Life is much better, down where it’s wetter…

I'm very sneaky...
I’m very sneaky…

I learned pretty quickly that diving can make a person hungry. When I certified in Australia the cook always had the galley counter filled with sweets and cheese when we came back from a dive.  The quick burst of energy from the sugar helps you readjust quickly to the topside world and is especially crucial if you’re diving again in a bit. That’s the route I went on the morning of our dive. A bowl of fruit loops, a couple croissants with jam and some random custard donuty thing. Carb load ahoy! I wanted to avoid my usual omelette though lest I get burpy or worse on the ride across the bay. Besides I’m never that inspired to eat a big breakfast early and this was by far my earliest morning of the trip.

By the time we arrived at the Marina it was still only 8:30ish and the crew was loading the boat for our trip out to into the Bahia de Banderas. Thankfully my friends Chris and Jodi had already been out the week before so I knew it was a good crew. In our case we had our local boat captain Carlos, and British ex-pats Sue (who I believe was the company’s head instructor), other Sue (a relatively new instructor I believe) and Marc. All were knowledgeable as well as chatty and personable. On a sidenote though I do wonder why I seem to always get Brit dive leaders. My pool instructor in Cairns being a Frenchman is the only exception.  Also on board were three people from Washington state an experienced diver and his brother in law who was certifying as well as a 16 year old family friend with a regrettable Mike Tyson henna face tattoo. I’m not sure if the young man was certifying or doing a discover scuba dive.

 

We dove with:

PV-Sea-Dive-Logo-03
Website | TripAdvisor Reviews

Boat leaves from the Marina Vallarta docks near the Airport. Variety of tours available and discounts for booking online in advance. Private tours available.

Cost: $105 USD for a two dive trip inc. equipment and tanks

My Rating: 5/5

There’s little question in my mind that diving with a smaller crew like this makes for a far superior experience. Horror stories of the big boats leaving someone behind aside you can still feel like part of a swarm. You have no guarantee of partners of similar skill, in fact you may end up in a group of people who take half of your air supply just to get to the bottom of the anchor chain. Add on the fact that you’ll usually have your equipment moved and assembled for you (and in this case even lifted out of the water for you) and I have no idea why you’d go out on one of the cattle boats.

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The Miss Marie heading towards Los Arcos

The boat itself was a comfortable 30 odd foot vessel with decent stability and reasonable speed. Despite all the gear on board there was plenty of room for the 10 of us and our personal stuff and the seats were well cushioned for the ride. Mostly importantly for us pale assed northerners there was a canopy to give us some respite from the sun. The trip out of the marina was the usual exercise in yacht gaping that one general indulges in a tropical port. First there were the yachts. Gorgeous forty foot boats, some older but all gleaming and gorgeous. Then came the super yachts with their fancy flying bridges and mounted sea-doo’s. Of course the truly impressive (and outright sickening) mega-yachts came into view soon after that. Ships so large that they contain garages for three jetskis and a launch as big as our dive boat. Ships so large they have smartly uniformed staff cleaning everything in sight and a Robinson on the helipad. In other words ships so large that they cost more than I (and my entire family, any children I might have, and their children as well) will ever make in a lifetime.

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In which I escape from a frigid hell…

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Words can’t really describe the unending horror of this winter. As I write this post the temperature is hovering just under the zero and there is a strong chance of flurries at some point over the coming weekend. It is April the sodding 11th, what exactly did we do to deserve this torment? It was inevitable that this winter would be feel harsh after the mild reprieve of 2013, but months of -30 temps and snow quite possibly lingering in spots until May seems like massive overkill on the part of the weather gods.* Is it any wonder then that I was looking forward to this Mexico trip with a slavering anticipation that approached apple fanboy at a new product launch levels?

Anticipation of warm weather, sun and girly drinks (and parlor games) aside, early morning flights are the devil. 4:15 AM wakeup, at the Airport at 5 for an 8 AM flight (also not really necessary imo.) I must say my first experience of the new airport was a mixed bag as well. Everything’s very pretty but also very stupidly laid out. Only restroom in the departure area is at the far opposite end of the hall from the security entrance and the Stella’s café that many people have breakfast at pre-security. This means everyone uses the private stall family restroom located here instead of what it’s actually for. There’s plenty of space for another restroom here but the architects went for style over substance. Oddly enough I ran into my friend Kymberly leaving for another destination wedding at the same time in PV. I’m fairly sure she was even more of a zombie than I was at that point though. The flight itself was quite surprising. I hadn’t flown with Air Transat in probably fifteen years and I was really surprised to walk on to an A310. As far as I can remember it’s the only time I’ve flown on a widebody out of Winnipeg direct. A quick check of Wikipedia tells me that they’re planning to phase out their A310s by the end of next year as well so I suppose I’m way behind the times. I definitely missed having the seat back tvs of all my other recent trips, things are obviously never going to be Air NZ or even Westjet quality on a charter airline though.

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The Life Aquatic

Andrea my scuba buddy checking out his gear on the back of the boat

I’ve been in love with the idea of scuba diving since I first really understood the concept. I’ve always loved the water and even as a small child thought about becoming a marine biologist and living on the coast somewhere.  The thought of being able to stay underwater for hours (tanks last for hours right?) floating weightlessly and chasing fish was something to strive for. I didn’t let the fact that it wasn’t recommended for asthmatics get in the way of those dreams

Somehow that dream got lost along the way. Perhaps it was the fact that I didn’t end up the coast, or perhaps the fact that I ended up in computer science that kept me from diving. More likely it was the fact that diving training in West Hawk or Lake Winnipeg has very little appeal (and still doesn’t really.) I was never going on a warm weather holiday with anyone who wanted to dive so why bother taking the training? Suddenly I was thirty and something I’d been planning to do as soon as I was able to had sat on the life list forever (damn you Mme. Plamondon.)

It wasn’t until Australia came around that I had zero excuses. Suddenly my dreams came back and learning to dive on the Great Barrier Reef as my friends Chris and Jodi had was of paramount importance. I booked a class that started in the classroom and ended with a three day liveaboard course out on the reef. Yet as it came closer I have to admit I started to get nervous. I knew I’d have to pass a medical and all those warnings about asthmatics kept rising in my mind. I can swim reasonably well but I’m no endurance type, would I pass the swimming tests? Even if I passed, what if I freaked out and couldn’t handle it. I had one friend who had bailed on his training the first time he tried to go under the water with a regulator. He wasn’t one to wimp out from a challenge but something about the experience just wasn’t for him and he knew it instantly. Lastly of course despite the fact that I love sharks this was Australia after all.  All these worries (minus the shark/jellyfish thoughts really) were weighing on me as I arrived in Cairns. This was supposed to be highlight of my trip, the culmination of years of dreaming. What was I going to do if I couldn’t get in the water, sit around Cairns for a few days being taunted by all the dive shop signs? I couldn’t help but check out the prices for a quick trip to Alice Springs on the way back to Sydney in case I “suddenly found myself with the time.”

The dive school was fantastic. I’d sprung for probably the best in Cairns and it showed. The instructors were funny but serious when needed and the class was structured well mixing pool and class time to best focus attention. I aced the classroom stuff, passed my medical (required by law in Queensland) and was starting to feel a bit more confident until my first time I the pool with a regulator. Most people who have dived will know what I mean but the feeling of having to train yourself to breathe in and out regularly, mouth only, through this contraption was incredibly weird. I felt weird, and for the night afterwards I considered taking the out and getting the rest of my money back. I think the mask exercises were what really threw me. I was having serious issues doing the exercises to clear my mask of water while still breathing regularly. I was worried that if I was having that much trouble in the pool I’d get myself hurt out on the reef. After a (couple) beer(s) that night I managed to talk myself into going back.

That next day I got over the hump. I can’t remember the exact moment it happened but by the end of the day the instructor was telling people in my half of the group to watch how I was controlling my breathing (and depth level as a result) and my dive buddy and I were having fun practicing the “oh my god I’m out of air” manoeuvres without any worries at all. That night a few of us went to a lecture on some of the creatures we might see out on the reef and I absolutely couldn’t wait. In the end I loved every minute of every dive (see my travelogue for more details) and didn’t feel a bit of panic out there. I would have enjoyed actually having my wetsuit though dammit Pierre. The deep dive got a little cold in just a stinger suit.

Despite my promises to myself to the contrary I haven’t been diving since. Again, despite having plans to maybe finish off my next level of certification the lure of diving the icy waters of West Hawk Lake just isn’t there. My lack of funds while freelancing combined with my lack of vacation time while starting my current job more or less kept me without any options for other dives as well. Thankfully that will be changing this coming week as I head down to Bucerias Mexico for a wedding. We’ve got a couple dives booked, I got a shitty generic dive enclosure for my camera for some new photos (hopefully) and for a few hours at least I’ll get to be that wide eyed kid once more.

 

European Adventure: Sixteen countries later…

I’ve been home for two weeks now and it’s really only just begun to sink in just how great of an adventure this all was. Sixteen European countries visited at least briefly, a ton of kilometres by air and train and litre upon litre of alcohol sampled. Am I happy to be home? Absolutely. I don’t regret trying to pack as much in as possible, but it does wear you out after a while. It’s really nice to be able to sit back and process the amazing things I’ve seen over the past few months. In fact given that I was so busy during the brief month or so I was home in June it still feels like I’m recovering from both trips. If nothing else it’s absolutely glorious to not have worn hiking boots for two weeks.

The trip to the airport was as painless as I had hoped, a quick subway ride back to Termini station then onto the Da Vinci express out to the airport. It’s about a half hour trip as the airport is near the coast and the train was absolutely crammed. Once I arrived I managed to find the Air Canada desk relatively easily. Eager to make absolutely no effort towards improving their customer service in my eyes they had all of one person checking in a 767 worth of economy passengers, though thankfully once it was clear most of the first class/pre checked people were gone the other staff did help. I always precheck at home, but without access to a printer or a smartphone I was forced to wait in the long line.

For such a major airport Da Vinci is pretty terrible, our entire wing of the airport had no jetways. I understand loading 737s or CRJ’s etc by stairway if your airport is busy, but not full sized airliners. On the upside you got to see all the morons who bring carryon bags too big for the overhead bins actually get yelled at for once. The flight itself was pretty uneventful except for being next to an ancient Frenchman who didn’t understand the concept of keeping his elbows on his side of the armrest. Unsurprisingly given the loading process we did get off late. My connection in Montreal was fairly wide, but there were at least 10 people who missed regional connections as a result.

As mentioned I had several hours until I continued on to Winnipeg so I have no idea why I was rushing but  I decided to jog up some stairs forgetting that I’d been sitting in an airline seat for the better part of nine hours. Two steps from the top I stumbled and cranked my kneecap against the concrete edge of the steps above. Later in the week I’d find out I’d injured my bursa, the sack that keeps bone and tissue from rubbing and causing pain. Figures… As it was I could barely walk and I waited through the long line for customs fighting back curses and feeling like the joint had exploded. Eventually I made it through, threw my bag into the connections belt and was sitting in Tim Hortons with an apple fritter and a sandwich all of 60 mins after arriving on Canadian soil. Given that I don’t drink coffee it seems odd that this is the first place I’ve gone after arriving home both times, but they’re usually the only place in an airport that charges remotely fair food prices.

It felt very odd to be home at first but it was wonderful to see my parents, then the dogs and subsequently my shower and a warm bed (with two freshly bathed dogs as hot water bottles no less.) I decided to hold off on this last post for a while to marshal my thoughts (and because my schedule somehow ended up completely jammed for the first little bit.)

People have been constantly asking me what my favourite place was so here’s a quick snapshot of favourites by type:

City: Prague    Runners up: Edinburgh/Rome

Region: Cornwall RU: Dalmatian Coast/Cinque Terre

unexpectedly awesome: Dalmatian Coast, Croatia RU: Munich

Food: Florence RU: Vienna

Booze: sub-euro beers in Budapest/Prague RU: West Country Cider in England and Munich Beer Halls

Activity: Canyoning in Interlaken Switzerland RU: Hiking in Cinque Terre/Cycling through Amsterdam

Museum: British Museum RU: Accademia, Florence and Van Gogh Amsterdam

 

I’ve already had a few people ask me for tips for the cities I’ve visited and I’m more than happy to do so.

For those few interested this blog will go back to being random rants and stories, but I’ll likely take a bit of a break from writing for now. Back soon, and probably back on twitter at least sooner.

 

 

 

 

European Adventure: Roman Holiday

I think I can say that I hit the ground running in Rome, but it wasn’t without some awkward moments to begin with. Arriving into the train station and finding the metro area was painless, and thankfully I’d been warned about the unpleasantness to come.

When you reach the subway ticket machines in Rome you’re instantly struck by A: a long line and B: lots of shouting. Each machine has someone standing next to it, usually of a gypsy looking persuasion, who tries to choose the options on the machine for you. You basically have to instantly and forcefully wave them off or they’ll do the work for you (despite the machines having an English button) and demand payment for their efforts. I quickly bypassed the gauntlet as I’d been told the machines downstairs are usually free of them, but I guess because it was a Friday afternoon every machine was “staffed.” I pushed in,  quickly got my ticket and headed for the train keeping a careful hand near my wallet since Roma Termini has a terrible rep for pickpockets and few things make you stick out as a tourist like a giant backpack (though at least you look poorer and a poorer target than the Americans distracted and pulling 8 wheelie bags.) Thankfully I quickly arrived at my amazing little hotel. Double bed with ensuite bathroom and A/C for 58 euro a night and only about five minutes from the Vatican museum. Unfortunately it’s also a small place so I had to wait 20 minutes or so for someone to be back to open the door. Once in though I happily threw everything into the closet, grabbed my rome specific guidebook I’d grabbed from the bookshare in Florence and headed out for the ancient city.

A metro ride later I popped out above ground and boom, there was the Flavian Ampitheatre. Following the advice in the guidebook I grabbed a pass for the sites from the Tabbacheria in the metro station and crossed the road, getting to skip the sizable line as a result. The amphitheatre (or Colloseum as it’s broadly known after the giant statue that used to stand near the spot) was probably the thing I most wanted to see in Rome, but I didn’t mind doing it first. The place just feels ancient and gets into your blood. It’s hard to look anywhere into or out of the Colloseum without seeing something amazing. The structure itself stretches far overhead even in its current battered form and it’s easy for the mind’s eye to reconstruct it to the full shape. As you climb upwards there are displays of the statues that used to line it and demonstrations of how the hoists ran to pop up animals, combatants or pieces of scenery for shows. Apparently the originally floor substructure was wood and could be disassembled to flood the place and have naval battle shows. The higher vantage points let you see most of the later permanent stone substructure and also have terrific views out at the arch of Constantine and the Roman Forum/Palatine hill area. Apparently the long term plans are to open up the tunnels to the public. It would be neat to see it up close. Basically everything that you see in Gladiator with the pop open tiger cages and the like is possible, though probably on the tamer end of what they could do.

I probably spent more time than most people in the Colloseum, but I was really enjoying it despite the annoying tour groups being pushy. Since it was still relatively early I headed over to the Roman forum next, exploring the grounds thoroughly and again trying to imagine what it looked like in the past. The sheer volume of ruins from various roman eras somewhat threatens to overwhelm you as you explore. The massive arches of the basilica are particularly impressive when you consider that it would cover a sizable chunk of the forum if in one piece today. More than anything there was just a feeling of history. Pretty much anything in sight was at least 1800 years old and filled with stories. The tiny area where Julius Caesar’s corpse was burned, the roman senate buildings, Caligula’s palace above, all these places from the stories I’ve read since childhood. Of course it’s more of a visual thing than anything, see the photo album on facebook for more.

After exploring a bit of Palatine hill (until they got ready to kick us out) I headed up the street and passed the Vittoria Emanuel II or wedding cake monument that many Romans (rightly) feel looks kind of stupid and out of place near the ancient roman ruins. On the other side was Trajan’s column then on a few streets over to probably my second most anticipated sight: The Pantheon. Originally a pagan temple to all the gods of Rome, it has been coopted like so many other things by the Catholic church. I’m really not sure how you make a giant pagan temple into a cathedral simply by slapping a few crosses on it, but I supposed I should be thankfully they didn’t tear it down. Built by Hadrian it was the largest dome in the world for over 1000 years until Il Duomo in Florence I believe. It was massively influential on the St. Peter’s dome (and other domes in the Vatican) and is a marvel of architectural skill. Basically half of a giant sphere perfectly nested its base, it has an opening called the oculus at the top that lets in the only light (and rain when it comes.) It also once had bronze statues including what was supposedly an amazing imperial eagle on the pediment, but one of the popes melted it down for doors and cannons and various fittings for St. Peter’s. Way to go yet again papacy.

Since I’d read about a tasty sounding pasta place near the Pantheon I hunted it down and had a delicious meal before heading onward to the Fountain of Trevi. I’d heard it was busy at night, I suppose it makes sense that Friday night is the busiest. Approaching the square I heard the noise of the crowd but was still blown away by the number of people enjoying the fountain and the people watching. The fountain itself is quite impressive as well, the contrast of the figures with the unfinished stone really makes it pop. It really was incredibly packed though so I found a place to toss in a coin (legend has it this will bring you back to Rome) and headed onward to the Spanish steps. I’ve got to say, I really don’t see what the fuss is about the steps, they’re nice and all but basically just a mass of people sitting on a stairway… It’s also one of the new hotspots for gypsy pickpockets. Since I was exhausted and it was just before 9 with the A-line of the metro shutting down I hopped aboard and back to my hotel.

The next day was Vatican day since everything there would be shut down Sunday. I walked south from my hotel and got in the line that snaked round the Vatican wall but thankfully didn’t look too crazy. It wasn’t and within about 30 minutes I was inside the museum and my last new country for the trip. The museum was on and off great, certain parts were fantastic but far too packed with people all pushing towards the Sistine chapel, other parts seemed to be roped off just because the Saturday crowds were too large to risk people crowding through them. The entire Egyptian area was closed off to my disgust. Highlights were definitely the Etruscan section, by far the best collection of their artifacts I’ve ever seen and really neat in showing the base for a lot of Roman art (most of what wasn’t influenced by the Greeks was Etruscan instead essentially.) Because it took a slight detour off the main route it was also mercifully less crowded. Unfortunately the massive crowds combined with the markedly worse air conditioning that characterizes Italian museums meant that everyone was basically a giant puddle by the time we got to the Sistine chapel. The last approach to the chapel is an unending hallway of glitz and glamour and lets you know where the collection plate money has been going for the last two millennia. I’m glossing over a lot of this but this post is already turning into a “first I saw this, then that” type thing and that’s kind of boring. Suffice it to say I saw some lovely paintings and sculpture. The Sistine Chapel itself really is incredible and if I had one suggestion for friends visiting Rome it’s to prepare for it before you go into the room. Read up on the orientation and structure of the ceiling to get the most out of it because even on a slow day I’m sure it’s full of people all staring upward and elbowing you in the spleen. The relentless calls of no photo, no video (why? If you don’t use a flash?) and SHHHH, silencio get incredibly annoying as well. Personally I think a large hum of conversation about the ceiling is far preferable to someone shouting every 20 seconds for contemplation but they didn’t ask me.

Unfortunately the shortcut from the Chapel to St. Peter’s was closed that day, but I decided to go see what the line for the Basilica looked like regardless. Again it wasn’t too bad (I think everyone had just gotten into the museum ahead of me since I did sleep in a bit) and I went to have a look. Every single guidebook mentions the dress code for the Vatican (covered shoulders and knees, pants for gentleman and at the very least a long skirt for women) yet there were still people being turned away at the checkpoint. I mean seriously, you couldn’t have at least done a web search on where you were going? Imagine turning back at that point on summer days when you waited in line for 2.5 hours in the blazing hot 38 degree weather. The church itself is incredibly vast and ridiculous inside and truly seems to be a monument to the avarice of the papacy over the centuries. Little wonder that the funding of the place by papal indulgence was one of the causative factors of the Reformation. It must have represented everything that the reformers thought was wrong with the Roman church. It’s truly ridiculous inside, gorgeous but so over the top as a place of worship that it makes the palaces of even the most deluded emperors and kings look drab by comparison. Walking back to my hotel for a shower I stopped randomly at a delicious looking gelataria and later found it listed in both guidebooks as a top pick for quality and massive portions.

My last day in Rome was a little harder to plan. It was unfortunately Sunday which meant a large number of the religious sites as well as many restaurants and stores would be closed. I decided to do a bit of a walking/museum tour and started at the Piazza de Popolo before heading southwards. I ended up passing the Spanish steps and fountain of trevi again as well as the fashionable shopping area between before heading over closer to the train station. Thankfully the National Museum of Rome wasn’t and I was able to check out a wonderful collection, mostly of sculptures that had once been scattered around smaller museums but were now consolidated here.

After the museum I visited a few smaller piazza, hit the Pantheon to see the light shining in it properly instead of the dusk of my first visit then headed south to see the sacred area with some of the oldest ruins in Rome. The south end of the area is now a cat sanctuary of all things so as you watch the ruins there will be at least 5 cats in view most of the time. After I’d been past it the previous night I realized that behind the Vittorio Emmanuel II monument was the Michelangelo designed plaza of the Capitoline so I backtracked to see the reproduction of the Marcus Aurelius cavalry statue now housed in the museum. Sadly by this point I was fairly museum saturated and I knew I wouldn’t get much out of it in the hour or so remaining til closing so I skipped this one and just enjoyed the view over the forum.

Rome has a reputation as a city of petty crime. I’ve loved the city since setting foot in it but I have to say it’s entirely deserved. The terrible crap at the metro machines, pickpockets everywhere and scam artists galore mean that anytime you’re anywhere remotely touristy you’ll feel like the other 25% of the people in sight are trying to rob you blind. Even the restaurant annoyances that plague Italy come to a new level in Rome. While most places in the country will refuse to serve you tap water and insist you buy a bottle at 2 or 3 euro, many places in Rome sell you tap water at 2 or 3 euro a bottle. In addition you’d best be prepared to pay a large cover charge, even if not sitting on the patio. One Dutch couple I talked to the other night mentioned a restaurant they’d been to where any tourists that sat down were immediately brought multiple 8 dollar plates of antipasti and everyone pretended not to understand English when they tried to say they didn’t want them, of course the moment they tried to leave without paying for them English was spoken by all. Tales abound as well of scam cabs that will take you to different hotels than you asked for, miles from the metro or other cabs. Locals that “help” you then ask you to buy them a drink in a bar in return and when you get the check it’s for 100euro or more. And gypsies that will trip and drop a baby into your arms and as you grab it your pockets are rifled. Though I dismissed a lot of these at first as rumours a check of reputable travel sites on the net backs many of them up. Common sense saves you from most of these scams of course, but there is definitely a large section of the Roman population that sees visitors as prey rather than guests. Sitting in the Piazza Navona later on I saw more than a few of these lovely people, mostly pickpockets. While sitting by the fountain there I managed to scare off one guy eying a Canadian woman with MS’s purse by talking to her while staring directly at him. Given that I was probably a foot taller than him he decided not to take the chance that I was with her and went looking for other targets. Luckily she was meeting friends a bit later so I just told her to keep her bag turned inward and tight to her for the time being.

By this point I’d walked across most of the ancient city and back and was getting close to calling it a day. Most things were closing down early for Sunday so I walked back via the Vatican by crossing the bridge to the Castel Sant’angelo a building that started life as Hadrian’s tomb before being converted into a last bastion of defense for the papacy in times of invasion. It’s a squat, imposing little castle approached by a pedestrian bridge lined with Angels sculpted by Bernini. It was closing for the day as I approached so I simply snapped a few photos. From there I took the long path up towards St. Peter’s in the distance and realized that unfortunately this route would take me past the “Old Bridge” gelateria again so I was forced to get another double scoop. It was a lot busier this time but still worth the wait, I’m fairly sure that much gelato other places I’d been in Europe would be in the five euro range.

As I write this I’ve been out for my last meal, I’ve said my goodbyes to Rome and Europe and I’m packing my bag for the last time. I won’t miss living out of a backpack and kind of hope not to be doing it for a while. As much fun as I’ve had I’m definitely hitting the “time to go home” point as I think it’s time to process all that I’ve seen and file it all permanently away in the memory before it becomes a blur. I will miss discovering new places and things, but I’ve certainly had a proper introduction to the rest of Europe now and I definitely have a list of places to visit again and near misses that I would like to correct. It’s going to be weird being surrounded by people speaking English again, of being able to turn the tv on and hear english on every channel (indeed of being able to see a tv more than once a week or so.) I miss my dogs (oh, and family,) friends,  good thai food and affordable rum and cokes. I miss being able to stretch out on a queen sized bed every night and not having to worry about hot water or squeezing under a shower tap designed for a midget. In short, it’s been a great time and it will be great to be home. See you all soon.

European Adventure: Toscana

The next morning I set off for the train station, hoping desperately that the strike was done as promised. Since Corniglia is at the top of a coastal hill (as you could see in the photos on facebook) this meant either a trip on the shuttle bus or a long walk down steps. Unfortunately I managed to be ready to leave the hostel in the one window where the shuttlebus didn’t run for 2 hours (it made little sense, it came up after almost every arriving train, but somehow didn’t go down on any sort of regular basis.) So the stairs it was! My guidebook says there are 382 of them which I believe as they go down the hill in a tight zigzag from near the peak down to essentially sea level where the tracks are. This was interesting with all 50 odd pounds of backpack on my back (my carryon stuffed inside as well to make things easier.) Once I arrived at the station I found that the Strike had ended, but that one of the midmorning trains was out of operation due to maintenance so I’d be waiting for 90 mins for the next one. Predictably when it arrived it was packed as well since the 5T tourists who don’t hike use it to explore the towns. While crammed into the vestibule with a few other backpackers I eventually made it out to La Spezia and onto a quick change for a train to Pisa.

Pisa is an odd town, though it was supplanted long ago for supremacy in Tuscany by Florence and other cities it still draws many tourists, mostly because of the tower. I’d been told by my guidebook, some friends and multiple people on my journey that it wasn’t really worth a full day as it was easily done as a stopover on many routes. I quickly discovered they were right as any route out of Cinque Terre (and all but one of the routes to 5T from Venice) took me straight through it. A three hour stopover was enough time for a quick walking tour of the town, a look at the tower and duomo and a bite for lunch. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really expecting much. The leaning tower really seems like one of those tourist things that you show up to and think “is that it?” I was wrong, it really is worth seeing. You’re mind is kind of boggled that the thing is standing and it really is pretty with the church in behind as well. Of course to see it I had to look past 30 or 40 odd groups of people setting up the “LOOK, I’m holding up the tower” photo. I won’t deny I probably would have done some sort of goofy pic had I had a companion with me but it does somewhat take away from the scene to have a bunch of people squatting around awkwardly posing as if they’re forcing out a particular difficult bowel movement with their hands in the air. Other than the tower though I was not particularly impressed by Pisa, particularly with the aggressiveness of the street vendors and the lack of any really authentic seeming restaurants anywhere in the downtown area.

Hopping back on the train it wasn’t long before I was in Florence, which in Italian is the much more interesting to say Firenze. Home of the Medici, birthplace of the renaissance and giant art storehouse, it was immediately much more to my taste. Just walking to my hostel I passed several cathedrals (including the epic Duomo,) multiple museums and enough beautiful architecture to keep me staring upward for a week. My hostel turned out to be perched on the 3rd floor of a gorgeous old building directly between Il Duomo and the Accademia where Michelangelo’s David is displayed and all of a 2 minute walk from either. Unfortunately I had reached the laundry crisis point again and if I didn’t find somewhere to do my clothes I’d be wearing fairly heavy polo shirt in hot humid temps the next day. As seems to be usual this turned into more of an adventure than it should have been. The laundry was nearby, near empty and very clean but it wasn’t until my load finished that I realized the machine hadn’t used water. Trying again in a different machine brought the same result and I was left 7 euro poorer with a machine full of stank clothes that had just been spun around a lot. Luckily as the second load was finishing a woman came in and tried a machine, got the same result and had a cellphone to call the manager. After a bit of a rigmarole things were put right but it had still taken enough time that I had to ditch trying to see David from my plans for that day. Instead I did an architecture and market tour, grabbed dinner at a restaurant recommended by the hostel guy (Spinach and Ricotta Ravioli in a black truffle cream sauce that was simply incredible for all of $10 cdn) and had a gelato while watching the carousel in one of the piazzas.

The next morning I got up reasonably early, sobbed at another lukewarm no pressure shower and got in line for the Accademia. By getting there soon after it opened I managed to beat most of the cruise ship groups. It’s actually quite a small museum but it really makes up for it in quality. Every piece of marble in there seems to be a masterpiece and Michelangelo’s David itself is breathtaking. Photos really do not do it justice. The size, the detail and the capture of the pose are just amazing. It has been installed in a gallery with several unfinished Michelangelo works to really reinforce that it was carved out of a solid chunk of marble. Of course, on the way out I saw some Americans buying a pair of boxer shorts modelled after David’s nether regions.  Classy!

The Uffizi gallery was unfortunately a bit of a letdown of an experience. I was well aware that I’d be waiting a while since I wasn’t going to pay the extra for a reservation but I wasn’t expecting them to only let the line move once every thirty minutes or so. The non-reserved line waits for the reserved line to be mostly empty, for any cruise ship or tour bus groups, passing clouds and the return of Halley’s Comet before moving.  Honestly it feels like they’re trying to drive you into paying the reservation fee for the next day or buying onto one of the guided tours with a third party company at 3x the price. I’m not cheap, but when you’re planning to see somewhere around 8 museums in the next 4 days at minimum $15 cdn a pop you kind of want to save where you can. I waited about 2:15, apparently it can be more like 4 hours at the height of summer… I’d probably give in in that case. Once you get to the ticket desk they bark at you for exact change (which I didn’t have) but the guy refused to let me just pay with a 20 until I scoured my pockets and found a 1euro coin so he could give me a tenner in change. Way to save time there bub. The rudeness continues upstairs where you are shushed in the most patronizing manner possible if speak, even by non-museum tour guides (who shout at the top of their lungs unless they’re with a group with the whisper things.) Being by myself I wasn’t talking but if I’d been shushed by a non-museum employee I certainly would have told her where to stick it. Museum wise I wasn’t too impressed by the layout either, perhaps Stephanie will correct me but it seemed really archaic and badly lit. (Yes I realize it’s been a gallery longer than Canada’s been a country, but you can change things to some extent.) Many canvasses suffered from massive glare problems no matter where you stood and often made worse by badly installed glass protection, several rooms had very popular pieces converging in one corner to form a massive crush of people. On top of this, the exterior corridor had beautiful statues and busts, but the traffic flow design seemed to try and force you to miss large chunks of them. If you aren’t careful the exit also funnels you out before you see the last few rooms and the signage makes no note of this. That said, they have some beautiful pieces. I finally got to see several Bronzino pieces in person, admired Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus and between the statues outside and the works inside managed to see art by all four Ninja Turtles.

Once back outside I explored more of Firenze that I’d missed the night before including the Ponte Vecchio or Old Bridge which is covered by jewellery shops and is the only bridge not destroyed by the Nazis in their retreat. Interesting but uber touristy and it quickly sent me back to the middle of the old town to admire the Duomo exterior again. I know it’s not original to the church (it was added in the 1800s) but it really is gorgeous. Sadly I didn’t have time to go into the interior as it wasn’t too long before closing and the line was still miles, but Florence is already on my cities to return to list so it can wait for next time. By the time I got back to the hostel was kind of wiped so the rest of the evening was fairly laid back as I planned out my time in Rome. I’m writing this sitting on the high speed train between the two cities and enjoying some free chocolate cookies (<3 first class) and fanta.

European Adventure: A hot shower at a fair price…

Venice was a delightful city made a lot less wonderful by the terrible digs. The hostel had six showers per floor and each floor was made up of five or six 16 bed dorms. I had the extra fun of being in the top bunk by the door so I heard every single movement of the door as people arrived back at random points during the night. The lack of showers was made worse by the fact that one or more of the shower curtains seemed to disappear randomly. They were also located in coed bathrooms which didn’t thrill many people and didn’t have hot water once while I was there. As someone who doesn’t function particularly well without a morning shower it was a fairly major problem.

The city thankfully made up for it as I headed out the next morning. I started out by taking advantage of the fact that I’d given up on sleeping and gotten up and out of the hostel by 8 and thus had a lack of cruise ship groups and walked around most of the city again. People were up and around, but as it was Sunday morning as well things were fairly laid back. Once it got a bit later I headed back to St. Mark’s and took the museum tour which included access to the balcony overlooking the square. It was quite fascinating to look through the various displays about the various building periods of the basilica and the art that has been added and subtracted over time. The tour includes a few glimpses into the interior of the church and the famous mosaics so thankfully I didn’t really feel the need to come back after mass to see it again.

I spent most of the rest of the day exploring the outer islands in the lagoon, particularly Murano the famous home of the glass blowing industry. There was a fantastic variety of different workshops and a few of them even had live demonstrations. I’ve always been interested in glassblowing and seeing how quickly the experts can tool out 3 or 4 beautiful pieces of work in a row with deft moves. The island itself is very Venice looking but feels very much quieter despite the number of tourists still walking around. I stayed longer than I’d planned in fact after finding a beautiful little trattoria with a treed courtyard and fantastic pasta.

The following day was another early start that turned out to be for naught when the train I wanted to take was full. It ended up taking an extra 90 minutes with a third  change to get to my next destination. That said, the Cinque Terre region on the Ligurian coast was totally worth it. I ended up staying in the tamest of the towns which honestly wasn’t a bad thing given how I was feeling after Venice. Almost the moment I got in the door I was enjoying a long and gloriously hot shower, finally feeling clean after 3 days. I went out for some food after and talked to my roommates a bit but was pretty much out of it early. The hostel was beyond bizarre though as in addition to a 1-3pm lockout for “cleaning” they also required you to be out of the bedroom by 10 so it could be cleaned. Since it was a place with 2 8-bed dorms and 3 double rooms for couples  you had to wonder what exactly it was they were spending so much time on. We were really unimpressed when a cleaning woman came into our room while we were sleeping and stripped the beds of the people who had left early while shouting in Italian to the woman at the front desk. This wasn’t the only instance of staff rudeness either, but the place was clean, cool and quiet so it made me happy overall.

The next morning was time to do the famous hiking. The region is primarily  made up of 5 towns along a beautiful stretch of coast each nestled amongst vineyards and olive/lime groves. The paths between the towns that were originally used for harvest time are now incredibly popular hiking trails. I hear they’re beyond busy in high summer but things were calm enough now you were able to walk them only letting people pass every five minutes or so. Unfortunately one of the paths was shut off completely due to a landslide, but I still got to walk the prettiest parts when the time came. It turned out to be a gorgeous day for it as well but hot enough that reaching the end and being able to hop into the sea was the best reward of all (not that it kept me from grabbing some gelato afterwards.) Unfortunately as I was trying to get on the train to head to the other end of the 5 towns and do  one of the shorter parts of the hike not affected by the landslide I found out that it was a major strike day for Italian transport workers. This has been going on all summer and resulted in 80% of the trains being cancelled so when I looked at things I realized I risked being stranded for the night if I did any more hiking so I went back to Corniglia, grabbed a pizza and walked up to watch the sunset. Truth be told I was pretty wrecked between the hiking and swimming so it wasn’t a bad thing.

European Adventure: HOW MUCH IS A BIG MAC???

The departure from Munich was a bit more exciting than I had planned. Doing my research the night before I’d found a handy train out of Munich to Interlaken with only one switchover. Unfortunately it wasn’t until I’d gotten my reservation at the station that I realized how tight the switch was, only 7 minutes. This was the German train system so I was reasonably optimistic at least. The first part of the journey had about 8 stops and I very carefully watched the clock as we hit each one exactly on time and left exactly on time. I started to relax (big mistake) and then about fifteen minutes later realized with slowly dawning horror that we were coming to a stop in the middle of nowhere. We sat here for about 10 minutes then went through the next tunnel at a pace that would have let an arthritic octogenarian pass us. Once we were out of the tunnel we spend back up to 150kph again but the damage was done.

Arriving at the crossover station there were about 10 of us dashing to the other platform on the off chance it hadn’t left. I got there first sighed at the lack of a train (who knows when the next one would be since this wasn’t a really major station) only to glance up at the status display and notice that it said 15 minutes late in German. I turned around to see each subsequent person run up, deflate then slowly realize and smile. Score one for luck.

Arriving in Interlaken was one of the prettier train rides I’ve ever taken as the last hour in particular of the journey is spectacular. Once you split off the main line it’s a narrow track mostly hugging the edge of the beautiful blue green lake with the swiss alps towering above. It’s instantly obvious why this is a favourite playground of the wealthy and the number of expensive yachts on the water at every turn was a good indicator. Pretty much everyone who’s been to both places has made comparisons to Banff in describing the place to me and it’s pretty apt. For one thing it’s a bluehair-bus mecca and there are also hordes of asian tourists. The tourbus kind were present, but the hostel was absolutely full of south Koreans as well. My one aussie roommate and I left in the morning just assuming our replacement roomies would be Korean and sure enough all four were.

Unfortunately roughly half of them were very much of the spoiled rich kid on a pre-college break paid for my mom and dad. If you’ve never run into that type in a hostel they’re a nightmare. The worst examples of them never do dishes, take over the room and behave as antisocially as a certain couple on my New Zealand trip when you have to share a room with them. As some of you probably guessed from my facebook updates, the particular offenders were a kid whodidn’t turn off his cell phone ringer and just let it chirp with incoming messages all night long (or rather he did until I turned it off for him around 3am)  as well as two of them who would consistently leave the door open whenever they left the room. Not a huge problem while we’re there as well, but you had to wonder if they’d be closing it if we weren’t there too. Enough griping though, overall it was a fantastic hostel. Basic breakfast provided, free coffee for those that drink it and ski and snowboard racks in the basement for the winter season (oh how I’d love to go back.) When I had to leave early my final morning the owner even pulled me a pre buttered breakfast pretzel thing from the freezer and told me it would be perfect thawed come morning (she was right, I ate it on the train.)

I spent the rest of the first day looking around town, buying some groceries for dinner (yikes, even that cost me what eating out would have in most of the countries I’ve been in lately even when I begrudgingly considered McDonalds to tide me over it was going to be $15 for a basic big mac combo) and in general just admiring the view in all directions. Most of the town is just perfectly charming old alpine buildings, and at pretty much every shop you can buy an authentic swiss army knife.  Interlaken is (as you might guess from the name) nestled in between two alpine lakes. In every direction there are beautiful mountains, green peaks closer to town but a few snow covered bigguns in the distance including the Eiger.

Interlaken also has an adventure sports scene and Chris and Jodi had really enjoyed the rafting so I signed up as well. Unfortunately school summer holidays (and uni I’m guessing) are over here so visitor numbers of younger people are down and my trip only had 3 people signed up with a minimum of 6 required. When I woke up the next morning I checked in and it was still only 3 so I resigned myself to finding something else to do. He gave me a bit of hope though telling me to check again in an hour. I actually happened to walk past the office for the place and found out that if rafting fell through I could do Canyoning instead which seemed fun but incredibly dangerous. Turns out that’s what I did and that’s certainly a good descriptor of it.

We’re talking mountain streams of course so it was going to be cold, we got our first hint as to just how cold when they kitted us out in a full weight combo of wetsuit overall AND a singlet suit over it. Water socks and neoprene booties, a climbing harness, life jacket and helmet. Most of the helmets had bizarre things written on them (mine was shaved), I ended up hanging out with Horny, Emo and Muffin. Once we were all trussed up they stuffed us into a van and trucked us up into the mountains. The views got even better up here as the narrow valley spread out below and we could see both lakes reflecting nearby peaks. Eventually we were dropped next to a narrow stream and were given a demonstration on how to walk through the rushing water (hint: Carefully) then how to flop properly onto our backs. Basically this involved throwing yourself out off a rock and landing flat on your back. This of course presents the maximum surface area as you hit the water and you slow down faster, helpful when jumping from 8 feet into foot and a half deep water but hardly the most sensible seeming thing the first few times you do it.

Once everyone had demonstrated the technique to one of our guides we set off down the stream. This is an activity that’s hard work, one moment you’re pulling yourself along with just your arms, the next you’re crabwalking across a narrow ledge with swirling white water below. Our first fun moment came with a short natural slide, basically a rushing halfpipe of water that we all just tucked in our limbs and slide down into a deep (COLD!) pool. There were quite a few of those, always fun. The jumps were the most intense part of course. They started us off small, one backflop like we’d practiced, then a cannonball into a wide pool and a few others, but it wasn’t long until they got ridiculous. Of particular note: A reverse Scuba entry (falling backwards head first) from about 8 feet up, a backflop from about 8 feet into knee deep water, the slide down to the guide whereupon he grabbed your leg and pivoted you out headfirst over a drop and the worst of them an 18 foot leap into a 3 foot wide crevasse where you had to hit the tiny patch of white water below or risk hurting yourself. This isn’t even mentioning a few short rappelling sections or the various cliff climbs. I’m sure they do their best to keep the danger to a minimum but there were times where it was very real and incredibly fun. Also exhausting, especially when we got to the bottom and they said “way to go, now we climb back up to the van.” Once we were back at the home base we got all our gear off and dried off and they did something that I really wish more rafting companies would do. They pulled out some beer and soft drinks, one of the owners was slicing up a ton of amazing bernese farm cheese and fresh bread and they let us just hang out and chat while we recharged a bit. I know we’re paying for the beer and cheese in the price, but it’s just nice to get a chance to sit and laugh about the trip with everyone else before we go our separate ways.

Once back at the hostel I took an incredibly long shower to warm up again. One of my new Korean roomies was using a skype app or something on his phone and was shouting at the top of his lungs as I’d walked in to grab my things and by the time I’d gotten into the shower he was shouting so loudly that I could hear him through the wall. Noise aside, it felt amazingly good to be warm and after I got out I was tempted to lay down for a bit shouting Koreans or no, but I really wanted to get a view from up the mountains with my camera. I didn’t have the time or money ($200+ cdn) to do the trip to the highest train station in Europe, but found out the mountain just outside of town had a funicular and what’s more had a 15 franc deal to head up and have a drink included for one specific departure that I could just make if I hustled. It’s obviously the best deal of the day as the thing was packed. The view and beer were definitely worth it though and I sat up there for quite a while enjoying the scenery and the mountain air (eventually a piece of swiss apple cake as well.) It was all really great until I realized that my steadily deteriorating camera will now no longer take a proper image if I use the zoom at all. Once the zoom is moved it needs to be turned off before it will function again. I now think it must have gotten a significant smack when I fell and hurt my thumb in Wales. Hopefully my parents appreciate that I saved the expensive camera while breaking my own. I won’t be surprised if it gives up the ghost completely before the trip is up but I can always switch my video camera over to single shot mode if need be.

On coming down from the mountain I detoured to the train station since I was most of the way there, found out my desired train was fully booked and ended up booking a 7am one instead (ick) that got there later than my preferred route. Since I was quite tired I decided to just hit the grocery store, buy some bread and cheese with the last of my swiss francs and take it easy, a plan that didn’t outlast the aussie roommate returning. He’d gone canyoning as well but he’d done a longer one and was heading out to dinner and mini golf with his group. It turned out to be a good decision to go with them as we had a hell of a time. On the way to the restaurant we finally figured out what the temporary stadium being set up in the park was for. Apparently it’s a once in six years or so traditional swiss wrestling championship, it looks truly bizarre but everyone seems quite excited. As we walked through the stadium a group of singers were practicing for a sound check and actually included some Yodeling which made us all feel incredibly touristy. The restaurant turned out to be great as well, we eventually got a table for 7 on the patio and ended up right next to a high school band providing entertainment. We spent about 3 hours there abandoning the mini golf plan when we waited 45 minutes to order for people that never showed, everyone else was great company and we all had a blast but sadly most of us were leaving early the next morning so we called it a night around 11, even then by the time I packed I was looking at five and a half hours of sleep.

Today has been another fantastically beautiful train ride through the alps, every little town we passed looked fascinating and I’d love to go back with a car or motorcycle and explore that area of the world properly. After a short stopover in Milan I’m heading to Venice along a much less scenic route. Of course just as I write this we come out of the tree tunnel next to a beautiful lakeshore lined with red tiled roofs. We’re getting back into hot temperatures and the A/C is barely keeping up.

—- later…

Crossing the big bridge to the actual island was quite neat, this was saturday and a number of enormous cruise ships were docked near the train station as we pulled in. For those who haven’t been, the moment you walk out of the train station you walk into a plaza with your first canal right in front of you. It pretty instantly screams YOU’RE IN VENICE! as you scramble to find the right boat to get to your hotel. Unless you can afford to cab it everywhere of course, but that’s a boat as well. I quickly found the hostel and regretted my thought of “that was the nicest place of the trip” this morning because that meant that of course this place wouldn’t be great. It’s not terrible, but the living area is going to keep me awake until late no matter what time I head to bed I’m guessing. I had a quick shower (nowhere to put any clothes to keep them dry hooray!) and head out into the city.

The famous piazza San Marco was first of course, because it’s the center of many of the monuments and also because it was the next stop on the water bus from my hostel. I managed to arrive while the Doge’s Palace was still open to visitors so I quickly joined the delightfully short queue and explored the palace. Lots of beautiful architecture and art, mostly remnants of Venice’s powerful days as a merchant nation and quite impressive. By the time I finished in there most of the other attractions had closed so I spent a few hours walking around, took a few photos from the Rialto bridge and grabbed a delicious spicy salami pizza at a trattoria back near the square.

I’ve since spent the evening locking down where I’ll be staying for the last week as Italy seems tons more busy than the rest of the continent as the summer winds down. It’s the first time I’ve planned more than 2 days ahead since England, but it seemed prudent.

 

 

 

European Adventure: München, Bier und Schloss Neuschwanstein.

Vienna is much better than I thought it would be. Several travellers had warned me that it was a little boring and maybe it is if you want to be out clubbing until 5am but I found it really pleasant. Thankfully the u-bahn (subway) was still running when my train arrived so I was able to get across the city to the hostel rather quickly. It was clearly not in the classiest neighbourhood judging by the occasional “woman of negotiable affection” on the path to the hostel. I must say that I’d have been turning around and likely finding a different place to stay had that been an American city because by the time I’d reached the hostel I’d walked down two very long deserted and dark streets with no sign I was going the right way. Once I arrived and checked in there was a very spacious room with a large window that kept things reasonably cool. Several of my roomies had also just arrived and the hostel had a small on site bar so we headed down and enjoyed some happy hour vodkas before calling it a night.

The next day was unfortunately Monday which is the day that many museums typically close. Thankfully I still had several good choices and since it was reasonably near to the hostel I decided to start by walking to Schonnbrunn Palace, the summer home of the Hapsburgs. The palace itself is quite large but it’s completely dwarfed by the grounds and have a very Versailles air about them. The line to get in was substantial but at least moved quickly though judging by the much shorter queue when I exited I chose the worst possible time to get there. The palace apartments were quite gorgeous with many of them having incredibly intricate panelling that boggled the mind. One (sadly mostly under restoration) had beautiful rosewood inlaid with middle-eastern etchings. Most of the rooms have been restored and displayed as they were last used either under the Franz-Joseph and his wife or the earlier Maria-Theresia.

After my tour I walked around the grounds a bit, inspecting the massive fountain that dominates the view from the palace before heading slowly through the tree lined avenues to the u-bahn station. Conveniently enough most of the museums in Wien are centered around one subway stop. As previously mentioned a few of them are closed, but I wanted to see some of the Klimt paintings and I figured an Austrian focus wouldn’t hurt so I visited the Leopold Museum. It seems somewhat out of place as a modern ugly concrete block in the midst of all these beautiful old buildings, but what was inside certainly made up for it. I spent several hours touring the place but came away having appreciated the Klimt but also really enjoying the works of Egon Schiele who I hadn’t really been familiar with previously.

As I kept walking around the beautiful museum and former palace buildings in the old city center I was mostly happy that it was a more pleasant temperature (right around 30) so it was at least possible to walk around all day without feeling like you needed a shower after merely stepping outside. I even managed to wander into a public wine and food festival in one of the squares and helped myself to some apple strudel and a pretzel. The wine looked to be of the sweet German variety so I passed on it. I probably walked around for another 2 hours before heading back to the hostel to do laundry. Typical hostel laundry with very little idea of how long it would take or how well it would be done but I desperately needed to get some of the ripest of the shirts clean before they achieved sentience and took over my bag completely.

Once laundry time was done I had a gloriously laid back evening as I headed back down to the old town and enjoyed an authentic (and enormous) Wienerschnitzel, several mugs of good beer and later some open air Mozart by an orchestra. Sadly I forgot my camera after changing shorts for the laundry, but it was a good closing to my time in the city.

I’m currently sitting on a train to Munich and watching some beautiful scenery roll by the windows. Austrian trains continue to be the best of the trip in my mind. I have a difficult decision to make as I’m running low on time to do everything I still want to do. The question is mostly if I’ll stay a full day in Munich in hopes of going to one of my favourite castles or simply stay the night then go on to Interlaken in Switzerland. Both would be beautiful, but doing both means either heavily curtailing or dropping one Italian destination. It will likely come down to what has the best train layout since I don’t really want to waste a full day on the train again this trip.

 

 

Once in Munich I made up my mind and decided to stay for a full day and go to Neuschwanstein Castle (sometimes known as Mad Ludwig’s Castle.) With that finally settled and my research done I set out in search of Munich Beer Halls. On the recommendation of a few friends I sought out Hoffbrauhaus Munich one of the oldest and biggest, sat down and ordered a Ma? of beer (1 Litre of deliciousness.) This went down disturbingly quickly and I was enjoying the traditional band and the surroundings so I ordered another, some munich sausages and pretzels with sweet spicy mustard. I have to say it was pretty much my stereotypical German experience. A bit later, and actually mildly tipsy (strong stuff and that was the first time I’d eaten that day so it was taking a while for the food to catch up and soak up the beer) I set out to explore the English Garden which is a giant park not too far from the city center.

I managed to arrive at the park right at the site of the surfing wave an outwash from the pump that feeds the park stream that creates an artificial wave surfed nearly constantly by people. A little ridiculous, but fun to watch for a few minutes before exploring the rest of the park. Of course, exploring is hard work and when I stumbled across another biergarten I felt compelled to have another litre of beer. I spent most of the rest of the night strolling random streets, but decided to call it a reasonably early night since beating the crowds out the castle would require an earlyish train. Unfortunately my hostel room faces the courtyard and so does the bar, so I didn’t really fully get to sleep until 2ish anyway.

It’s about a 2 hour train ride out to the castle site followed by a short bus trip then a variety of ways to climb up from the castle. Annoyingly I’d forgotten to charge my ebook reader and I finished my one paperback halfway into the outbound journey but the scenery was gorgeous anyway. Munich gave way to rolling countryside backlit by a brilliant azure sky that basically made the whole thing look like a windows xp desktop. Every picturesque little town we passed through had lots of flowers and cows and at least a few alpine looking homes and cottages.

Once at the castle I picked up a ticket on which they give you an assigned tour time. There are two castles there but since I was locked into public transport I just went for the more picturesque Neuscwanstein. Since my tour was an hour and a half or so away I decided to do the 45 minute walk up the mountain to the castle rather than paying for the horse drawn carriage or bus. Absolutely worth it, almost from the moment you leave the cluster of cafes and hotels at the bottom you have amazing views down into the farming valley below. Ludwig certainly knew how to choose his views, unfortunately his fiscal policies were another matter and before the castle interior was finished he was removed from power by a secret government vote. By declaring him insane they managed to get away with it, though having him commit “suicide” in a waist deep lake not long after (and conveniently getting rid of the psychologist who diagnosed him as well) he wasn’t able to fight back.

The rooms that are finished in the castle are gorgeous, pretty much each one is a tribute to one of Wagner’s operas as Ludwig was a friend and patron (and obsessed superfan) of the composer. The famous scenes of Tristan und Iseult decorate the living room, with an artificial grotto nearby. The king’s bedroom in particular is amazing where apparently 3 master woodcarvers spent 4 years alone. Yet as beautiful as the exterior is, it’s the overall look of the castle and the location that continue to inspire. It was the inspiration for Disney’s Sleeping Beauty’s castle and many others in movies and television. As much as I do love it, it still takes second place to the Chateau de Chenonceau in my personal prettiest castles list.  I spent the rest of my time there doing a few of the shorter little hikes from the castle summit and enjoying the sight of about 10 people base jumping from a nearby peak and over the castle.

Once back in Munich I took advantage of my unlimited u-bahn and s-bahn train pass and did a mini tour around some neighbourhoods I  hadn’t seen before heading off to a restaurant recommended in my guidebook and seconded by someone I met in Vienna with the same book. It specializes in Bavarian cuisine, especially dumplings and pork. I had farm cheese dumplings which turned out to be about 1/3 pork and 2/3 cheese and melt in your mouth delicious. Needless to say this was accompanied by beer. I’m a little zonked from all the hiking now though so here I sit updating the blog and enjoying a bit of music. Thus far I have the room to myself tonight so hopefully it isn’t packed and there isn’t an hour long wait for the shower tomorrow. Italy beckons tomorrow!

P.S. Super fun moment on the way back as I ran into a most amusing banner at a yay jesus rally… (Yes I know it means jesus loves you in german, but I giggled)

 

European Adventure: Spicy in the Balkans

Split was everything it was promised to be, a little slice of vintage feeling Mediterranean city. I got there fairly late and again had problems finding my hostel, this time because there was no street sign and the sign for the hostel was an etched piece of glass the size of a cue card invisible in the falling darkness. The broken A/C had eventually led to temps that had to be above +40 on the train, with the laptop eventually overheating to the point where I couldn’t use it anymore. I didn’t exactly smell pretty and it had been a long day by that point so I had a shower and a bit of a rest before taking a night time walk around and down to the water.

When morning came it was time for some more proper exploring. The town itself build up around Diocletian’s palace, built for the Roman Emperor’s retirement years right on the Dalmatian coast. In the years since a bustling little city has grown around it, the core of which is built into and around the palace itself. Many of the ancient roman walls now house shops and tiny flats have been built incorporating various ancient walls. Later merchant “palaces” have also been built within the roman palace making for an interesting mishmash of architecture. The whole area is a UNESCO world heritage site and certainly deserves it, but it can be hard to see the impressiveness of the structure as a whole with so much of it hawking souvenirs or ice cream.

Just outside the palace is the large bay on which most of the town encroaches. I actually got a very Whitsundays vibe about it as it’s the center of a thriving party cruise trade around the islands. It’s also a busy ferry port with larger ferries crossing to Italy or sailing to Greece and smaller ones serving the offshore Croatian islands. If I come back I’ll definitely head out on a boat, but given the amount of time I want to spend in Italy and how long it will take to get out of here even a 2 day trip wasn’t a great idea. After spending some time in the local museum (mostly about the palace) I gave in to the sweltering temperatures and spent the rest of the afternoon at Split’s “famous sandy beach” conveniently near my hostel. It takes a lot of nerve to call that sand since it was a tiny stretch perhaps  50 paces wide of what could more accurately be described as gravel and mud, most of the rest of the beach area was a concrete breakwater. It was perfectly pleasant but I hope those people get a chance to see a proper sandy beach at some point in their lives. On the other hand even mud was a happy thing because apparently the coast is notorious for sea urchins and almost anywhere else it behooves you to wear rubbed water shoes when you’re swimming off the rocks. The bay itself was beautiful though, shallow out quite a ways with a resulting wave pattern so jumbled that you could never surf but you could float and be randomly swished around like inside a washing machine. The water was wonderfully warm and seemed especially salty and buoyant. It felt amazingly refreshing and I probably spent over an hour in my first time with a few shorter sessions as the afternoon wore on. I can now check the Adriatic off my “bodies of water I have been in” list.

Later that night I decided to treat myself to a nice dinner, but the Croatian people seemed to be obsessed with pizza and pasta (not helped by the large number of Italian tourists who cross) so finding something different was a little tough. Oddly enough my incredibly bubbly hostel host recommended a little bistro that specialized in Mexican and Indian. My hopes weren’t high but I was dying for something different that my diet the past week or so and Enchiladas fit the bill. Unsurprisingly they weren’t super spicy, but the flavour was nice, as was the strawberry Margarita I added on before realizing it was the equivalent of $8 cdn. It really never pays to not order beer over here. After returning to the hostel with a few beer from the supermarket I ended up watching old episodes of 30 rock with a couple of Canadians who were sharing my room before settling in to a fairly early night since it was a marathon train day the next day.

I really don’t understand the Croatian railway system. I’ve taken 4 different trains within Croatian borders now, all are daily scheduled trains so you think they’d understand the traffic patterns surrounding them but they’ve lost a mean of 48 minutes on  my journeys on them. I’m really not sure how one falls 70 minutes behind on a 6 hour journey with few stops and no catastrophic breakdowns. I’ve been warned by Chris/Jodi and others that Italy is just as bad, but at least in Italy if you miss a connection chances are there’s another train in no more than an hour. This afternoon trying to get out of here I hopped on my connection with only 5 minutes to spare despite having an 80 minute window by the schedule. Had I missed it I would have been waiting 8 hours for an overnight sleeper and would have been paying for a hostel room in Vienna that I wouldn’t be using. That said, I really loved the journey this time. Probably because I wasn’t in a heat induced coma with most of the shades drawn I noticed a lot more of the scenery this time. Sweeping mountain valleys, sharp peaks and quaint villages all featured in an incredibly varied landscape as we climbed quickly from the coast up into the central valleys of the country. Little towns blurred by the train (or crawled during our slow sections) yet everywhere there were unfinished buildings. Most of these were built of red cinderblock and most had the exterior walls done and often a slate roof as well but windows and doors were gaping holes into ruined interiors. In most cases it was clear they’d never been lived in. I’d put them down to houses that were abandoned during the strife around independence time and certainly some of them had decayed to a point where that makes sense, but others had clearly been built and abandoned quite recently, some even had scaffolding collapsing around them with plastic sheeting torn to shreds. It was quite the mystery and none of the Croats in my train car this time spoke English so I couldn’t even ask.

Overall I’ve really loved Croatia, it’s simply a great place to visit. The country is beautiful from Zagreb through the mountainous inner regions and the beautiful coast. The people themselves are much more happy and welcoming than some of the other Eastern European countries I’ve been in. The younger generation appears to be eager to learn English so making yourself understood is never too hard. Most importantly, though it has of course commercialized to some extent seeing a recognizable brand name is rare (outside of soft drinks of course) and though I did see a sign for a McDonalds on a train station wall I never actually came across any western fast food despite a fair bit of exploring. Better still, it’s cheap. Even living in hostel world I heard a few people talking while I was exploring and between lower prices and not being on the Euro they figured Split was half the price of some equivalent places in Greece. If you happen to be touring Europe and want a cheaper beachside or eastern European adventure I’d really recommend it (though I’d probably suggest grabbing one of the ferries from Italy if you can’t find a cheap flight… That’s what I would have done if I didn’t have a railpass to use. (and sadly none of these ferry companies honoured it like the Greek ones tend to.)

As I write this I’m actually watching a wedding under a big Marquee taking place outside a small station we’ve stopped at. People are dancing in traditional costumes and the bride (I think) is going absolutely wild with them. This really seems like a country where it would be a blast to pick up a Croat-English dictionary and just hit the road. Unfortunately it’s now been 10 minutes stopped here with no one getting on or off and another train also sitting right next to us doing the same so I’m wondering how long the delay will be this time. Likely just enough to keep me from getting to the hostel before the underground in Vienna shuts down for the night.**

*oh, and sadly… no I did not see a Dalmatian on the Dalmatian Coast so the Corgi in Wales is still the dog moment of the trip.

**yes (just barely)