Friday, June 19, 2009

Wrapping up Europe

Some random, yet memorable, things that happened on the trip that didn't warrent their own blog post, but are worth re-telling.

We saw a Vampire on the Paris metro! I tried to take a picture but it didn't go well... seeing as how he's a Vampire and all.

I got Stigmata. It happens... to me... when I touch church doors. Not joking. It was there all day.

The very nice German family we stayed with had to buy me my own Banana Beer glass to take home with me.

Sarah can't pour a Beer to save her frakking life.

I can't work a shower to save my frakking life, wound up panicking and jumping in with my underwear still on.

I tried to get a hold of one of the hostels in Italy. I instead, accidently called the phone company. The dude was speaking some fast and fancy Italian so I handed the phone off to Sarah... who thought she was talking to the hostel. Then I took a step back and enjoyed the mayham.

Belgium is the worst place on the planet.... who knew, right?

I bought so many scarves, I had to buy a scarf rack. It's acually a derralict wine rack but, whateve's.

Sarah can get sunburned, even when there is no sun.

Sarah got mistaken for German everywhere we went. A French chef even yelled at her in German! Way to go Sarah!

SPEAK FRENCH WHEN YOU GO TO FRANCE!!! You will have a better time.

Germany is the best country in the world. The people are friendly and educated, the trains are clean and on time, and the beer and the bread and the schnitzel simply cannot be beat.

Paris (tied with New York) is the best, most user-friendly and beautiful city in the world.

While Germany is the best country, if I had to pick a country to expatriate to, it would most assuradly be France. There's something about the French that just really, really appeales to me. Their haughtyness? Their supiriority complex? The fact that they can compliment you AND deliver a cutting insult all at the same time? Because that is a gift my friend, I can get behind that!


So in summation: Sarah asked me for my final thought on our trip. I said now that I had been, I never needed to go back. This is not quite what I meant. I just meant that next time I go, I will be able to pick and choose what I want to do and not have to aim for all the touristy stuff. That means that Venice and Florence are OUT. Paris is still in but only if I have time. I think my new list will involve some off-the-wall places like Innsbrook, Austria, the Brittany region of France (did you know they're Celtic?), Provonce, France, Switzerland and the Northern parts of Italy.

In the meantime though... I have to dive headfirst into the real world and start my job. Boo. Everybody think European thoughts and perhaps I'll get there faster.

Monday, June 15, 2009

First, you get the money...

Sarah broke down the cost of the trip. Here is her breakdown:

Description Category Amount
WWW.HIHOSTELS.COM WELWYN GARDEN Lodging $7.60
WWW.HIHOSTELS.COM WELWYN GARDEN Lodging $7.86
WWW.HIHOSTELS.COM WELWYN GARDEN Lodging $11.48
EURAIL.COM BV EURAIL.COM Travel
$925.00
WP-HOSTELWORLD.COM ONLINE Lodging $5.22
DB BAHN REISEZENTRUM GIESSEN Travel $82.10
OSTELLO A.I.G. VENEZIA VENEZIA Lodging $116.77
A LA BRICOLA 690 VENEZIA Dining $65.51
TRENITALIA - VENEZIA VENEZIA Travel $42.25
TRENITALIA - FIRENZE S.M FIRENZE Travel $70.42
RISTORANTE ORCAGNA FIRENZE Dining $50.39
OSTELLO S MONACA FIRENZE Lodging $107.92
JUGENDHERBERGE SCHLUCHSEE SCHLUCHSEE Lodging $118.92
CIARUS 2049085 STRASBOURG Lodging $48.19
AJ JULES FERRY 75PARIS 11 Lodging $180.70
LE CRUCHON 67STRASBOURG Dining $103.98
SNCF 0131790 75PARIS 10 Travel $72.77
LE GABRIELLE 8273582 75PARIS Dining $47.58
LE TRUMILOU 2233285 PARIS 04 Dining $54.58
STAYOKAY A'DAM STADSD AMSTERDAM Lodging $112.15
DB BAHN REISEZENTRUM GIESSEN Travel $36.47




total $2,267.86




1/2 total $1,133.93


So I owe Sarah about $1,000 for our trip. We were there for three weeks. I really don't thing that this is unreasonable. And if you look closely, you will note that the majority of money spent was (by far) on train tickets. Next was hostel stays. Then, food. I was shocked. I thought food would be our biggest expense as I need to eat every 1/2 hour. And really, I don't feel like we scrimped on food either.

I'm ready to go home before I spend any more money.

Amsterdam pics!



As per my agreement with the travel Gods, here are some pictures of Amsterdam... and nothing but nice things to go along with them.


The "street" outside of our hostel room. CHAAAAARM!



The view outside of our hostel window. I made a special effort to sleep with my head away from the window so I could wake up to this.


The Dutch L-O-V-E their bikes!


Seriously.


The train station.


Fatty gets some fries from the fry emporium. Fatty don't share.



From the "Nekayah with black jacket and scarf, standing in front of a body of water series": Nekayah in Amsterdam.


And you thought German was ridiculous.



Old-timey building... with drawbridge!


Do you take your city with, or without charm? The Dutch take theirs with charm.




Ye Olde Sex Shoppe.



The floating flower market!


Fatty, surrounded by flowers.


Things that are legal in Amsterdam if you are 18 or over: The above. Ready-to-smoke weed. Prostitution. Hard alcohol at any time of night or day.
Things that are NOT legal in Amsterdam, no matter how old you are: Friggin' Cold Medicine!
From the events of "that day", I was going on no sleep and had a terrible head cold. Nyquil and Dayquil are illegal in all of Europe without a prescription from a doctor.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

That day...

So the "hiccup" in Paris I alluded to set off a chain of events simply known to Sarah and I as "that day". Below is a time line of the events of "that day":

3:30am- A drunk man climbs into the room of our hostel... on the second floor. He putters around the room saying "I'm leaving, I'm leaving". Which he does. Back out the window. Did I mention we were on the second story?

3:30-7:45am- We lie awake, unable to get back to sleep, still wondering how the hell he got up here.

8:00am- Sarah sneezes at the breakfast table and her contacts go flying out of her eyes. We should have taken this as a sign.

10:15am- Took the train from Paris to Rotterdam. There, the train we were supposed to be on to Amsterdam does not show up. They send a tiny, older train. It takes on too many sweaty, local Euro-trash people.

10:45am- Overcrowded train arrives in Roosendaal (aka The Pit of the World). There, an even larger crowd of people wait for an even smaller, dirtier train.

11:20am- Sarah and I, and all our luggage are crowded into a 2nd class train car without seats. There are screaming children. Gum is sat on.

11:50pm- I decide I hate the Dutch.

2:20pm- Arrive in Amsterdam and search out hostel.

3pm- Are issued keys for room "H", bed 9 and 10.

3:05- We walk up 5 flights of stairs. These rooms end at "E".

3:10- Walk up different 5 flights of stairs. Find room "H". Key works to entryway for rooms "H" and "G". We walk into entryway. Discover key does not work for room "H". A nice person in the room lets us in.

3:12- Someone's stuff is all over Sarah's assigned bed. Other girls in the room say that said person is probably just sleeping there because they do not want the top bunk, go ahead and move her stuff.

3:15-3:30- We unpack all of our stuff. It is all over the hostel room. Sarah has claimed her bed. I walk down the 5 flights of stairs to go complain about our key not working.

3:35- I force a nice Dutch man to remake our keys. Meanwhile, Sarah has a problem with her locker and decides to come down to inquire.

3:40- We pass each other in the stairwell. I get back to the room. They key still does not work. The nice girl lets me in again.

3:45- Sarah returns to room. Informs me that we are in the wrong room. I look around. We have beds 9 and 10. I ask the other girls in the room what room this is. This is room "G". Sarah and I exchange looks of mortification.

3:50-4:25- Sarah and I move all of our crap to the other room. She goes back down the 5 flights of stairs to get new sheets as she put hers on another girls bed. I finish unpacking and go to put my backpack in the locker. Someone has usurped my locker.

4:30- Sarah and I pass each other on the stairwell. I am going to figure out what I can do with my stuff without a locker. Looks of mortification are again exchanged.

5pm- We are settled into the Hostel. We debate the merits of exploring Amsterdam with the luck we've had today.

5:15- We decide to brave it, but not before I make a deal with the local Gods. I promise to be on my best behavior in Amsterdam and not say anything bad about it in my blog if it will please, please cut us a break.

5:30-8pm- The local Amsterdam deities keep their end of the bargain. The rest of the day is uneventful and Amsterdam is a charming city.

8:00-10:30- We shower and crawl into bed. I cry myself to sleep. Partly in lament for our bad day, partly in sweet relief that it's over.

Paris pictures



Paris!!! We got to Paris on the first Sunday of June. This meant that all the museums were free! So the first thing we did was head to the Louvre.


The Venus de Milo. Does not disappoint! It's no David but its pretty cool.


The Code of Hammurabi! The first laws... ever. Neal I took this picture for you!




The biggest let-down of the Louvre. You heard me. I was unimpressed.


Now THIS! I don't know what this is, but THIS is ART!


Me, looking awkward surrounded by so much tacky opulence. These are the Napoleon Apartments inside the Louvre.



If you look at this and think "Hey, this is nice!", you have bad taste. Sorry.


Oh, Hello Paris!



The front of the Louvre.





Inside of the famed Notre Dame in Paris. I really do think that the Strausbourg Notre Dame was more impressive.


The front of the Notre Dame.


La la la la, hanging out on a bridge in Paris.


The most iconic thing in an iconic city.

Not a great picture of me but I'll take it. It was cold and bright all at the same time and this place was mobbed with tourists and tour groups and beggars so we wanted to get our pictures and get out!


Me, in front of a fancy fountain!


A 3,300 year old PINK obelisk given to Emperor Charlemagne.


The Champs-Elysees, is alright with me!



From the "Nekayah with black jacket and scarf" series: Nekayah in front of the Arc de Triomphe.



Rodin's The Thinker, in the Rodin sculpture garden.




The above pictures are all in the Rodin sculpture garden. It was totally worth the 6 euros!


The Rodin museum and surrounding garden.


LET-DOWN!


The Paris Catacombs. There is only one picture of me in them, as Sarah was freaked out and ditched me. Yes. Ditched me in an underground cave full of macabre bones.


I have more random Paris pics I will post when this adventure is over. As is, I'm really tired so... I'm out!

Saturday, June 13, 2009

People in France are nice. Just don't go spreading it around.

So I was FREAKED about being responsible for the French portion of our European adventure. Sarah's Italian is good (she lived in Florence for a summer) and her German is AMAZING (she can negotiate train ticket rates, make small-talk, it's really good)! So she took care of Germany and Italy. This left me with the Alsace and (insert dramatic music here) PARIS! Where the people are at the height of proper French usage and expect you to be as well.

We started in the French adventure in Alsace. Things did not go swimmingly. I would ask a question, they would appear to understand me just fine, then they would rattle off an answer that I swear to you was-not-french! I figured that this was to be expected as I learned French in West Africa and now here I am in France... HOME of the French. It's not surprising I can't understand these people and I accept that.

What WAS surprising was how NICE everyone was! At Au Couchon, we had a waitress who spoke little-to-no English. Combine this with my little-to-no French and it could have been disastrous. It was not. First, she dug out a dusty French-to-English FOOD DICTIONARY and brought it to our table. When that STILL wasn't enough to bridge the language gap, this nice young woman resorted to pantomiming. Yes. Pantomiming. As in acting out what our dinner was. They don't tip in Europe, but we left her 5 euros. It was not enough. She made me feel not-stupid and at that point in time, I really needed it.

PARIS.
After the language debacle that was Strausbourg, I was seriously considering cutting Paris short. We get to the hostel and I tell the guy I have a reservation. He asks my name, what day it is for, ok here are your keys, breakfast is in that room at this time, leave the key at reception because there is only one, have a nice stay. I blink a couple of times... did he just say that all in French? Did I just understand this Parisian, rattling stuff off to me? Did I just understand him as clear as day? Oh my god, lets not jinx this!

We check into our room and on the way out I ask for a map of the city and where the nearest metro is... once again, he understands me and I understand him. Amazing. Everywhere we go it's the same thing. The bakeries we patron get that I obviously don't speak French, and if I get stuck on a word, they start with the gestures and the pantomiming and "do you want to try it to see if you like it". What the hell? I was prepared for blank stares and bored sighs.

We get back to our hostel and there is now a woman working the counter. I tell her what room number I need the key for. She says she can't understand me and I freeze. Crap. The French Sword of Damocles just came crashing down on my head. She continues that I need to pronounce the number 12 like this: "Doooooze". She was smiling. I copy her. We say it together. I apologize that my French is bad and she responds in what I like to think is a typical French way: Apathetically indifferent. The words that came out of her mouth were "Yes, your French is not so good... but this is not a big deal"... but somehow it came out with EVERY tone mixed into it. She was being nice, she was lamenting the fact that there are so many tourists in Paris and the French population must be versed in English, she wanted me to go away, she was telling me not to worry. The French are a complicated people.

Stuff like this happened the whole time we were in Paris. I would wander up to someone and say I was looking for something; they would then either respond in VERY clear, slow French or just cut to the chase and speak English.

When it was time to leave Paris, we had to make a reservation for our train to Amsterdam. There were 5 windows open, four of which had a British flag above them (meaning the person in that booth spoke French and English). With our luck, we got the ONE booth with no British flag. We mustered up our courage and went forth as we didn't want to hold up the line. It starts out ok: I need to make a reservation; ok I can do that for you; blah, blah, blah. Then it crops up that there is a problem with the train and then she really starts speaking some fast and fancy French! I interrupt her and say that I'm sorry, I only speak a little French. She also apologizes and says that she only speaks a little English, but that we will meet in the middle. She then proceeds to speak perfect, perfect, perfect English. No huffs, no rolling of the eyes. She was extremely nice and helpful. Once again, I am surprised at how accommodating these people are.

Or not. I was relived to discover that French people are so patient. The whole time in France was great! No tears, no frustration, it's been a pleasure! Goodness, I am going to tell the whole wide world how freaking nice the French are! Yeah. We were in line for the Catacombs (pics coming!) when some American dude starts making conversation with Sarah. It turns out he and his wife CAN NOT WAIT to get the hell out of France BECAUSE THE FRENCH ARE BEING SO RUDE TO THEM. I think he's probably overreacting until his wife gets back in line with him. She went to go get coffee. Where did she get coffee and croissants from? IN PARIS? She searched out a McDonalds. It turns out she was so afraid to go into any of the cafe's because of how badly she and her husband have been treated. Wow.

So I guess the moral of this story is: if you want to go to France, you must at least TRY to speak French. Things go much smoother... apparently.

Oh, PS! I could not understand the people in Strausbourg because (according to the German family we are staying with) the people in that region have a very thick accent that is NOT a French accent. To them, it sounds like a German who learned French. This makes sense as it is right by Germany.
Come to think of it, that terribly handsome Alsatian chef at Au Couchon came out to explain to a German couple what was on the menu. Le sigh... if only we had made it evident that Sarah spoke German. I would be married right now. To a handsome, bi-lingual Alsatian chef.

PPS So there was a slight hiccup in Paris. It wasn't anyone's fault. But it started off a horrible chain of events on... that day. More on that later. Everyone is fine! But that day... shudder.

The food of the Alsace: Hearty and German... but French-ed up!

The Alsace is known for its amazing white wines. Talking about wine makes anyone sound like a pretentious bitch so I'll keep it brief: They are famous for Riesling, Gewürztraminer and Muscat d'Alsace. So it goes sweet, sweeter and sweetest. I brought home a Riesling and a Muscat, and Sarah and I had a jug of Gewürztraminer with the MOST amazing dinner either of us has ever had in our lives.
This is the place where I almost chucked it all in and married a chef who didn't speak a word of English... but who worked magic in the kitchen. In all seriousness, Sarah and I were trying to think of ways for me to stay in Strausbourg, marry the chef and drink white wine out of a jug, everyday.
Below are a few pictures of the experience. They don't do it justice. Sorry!


The restaurant I was standing outside of from earlier posts. We found a small description of it in our guidebook. It sounded fine, but when we went at 6 for diner it was closed. We figured we would just find something else. We were getting ready to leave when another party walks up and starts checking out the place. I ask in my broken French if they know when it opens. They reply in incomprehensible French... this alerts Sarah that they are German. The question is repeated (with better results) in German by Sarah. They heard about this place from locals and it doesn't open until 7, but it is sooo good that they came an hour early to make a reservation.





This is what the place looks like inside. There were only 6 tables. This kind of restaurant is called a "Winestub" and their focus is traditional, regional, seasonal cuisine. The name of the place was "Au Couchon" (I think it means ceramic wine jug, as that is what our Gewürztraminer came in).




This is Sarah with her Ham Knuckle... sounds kinda gross. I assure you, it was quite the opposite. This was the most delicious thing in the world. End of discussion.


My dinner came in a giant shell! It was a cheese soufflé with crayfish from the local river. So good!

Living in California, we have a plethora of fine eating options. Dinner at this tiny-ass restaurant in the Alsace blew everything out of the water. All the posh places in Napa try to emulate what that handsome Alsatian chef does in the kitchen on a nightly basis. They pale in comparison; it's really kind of embarrassing. If you've ever thought "Hey, I just had a really fancy meal at "fill in the blank expensive restaurant in California". And a great wine to go with it! I'm on top of the world!" You would be incorrect. Save your money. Buy a plane ticket to Paris. Take the train to the town of Stausbourg in Alsace, wait until 7pm, go to rue du Parcelles and find "Au Couchon". You're welcome.

PS Don't get any ideas about that chef. He is mine... or he is dating the pantomiming waitress, but that's another story.