Transportation

There are many a way to traverse distances. In our time in Europe, we have experienced a surprisingly large quantity of them:

PLANE - Well, obviously. Plane from San Francisco to Cleveland, Cleveland to London. Still stirs memories of wretched blond dutch children screaming at 4 am.

METRO - We were welcomed into the arms of the metro in London, and it has been our predominant means of local travel. The metro maps are all similarly designed, regardless of country, and they scream GAME in a way that only an immensely well thought out and organized system can. 

I don't know why we took this picture, but there you go

CAR - Between Ian, Fangsy, the Englands, Betty, and the Von Wuthenaus, we've had quite a few car trips, some more eventful, or frightening (Hi Betty!) than others.

CAR (ON A FERRY) - One of the more awesome things we did with the Englands was drive the car onto a ferry, cross the river, and then drive off the ferry.

TRAIN - Ah, trains. The absolute failsafe. We have taken trains across the continent, seen the good, bad, and ugly, and they remain one of the most magical types of transportation. There's something terribly muse-like about watching scenery pass you by, actively progressing without any activity. We've had some of our best book discussions on trains, and done some of our best writing.

One of our first trains, in England

TRAIN (ON A FERRY) - So this one really messed us up. I woke up on the train all discombobulated with Hanna poking me being like "Chelsea, we're on a ferry." And I was all "Uuah?" True story. Much like the Car-On-A-Ferry method, our train rolled onto the ferry, we all disembarked, hung out on deck, and climbed back on board when we landed on the other side. (This particular bit was the train from Copenhagen to Hamburg).

TRAIN (SLEEPER) - This deserves its own category just for the sheer ridiculousness that was fitting into a middle bunk.

What is going on?!

TRAM - These are really just above ground metros in my opinion... Most memorable? The ones in Nice. Because we accidentally didn't pay once. We rectified it, don't worry, but it was scary there for a sec.

BUS - I think the most memorable bus would be the one to Monaco, which was actually thisclose to making Hanna throw up. I don't think I've ever seen her look more sick - not even on the ferry to Saint Malo.

BUS (ON A FERRY) - You can thank the Irish sea for this one. That's what you get for being a foot passenger.

FERRY -  The ferry up the Rhine is by far the standout ferry in my opinion, and not only because we didn't start off in the cargo hold (we need to get to the ventilation shaft!). As with the trains, watching scenery pass by is simply thrilling and so inspirational.

WATER TAXI - The Englands took us on a water taxi to get over to Plymouth, wherein we indulged in cherry vodka, fish n' chips, and ice cream with clotted cream.

FUNICULAR - We have been on two funiculars: One halfway up Montserrat, the other to the top of a hill in Lyon to see the church.

On the way up Montserrat

HORSE - Technically, we went in a circle on them, but I still believe it's absolutely legitimate to include them here.

That's Hanna up there on the white horse

FOOT - I don't know what we'd do if we didn't each have a pair of wonderful feet to carry us across this world. We've climbed mountains with these feet, spent entire twelve hour days on these feet exploring Paris or Prague or Vienna. My feet are sore as I speak, and the skin between my pinky toe and the one next to it is actually an itchy, lymph-juice soaked open wound at the moment, and yet we carry on! Our feet have done us good this trip, no doubt about it, so this one goes out to them. Yes, that's what you get for reading the whole entry.

Never Take Candy from Train Stations

Mother always said --- wait, no, that's not what she said. But regardless we should have been far more wary.

It's easy to blame Ethan, our unsuspecting Harvard sophomore we picked up in Padborg, Denmark, and journeyed with through Copenhagen. We had a few minutes before the train, and the store's assortment of multicolored, if predominantly black, candies beckoned him to the point of purchase.

"One of everything!" he said, and the next minute Hanna and I were shaking our heads, but complying. As the Amsterdam science center taught us 'the worst crimes are not those of disobedience, but obedience'.

We didn't get around to eating them until the following night, in the elder wonderland of Tivoli.

One of Everything

You'll note the disproportionate amount of black, and also that some of the black looks to be sugar coated. Now, neither Hanna nor I like licorice, but perhaps, we thought, it would be better with sugar.

Oh, cruel world, had we but known!

T'was not sugar, but salt.

Now, I am almost completely convinced that every time someone eats a piece of salty licorice a kitten gets run over by a car. That is how truly, horrifyingly, inexcusably awful this "CANDY" is. 

And for some inexplicable reason, we kept eating until it was gone. Like climbing a mountain. Made of burning sulfur. 

Never forget.

I Heart Prague

Everyone says that Prague is beautiful. And in this case Everyone is right.



We got into Prague two days ago and after five minutes of wandering narrow streets, gazing at the river and the copper spires turned green with age, we stumbled upon an open air performance.

It was modern dance, performed in full suits to harsh repetitive electronic music and with a dozen or so desks as props. Chelsea and I stood entranced for the whole thing. They managed to work in people dropping pages out of phone books from the five story buildings surrounding us and a naked man in a window with a cell phone.



This is the first city where the tacky “I heart 'insert city here'” t-shirts has been tempting. We love Prague.

Also – 1 USD works out to nearly 20 kroner here. And as opposed to Denmark where a similar phenomenon meant nothing, here we got Indian food for two people for less than 10 dollars. As stated: We love Prague.

We spent most of the day, roughly 9ish hours, walking around today.



This though I blame on Paris. A result of our stay in Paris is that we got used to small spaces on city maps taking us a long time to traverse on foot. Paris is huge, so an inch or so on my Paris map is roughly 15-20 minutes walking. But now, in smaller cities, and especially old city centers, we tend to cross whole blocks of the map without noticing – hence we missed Amsterdam’s red light district the first time we walked through it.

So in Prague, when we look at a map with our hostel and the zoo literally on opposite sides and then gauge from our walking the day before that it really wouldn’t be that bad of a trek we shrug our shoulders and head out.



And as we are heading back, it is less of a bother to walk than to try to figure out the bus.

We are safely in the hostel now – tomorrow we take off for Vienna. Our feet hurt and we could stand to do laundry. Soon. But we love Prague. Ciao!

On Friends

As much as this crazy adventure is about seeing new and phenomenal places, it's also about meeting friends, old and new. We've been incredibly lucky with the friends we've met and who've helped us, so this entry goes out to all of you!

Steph and Michelle

We started our journey meeting with two of Hanna's friends from her writing group in Kent State, Steph and Michelle. They wandered around London with us and warned us about the upcoming journey, being on the tail end of their own (and only slightly worse for wear ;)). Perhaps the most curiously delightful experience we shared was plunging into the brick wall of Platform 9¾.

Michelle and Hanna in front of the Tower Bridge

Michelle and Steph

Raymond “Ray” Rozman

I haven't any idea how Hanna met Ray, actually, but he's currently studying castles in the UK, and that should be enough for anyone to love him. We met up with him in York and he showed us around the wall and took us for our first ever Meat Pies.

At the top of the wall in York

Chilling in the Ace Hotel, home of creepy haunted rooms.

Ian and Trish

Whilst we've already toted the wonder that is Wicklow Town Hostel I'm going to tell you again how amazing this couple was. Having both lost their jobs to the economy, they opened up their house as a hostel about six weeks before we arrived. They are without a doubt the kindest strangers I ever met. In addition to making fresh bread for us every morning, talking with us in the evenings, and going well out of their way to suggest and find things for us to do in Wicklow and beyond (Horseback riding!), they left breakfast out for us at 4:00AM before our wretched Ireland train debacle. 4:00AM. That is love. 

So Ian and Trish, here's to you!

Outside the Wicklow Town Hostel

John and Jackie England

The fun thing about John and Jackie was that they are actually friends of my grandmom and grandad Weidman. They all served together in Berlin during the war and became fast friends, and Hanna and I were lucky enough to reap the benefits. Here or otherwhere I've mentioned the food they gave us: fresh strawberries with devonshire cream, double cream, meringue, and ice cream. Every night. They also toured us all over southern England, putting up with rather wretched weather in favor of seeing a wee outline of stones that had once been Tintagel Castle. I also got to hear stories about my grandparents I'd never heard before, and that's always a treat. Thank you both!

On the water taxi to Plymouth proper

Betty!!!

I really wish we had more contact info for Betty, because she deserves more thanks than we gave her. (Check out the Montserrat update)

At the base of the funicular

Rhynn

We met Rhynn in Lyon and wandered around with her, seeing demon horse fountains and trying to find entrances to the catacombs. Rhynn was the first person to ever draw my D&D character, so we were fast friends, but it's always a little odd to meet people from The Internetz. However, we had an absolutely amazing time - hell, I even tried chicken liver!

Leah

So siblings also count as friends, as Leah, Hanna tells me, is a pretty awesome sibling. We met up with Leah in Geneva, Switzerland, where she's studying for the semester. After a day spent wander about the lake, we took a trip to Lausanne, wherein we found a lovely museum, wherein we found a lovely section on the inquisition, wherein we found a lovely wooden nook room with a jail cell attached. ... So we took a picture.

No one suspects.

The Von Wuthenaus

Kirsten was an exchange student when my Aunt Rachel was still living with my Grandmom Weidman. They kept in touch through the years and now Kirsten is married to Nicholas Von Wuthenau and they've got four awesome kids, Sophie, Juliane, Constantin, and Cornelius. The first day we were in Bad Homburg with them, Juliane, who doesn't speak English, and Hanna and I, who speak pretty awful German, had a chance to play on a trampoline together, where we quickly learned that fun is a universal language.

Etwas Komisch!

Jane and Kiyash

The first day we attempted to meet Jane and Kiyash in Paris failed miserably. We both waited for each other for two hours, in two separate places, about two blocks apart. When we realized this later that night, we were a special sort of sad, but luckily we managed to track them down the next day and discuss all sorts of wonderful fun, like Gameful and near death experiences and Pierre Herme.

Fun makes the best friends

Ethan Pieeeerce

We met Ethan during the Epic Train Fail of 9/15 in the desolate town of Padburg, where we had all been stranded by the 3.5 hours late Deutsch Bahn sleeper train. An argyle wearing Harvard soph taking a year off, Ethan was one of the first travelers we'd met who didn't seem obsessed with sex, drinking, and partying. Insta-friend. We stayed in the same hostel in Copenhagen and hung out together for pretty much three straight days. He is also the madman behind the Great Candy Trial. Gosh, I missed having freshmen!

Hanna, Lee, Ethan, Me! Ethan also loved hot dogs...

Lee Santelle

A friend of Hanna's from Spring Gardens, we met Lee in Odense, Denmark, and then hung out with him again in Copenhagen. He, much like us, is a tad bit crazy, but we channeled that insanity into a bizarre day wandering an old Copenhagen carnival called Tivoli and eating ridiculous food.

In the rose gardens of the Danish Palace in Copenhagen

SO

Thank you, thank you dear friends for making this journey so wonderful :)

Second Recap

Okay – For everyone’s sanity I’m going to do another recap. We will surely backtrack a little in a few days here, as we have been doing, but I figured it might be good to mention some highlights and where we are now.

Since we left Nice a lot has happened.

We got to Geneva, met my sister (YAY!), climbed a tower (awesome, but we feel like after Monteserrat it takes a lot of stairs to impress us), and witnessed what Chelsea has dubbed simply “The Spew”



After that we went to chill in Heidelberg, and experienced, once more, the power of chocolate and the pure ingenuity of the German varieties of this godlike substance.



From there we hid in Bad Homburg, and with the kind and timely help of the Von Wuthenaus, we recouped.

down time + excellent people = happy Chelsea and Hanna



And then back to Paris. The city of lights and love did not disappoint. Well, actually, considering what we were warned to expect in Paris, we were happily surprised. The people were nice. The streets were as clean as one might hope in a huge city. And of course, there was something of historical/literary/aesthetic/artistic significance on every other street corner.



After an epic misadventure involving a cathedral and twitter (which deserves its own post) we met up with Jane and Kiyash. Who, in turn, addicted us to Pierre Herme macaroons (which we hunted, purchased and consumed on each successive day of our stay in Paris. They don’t ship the macaroons. We were sad.)

And that brings us to Amsterdam. Amsterdam has a certain reputation. In order to fully experience the city we did the only thing possible. We went to the science center! Yes, we spent our one day in Amsterdam playing at the Nemo with a bunch of science happy Dutch children. It was brilliant.



From there we took the sleeper (or tried to) to Copenhagen. After running 3.5 hours late (“too late”, according to our charming conductor) it left us in Padborg.

Never heard of it? Well, neither had we. We arrived in Copenhagen 5.5 hours later than planned with an extra Ethan we picked up along the way. He probably deserves a post too.

That brings us about up to the present. We met Lee yesterday – fellow contributor to Auslander (theforeigners.tumblr.com) and are traveling together today. Assuming his train is on time.


Cheers!

Montserrat

Hanna has been pestering me to write about Montserrat, and while my entry on the Diamond Pony Pineapple Guardians is also pressing, I have decided The Mountain comes first.

It happened by mistake. We underestimated the time it would take to get to the train station and by the time we arrived the train to Valencia was long gone. We could have caught another one, but the previous night a friend suggested we go to Montserrat - a mountain housing a monastery that he knew from his grandfather's travels during the war. There is a sort of sneaky joy at following the wind and engaging these silly whims, so we caught the next train to Montserrat instead. Or at least we tried.

Despite waking up at six AM, we didn't actually make it to Montserrat until 2PM (It's about an hour outside of Barcelona). We were advised to take the wrong train - which we did - all the way out and back - which took about two or three hours, and then when we finally thought we were on the right train and got off at what we thought was the right stop, we realized the mountain was still a valley away and the train station we'd stopped at was deserted, boarded up, and covered in graffiti.

Awesome.

That was about when we met Betty:

We met Betty because she was the only person within easy walking distance of the abandoned train station.  We told her we needed to get to Montserrat, and she laughed at us and went back in her house. Hanna and I, somewhat dumbfounded, watched as she returned with keys and pointed to her car. Oh god. I don't need to hablo to comprendo that.

She looked cheerful, was wearing orange, and we were in the middle of hella nowhere. So what did we do?

Yes, yes, we got in the car.

I videod the whole thing - just in case she killed us - but it turns out that Betty is just one of those genuinely awesome human beings. She drove us the several kms to the funicular at the base of the mountain, and we promptly rode it to the monastery about halfway up the mountain.

Going up!

So we make it to the Monastery, both of us in interesting moods given the amount of travel mishaps we've had, and the lack of food that went along with it. We ask the information booth what the most beautiful place to take pictures is, and she smiles and says "The top of the mountain".

It's a 2-3 hour hike. Upwards. The mountain is 1.2 miles high. There is no water, no bathrooms, nothing but blazing sunshine and steep rock steps.

About this time, my Challenger persona flicks on. I have been given a difficult task and enough time to do it before nightfall. I am capable and stubbornly motivated. I want to climb the mountain, crushes and memes aside, to prove to myself that I can.

So we buy food and water and we start to climb the mountain.

And lo, we made it to the top.

Challenge met, obstacle overcome. We went home exhausted and empowered - as it should be.

pop culture reference:

Ocean (Sans Ponies)

Most of you know that three years ago I did the Semester at Sea program – studied on a cruise ship while it sailed places and wandered those places when we got there and there were no diamond ponies in the ocean.

*brief skirmish*

(and I got my computer back from Chelsea…)

I blather about it often, so I beg your indulgence if I go back to it briefly.

Before Semester at Sea I was hugely excited about spending so much time close to the ocean. I’ve been relatively close to Lake Erie most of my life, but it isn’t quite the same thing. The oceans, the seven seas, have inspired so much. Poets and explorers alike have been captivated by the sea for thousands of years. And I admit, I was looking to be impressed.

And I wasn’t, really. It was vast, incomprehensibly so – I remember realizing that it would take me an hour or so walking straight down to reach the earth beneath my feet – but not what I was looking for. It also gave me horrific motion sickness.

I found the ocean fascinating in the way a screensaver can be, or the DVD symbol bouncing ever closer to the corners of a TV. While diverting, it was not the stuff of poetry.

And thus it remained for the first week or so. Then we hit rough water between Hawaii and Japan. The waves were double my height, and the forbidding storm grey, steel gray that is the province of poets. The sun set on this ocean, unobstructed save for the horizon and I leaned out on the slick rail. Sea spray hit my face and I tasted salt. And I have loved the ocean since.

And I have missed her for three years.

So getting to spend time in places near the various oceans and seas has been important, like running into an old friend. Who still makes me queasy if I’m not careful.

We’ve skimmed over our ocean voyages so far on the blog – mostly because the first few we slept through, and our last was governed by incredibly rough water and our gloom at having departed the Englands and England.

I would like to put in a good word for the Irish Sea, as providing a gorgeous backdrop for Wicklow and a sunrise I had not intended to see over it. The residents insisted that it was possible to swim, but Chelsea and I declined.

In Barcelona and Nice we actually went and fluttered about in the ocean. In Nice especially the waves had a kick to them, enough to knock the knees from under you if you weren’t paying attention. And I find it strangely comforting to be so very small and to play, carefully, with something so very big.

In Nice too we got to see jellyfish. Chelsea noticed them first – small black leaf-like critters – and decided it was best to evacuate the area.

She did not tell me what led to her haste. I chilled in the water for another moment and upon perceiving that Chelsea was done with the water I too climbed out. Then she explained why she retreated to dry land. To her credit, she was not sure they were jellyfish, they might just as easily have been leaves and paranoia.

A minute later an older man came towards us, holding out a Pringles can. As Chelsea and I tried to politely decline his offer of chips he showed us a tiny captive jellyfish. He had mistaken it for a condom until he noticed there were lots of them.

We have since learned that these were velella velella and they are Chelsea’s new favorite jellyfish. We have also learned that they are harmless to humans, although one should wash ones hands before touching ones eyes and face after handling them. And nudibranchs eat them.

Now we are on the way to Geneva, and away from the ocean. For now.

(ps. the ponies will make sense next time. Promise)

Dodge the Ferrari

So before Orange and Avignon, Chelsea and I spent a few days on the Cote d’Azur, wandering the various seaside towns of the French Mediterranean. We spent some time in Monaco and Cannes, but stayed in Nice.



Now, we have spent nights in various sorts of accommodation on this trip. Mostly dorms found on www.hostelbookers.com or in the occasional one star hotel near the train station. We also had our fabulous evenings with the Englands. The dorms have all been quiet, although averaging 8 beds or so. Some hostels have had owners we sat and talked to, like in Wickow, and others have been more like hotels.

The hostel in Nice however was our first truly ‘hip’ hostel.

Coming into Nice we met a French girl on the train also looking for a hostel. She ended up following us to ours, and when we got there, no one at reception spoke French. It was disconcerting. After spending around a week in countries that do not speak English we’ve grown accustomed to apologizing and communicating with one or two words and smiles. And here, not only the receptionists, but the massive staff (bartenders, cooks, shuttle drivers, laundresses, etc…) all spoke English. Most, I would guess, were Australian.

We were told where the bar was and directed to the signs for that night’s dinner. The hostel had a bar as well as a kitchen, half of which was public, with the other half reserved for a few fellows cooking pizzas and making salads for the general crowd. For which, I will mention, we were grateful – a long day of traveling with food at the end is much preferable to a long day of traveling followed by a search for food.

As we sat waiting for our meal, bouncing our heels to the loud music and sipping our drinks, I realized something odd. My drink was still cold. It had ice in it. I’d gotten so used to drinks with no ice that it felt strange.



Looking around I felt stranger still.

All the girls at this hostel had done hair, and I think I counted five or six that were not wearing short skirts.

I think Chelsea and I might have stood out.

Her bright orange pants and my ragged baggy ones, our hair, which while cute is not coiffed, and our distinct lack of interest in good party spots or guys might have set us apart. Also our lack of social skills.

Give us nudibranchs and fantasy novels, games or politics, and conversation zooms. But what we did last night? Ummm . . . slept.

I don’t know how we both missed this skill. Talking to the woman in the chocolate shop about food and Los Angeles? Easy. To Trish in Wicklow about Facebook? Peaches. To Veronique about organic farming? Done. To our peers with loud music in the background and alcohol available?

Epic fail.

That said, it was an awesome hostel, and we did have a good time, just not the same way everyone else did.

Monaco was a different kind of disconnect. The streets were not actually as bad as I thought they would be. The people on the streets were mostly tourists like us, here for a day to glimpse the casino. The people driving were a different matter. Hence the title. All my stereotypes were fulfilled by a youngish gent driving a Ferrari with slicked back hair, a polo shirt and aviators that probably cost more than everything in my backpack.

The yachts were also impressive.

We choose to spend a chunk of our time at a Haagen Daz Cocktail Bar a few blocks from the Monte Carlo Casino. We paid ridiculous prices for excellent smoothies while catching snatches of the conversation next to us that seemed to consist of the words “Dubai” and “investment”.



All in all we learn more about ourselves, our limits and comfort zones and our ability to laugh at the ridiculousness of a situation, even as it happens.

Peace, my friends.

Ode to Orange

I've had "a thing" for orange since 2005, when I decided, abruptly and for no reason I can remember, that it was an amazing, invigorating, quirky, and especially underloved member of the rainbow. I made orange curtains. I made those curtains into pants. I purchased 75% of all orange inventory in IKEA. It is why this blog is orange, and why my entries are orange. I am obsessed.

So today we went to Orange.

I made sure to dress appropriately.

And of course, we had to find the orange store. Even more reliable than McDonald's or Starbucks, these Orange stores are EVERYWHERE. I have made a point to take a picture by each one we come across, but there is little more satisfying than wearing ALL ORANGE in front of the ORANGE STORE in the city OF ORANGE. Can you guys tell this made my life?

I had a field day.

Orange Car in Orange:

Candied Orangettes in Orange:

The COUNT of Orange in Orange:

I will pause to say we didn't go ENTIRELY because the town was named Orange but because, in fact, there is an amazingly well preserved Roman amphitheatre there:

I can happily say I don't know which delighted me more, but suffice it to say I have had a brilliant orange day.