(Tim) The Journey has now reached Barcelona, or more accurately, the land of many speech impediments. As the title suggests, people here pronounce their "s" sound like "th." Not terribly important, but kind of amusing for the rest of us. Here we have seen the mecca of street performers. The most fascinating to us are the people who try to look like statues, or as we refer to them, "the idiots who literally do nothing and expect money." There are two types of these clowns. On one hand you have the people who actually look like statues, and get no money from me. The others are the people who don't even remotely look like anything other than a fool standing kind of still and sure as hell get no money from me. We just walk by and say "you just don't get it, do you Scott?"
I'd like to take the time to send a special hello to our friend and roommie from Mexico. Hey, if you have a tendancy to sleep through alarms, please don't turn it up all the way in hopes that this will increase the chances of rousing you from your hibernation, MOTHERFUCKER! Also, when the first three go off nice and early in the morning and do wake you up, please don't turn it off and fall back to sleep so you can sleep through the next three, ASSHOLE! Next time, there's an mp3 player with your name on it, bitch. On a related note, Tom has found his competition for worst person in the universe to have for a roommate at night. Honestly, what did I do to deserve this injustice? Given the choice to be awoken by a freight train through the wall or deal with Tom's snoring, I'd really have to think about it. At least I could sleep before the train came. And I know what some of my former roommies are saying: "Tim, you haven't exactly been snore-free since '93 either, buddy." But with Tom we're talking Guinness Book here. A word of advice to anyone planning on spending a night in the same building as Tom: industrial-strength earplugs.
Yesterday we took a stroll along the beaches of Spain. And we walked so far that I thought we may have covered all of them. At one point I thought I saw Morocco. Some of the gents may be interested to know that being topless is quite popular at the beaches in Barcelona. Now don't, like Tom, get too kid-in-a-candy-store on me just yet. For most of these women, it's "yeah, go ahead and put that back on. Your tan is not as important as me keeping me lunch down." And I really don't understand why most of these people feel the need to tan more. You can just walk down the beach seeing people and thinking "cancer, cancer, everywhere, and not a cure to have." But hey, maybe permanently pruned skin is en vogue here.
As we strolled into a pub on the first day, it occured to me that maybe vegetarians wouldn¡t like it here so much. Right next to the tap was a pig leg in a clamp; hoof, skin, and everything. The bartender would just scoop out flesh from it from time to time. Fortunately I enjoy my place in the food chain and remained hungry and unphased. However, as I sat there, it occured to me that maybe vegetarians are on to somehting with their healthy eating, and seeing as we've eaten nothing but garbage on this tr¡p, I saw a vegetarian store and decided to give it a try. And you know what? It wasn't so bad. Eating vegetarian could become a habit for me. It's amazing how tasty and filling a basket of fries with garlic mayo can be. That red meat can kill you.
As some of you may have guessed from this rambling blog, our trip to Barcelona hasn't been too action-packed, but that ¡s not to say we're not enjoying ourselves. As a matter of fact, I was able to attend a classical Spanish guitar show (Tom was on board until he heard that Gwen Stefani wasn't opening). As some of you know, I'm a bit partial to guitar music, and naturally, I really enjoyed it. Other than that, we've just done a lot of relaxing here. As a matter of fact, Tom also made sure that we went up to the castle on the mountain to enjoy the view together. Very scenic. I was a bit surprised when he wanted to leave before sunset. Maybe it was something I said.
p.s. for those of you who've figured it out, this post is late due to technical difficulties.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Alexander the Greatest Giannikoulis
(Tom) First off, my apologies to the hundreds of people who have emailed/called/telegraphed asking why I havent posted lately. Greece and Rome have kept me busy. I shall begin with Greece.
Let me start by noting that Alex Giannikoulis is the man! We pull in Thursday night/Friday morning at like 4am. Tim covered the part where we are driven out to the middle of nowhere by some old man driving at least 3oo miles an hour. Abandoned buildings everywhere. Seconds after I had made my peace with God, we pull up to what looks like his house, but turns out to be a really nice little hotel.
Friday we head to the airport to meet this Alex kid. I had high expectations because on at least 10 occasions thus far on the trip, Tim would spontaneously laugh at seemingly nothing and when I would ask what's so funny, he'd respond. This Alex kid from Greece is hilarious, I cant wait to get there. So we meet Alex. First words out of his mouth are "BODACIOUS!!" Good start. Then before grabbing a taxi, he tells us to wait a second so he can say goodbye to a few ladies he met on the plan. 10 minutes in, and I like this Greek kid. We head back to his place. A 4 story palace owned by the Giannikoulis's. Alex lives alone in the penthouse while about 37 of his cousins share the bottom three floors. The building has balconies that wrap around it 360 degrees. Tim and I each get our own room with a balcony that views the hills of Greece.
Next we head out for coffee. I was hesitant about this one. Coffee? I can get coffee in Manhattan on any corner. But this coffee place sits on the Aegean Sea. Not bad.
Next we go home and get ready to go out for some Greek food, then some Greek nightlife. Tim and I didn't order a single thing the entire time there. We'd get to a restaurant and Alex would ask "Anything you guys dont like?" Tim would say nope and I say as long as there is no salad or vegetables Im good. He'd then bust out some Greek to the waitress and the next thing I know there are Gyros everywhere. I swear, everytime they brought out this stuff I heard a choir of angels singing. After food we head out to a club in Athens. We walk up some stairs to a nice little club with a big balcony. This time the view was the Parthenon. Pretty cool. Tim and Tom conversed to one another while Alex talked to maybe every Greek girl in the place. Did I mention this guy is the man in Greece! Oh, then Tim was ready to throw down with the bartender who would not accept his 100 Euro bill. Things get blurry after that, but I do remember more food somewhere and finally strolling home as it was getting light out.
The next day I announce, "I had an AWESOME time last night." Alex responds with, "We know you had an awesome time. I think the entire town knows you had an awesome time!" We then headed out down the Southern coast to Sounio where we saw an acient temple in honor of Poseidon. Along the way we were versed on Greek History by Alex the Great. Tim keeps interjecting with stats about the Great Pyramid but Alex keeps us focused on the Greeks. Then we make our way to the Giannikoulis resort. This is a small piece of land with a vineyard, a small house, outdoor stove, and every fruit tree you can imagine. A bunch of Alex's aunts and uncles were there. Tim and Tom were the only non Greek speakers present. As we picked fruit, threw the football around, and relaxed, the aunts cooked us a feast of lamb. As an aside, while the Greeks may know food, architecture, futbol(thats soccer people), and ouzo, Alex showed us they have not mastered American football. Tim at receiver, Tom as QB, and Alex doing his best Deion Sanders impression:
Tom: what do you want to do
Tim: how bout i just run straight ahead and you throw it as far as you can.
Tom: Sounds good, ready break.
TOUCHDOWN!!!!
In Alex the Great's defense, we did have a half a foot on him. I had about 30 pounds on him too and Tim had at least 70.(wow im funny)
We then had a great meal and drank wine made right there from the vineyard. In the background Alex's uncles played backgammon with the competive style of an O'Hagan Turkey Bowl.
That night, it was Greek nightlife again. Vodka was the poison and Timmy was the target. This time the club was on the beach. They bring out a bottle of vodka and a bunch of mixers and Tim announces " can't they just bring us a case of beer."
Sunday we toured Athens. Then we headed to a futbol(soccer) game where we were honorary invitees to play. We could not have looked more out of place. Two big English speaking guys with no soccer garb whatsoever. Only Alex speaks English as well. The game starts and I wasn't sure how I was doing, but all I know is that by the end of the 1st half, the Greeks kept yelling Pelé everytime I touched the ball. My legs are still sore 4 days later. And as Tim stated, the American boys accounted for half the offense in the great victory. Oh, and if anyone finds themselves playing a pick up game of soccer in Athens, be warned. Apparently pulling your shirt over your head, sticking your arms out like wings while taking a victory lap and screaming GOOOOAAAAALLLLL after you score is "poor sportsmanship". Whatever.
Monday it was site seeing for Tim and Tom. We saw the parthenon and other ruins. Very impressive. Very large. Very old. And then Alex the Great took us off to the airport.
All in all, I have made several observations about Greece and Alex the Great Giannikoulis.
1. He will most certainly rule all of Athens shortly
2. Impossible to take a bad picture in Greece
3. Every single female between the ages of 19 and 40 knows of Alex the Great Giannikoulis.
4. Greek gyros may actually rival Chicago pizza for greatest food on Earth.
5. I will be headed back soon.
I now sit in Rome and Tim and Tom will head to Barcelona tonight. I will document Rome next. Until then.
Let me start by noting that Alex Giannikoulis is the man! We pull in Thursday night/Friday morning at like 4am. Tim covered the part where we are driven out to the middle of nowhere by some old man driving at least 3oo miles an hour. Abandoned buildings everywhere. Seconds after I had made my peace with God, we pull up to what looks like his house, but turns out to be a really nice little hotel.
Friday we head to the airport to meet this Alex kid. I had high expectations because on at least 10 occasions thus far on the trip, Tim would spontaneously laugh at seemingly nothing and when I would ask what's so funny, he'd respond. This Alex kid from Greece is hilarious, I cant wait to get there. So we meet Alex. First words out of his mouth are "BODACIOUS!!" Good start. Then before grabbing a taxi, he tells us to wait a second so he can say goodbye to a few ladies he met on the plan. 10 minutes in, and I like this Greek kid. We head back to his place. A 4 story palace owned by the Giannikoulis's. Alex lives alone in the penthouse while about 37 of his cousins share the bottom three floors. The building has balconies that wrap around it 360 degrees. Tim and I each get our own room with a balcony that views the hills of Greece.
Next we head out for coffee. I was hesitant about this one. Coffee? I can get coffee in Manhattan on any corner. But this coffee place sits on the Aegean Sea. Not bad.
Next we go home and get ready to go out for some Greek food, then some Greek nightlife. Tim and I didn't order a single thing the entire time there. We'd get to a restaurant and Alex would ask "Anything you guys dont like?" Tim would say nope and I say as long as there is no salad or vegetables Im good. He'd then bust out some Greek to the waitress and the next thing I know there are Gyros everywhere. I swear, everytime they brought out this stuff I heard a choir of angels singing. After food we head out to a club in Athens. We walk up some stairs to a nice little club with a big balcony. This time the view was the Parthenon. Pretty cool. Tim and Tom conversed to one another while Alex talked to maybe every Greek girl in the place. Did I mention this guy is the man in Greece! Oh, then Tim was ready to throw down with the bartender who would not accept his 100 Euro bill. Things get blurry after that, but I do remember more food somewhere and finally strolling home as it was getting light out.
The next day I announce, "I had an AWESOME time last night." Alex responds with, "We know you had an awesome time. I think the entire town knows you had an awesome time!" We then headed out down the Southern coast to Sounio where we saw an acient temple in honor of Poseidon. Along the way we were versed on Greek History by Alex the Great. Tim keeps interjecting with stats about the Great Pyramid but Alex keeps us focused on the Greeks. Then we make our way to the Giannikoulis resort. This is a small piece of land with a vineyard, a small house, outdoor stove, and every fruit tree you can imagine. A bunch of Alex's aunts and uncles were there. Tim and Tom were the only non Greek speakers present. As we picked fruit, threw the football around, and relaxed, the aunts cooked us a feast of lamb. As an aside, while the Greeks may know food, architecture, futbol(thats soccer people), and ouzo, Alex showed us they have not mastered American football. Tim at receiver, Tom as QB, and Alex doing his best Deion Sanders impression:
Tom: what do you want to do
Tim: how bout i just run straight ahead and you throw it as far as you can.
Tom: Sounds good, ready break.
TOUCHDOWN!!!!
In Alex the Great's defense, we did have a half a foot on him. I had about 30 pounds on him too and Tim had at least 70.(wow im funny)
We then had a great meal and drank wine made right there from the vineyard. In the background Alex's uncles played backgammon with the competive style of an O'Hagan Turkey Bowl.
That night, it was Greek nightlife again. Vodka was the poison and Timmy was the target. This time the club was on the beach. They bring out a bottle of vodka and a bunch of mixers and Tim announces " can't they just bring us a case of beer."
Sunday we toured Athens. Then we headed to a futbol(soccer) game where we were honorary invitees to play. We could not have looked more out of place. Two big English speaking guys with no soccer garb whatsoever. Only Alex speaks English as well. The game starts and I wasn't sure how I was doing, but all I know is that by the end of the 1st half, the Greeks kept yelling Pelé everytime I touched the ball. My legs are still sore 4 days later. And as Tim stated, the American boys accounted for half the offense in the great victory. Oh, and if anyone finds themselves playing a pick up game of soccer in Athens, be warned. Apparently pulling your shirt over your head, sticking your arms out like wings while taking a victory lap and screaming GOOOOAAAAALLLLL after you score is "poor sportsmanship". Whatever.
Monday it was site seeing for Tim and Tom. We saw the parthenon and other ruins. Very impressive. Very large. Very old. And then Alex the Great took us off to the airport.
All in all, I have made several observations about Greece and Alex the Great Giannikoulis.
1. He will most certainly rule all of Athens shortly
2. Impossible to take a bad picture in Greece
3. Every single female between the ages of 19 and 40 knows of Alex the Great Giannikoulis.
4. Greek gyros may actually rival Chicago pizza for greatest food on Earth.
5. I will be headed back soon.
I now sit in Rome and Tim and Tom will head to Barcelona tonight. I will document Rome next. Until then.
Veni, vidi, I ate pizza
(Tim) Hello again. Tom and Tim are wrapping up their journey to the "eternal city" of Rome (sorry, Chicago, as of Friday you'll just be the Windy Area). My first impresion was that it may be more accurately described as the Eternally Childish city. When we first sought sustinence, we popped into some sandwich shops and they all had sanwiches with the crusts cut off and served drinks with bendy straws. The term "grownup" didn't come to mind. Also, everyone here rides scooters, something I think all kids would love to do. And I know I don't even need to mention the ice cream obsession.
This is the one city where we felt justified in being total tourists, and we learned a fair amount along the way. For example, when we were waiting in line for the Vatican Museums, there was a guide talking about Michealangelo, and we were of course listening in for free. Suckers. Speaking of suckers, if you find yourself wanting to feel like everything you've ever "accomplished" in your life is a joke and a waste of time, go check out some of ol' Mike's work. Hmm, dedicated much? I was looking at some sculpture that he did when he was 23, and all I could think about was my bar, and how some dude who died several hundred years ago has managed to strip me of every ounce of my foolish pride. And FYI, the secret's out on the Vatican. The line was longer than the one I put on Tom's forhead when I threw his mp3 player at him in an attempt to thwart his superhuman snoring. Anyway, I had to run home to get pants, as shorts are a no-no in the Vatican, so Tom held our place in line. When I got back, some lady was actually trying to get me to go to the back of the line. Unbeknownst to me, shrugging your shoulders with a blank stare while someone is slapping you on the arm is not universal for "I don't give a shit about what you're saying and it will be a cold day in hell before I leave this line." But she eventually gave up, and in we went. The highlight was surely this Sixteen Chapel thing. They don't even bother showing you the other 15. What was amazing was that after he painted the ceiling, years later he painted a crazy mural on the front wall. I can only imagine the kind of individual who knocks out the damn Sistine Chapel ceiling and decides it's not enough. I also enjoyed the "no cameras" signs, which globally translates to "cameras are fine as long as you don't mind slowing destroying one of man's greatest achievements while everyone around you thinks you're an asshole and the guards yell at you."
Other than having some lady yell at me in a foreign language, there were some interesting parts to the tour. The guide mentioned that Michealangelo and Raphael were rivals at the time the Sistine Chapel was being comissioned, and Raphael wanted Michealangelo to have it, thinking he would blow it. Oops. Talk about one of your all-time backfires. Apparently they didn't become allies until being recruited by Splinter to defeat Bebop and Rocksteady. We also learned that after he finished the Sistine Chapel, Michealangelo would go up to women and say "I don't know how to put this, but I'm kind of a big deal around here."
The Vatican Museums are allegedly the biggest collection in the world. After awhile it gets a little exhausting checking all of it out and not knowing anything about anything, but I was able to enjoy some of the sculptures of the gods, as I had the opportunity to clap my hands while chanting "Hercules! Hercules!" Other than that, Tim and Tom lacked the appropriate knowledge and appreciation for the wealth of history before them. Just like in every other city. That's not to say we couldn't appreciate it when we were equipped with the requisite information. Today we got a free tour (and to our sheer joy, our guide's name was Guido) of St. Peter's Basilica, which pretty much solidified the Napolean Complex of the ancient Romans, and we concluded our sightseeing with the Trevi Fountain, also a not small work of art. There is of course a tradition of throwing a coin over your head into the fountain, and much like the Blarney Stone, Tom would not be deprived of such an opportunity. So with his back to the water, coin in hand, in front of hundereds of people, Tom balks, stating, "I feel like a tool doing this." And to which I replied "That's because you ARE a tool doing this." But he eventually went through with it and, providing the legend is true, Tom will soon fall in love (with someone other than himself).
One of the other notable things about the Italians is their use of the word "Prego." I don't know what it means, as they seem to use it in many different scenarios. I've taken to responding with "Ragu" but have thus far only been met with odd looks. And since we're talking about odd, let's touch on the whole subway system here. For those not in the know, the term "clusterfuck" was conceived to describe it. People just push past in a mad dash for a seat for a 10 minute ride. One guy plowed past me and I was ready to tell him what I thought of his behavior, but after getting a good look at him, the only thing that came to mind was "mafioso," and better judgement once again prevailed as I thought better of it, doing exactly nothing.
So, now it's off to Spain, where I look foward to 8 days of Tom absolutely butchering the native language while truly believing he fits in. Thanks to everyone who commented, sorry I had to yell at you to get it done, but as we all can see, the squeaky wheel does get the oil.
This is the one city where we felt justified in being total tourists, and we learned a fair amount along the way. For example, when we were waiting in line for the Vatican Museums, there was a guide talking about Michealangelo, and we were of course listening in for free. Suckers. Speaking of suckers, if you find yourself wanting to feel like everything you've ever "accomplished" in your life is a joke and a waste of time, go check out some of ol' Mike's work. Hmm, dedicated much? I was looking at some sculpture that he did when he was 23, and all I could think about was my bar, and how some dude who died several hundred years ago has managed to strip me of every ounce of my foolish pride. And FYI, the secret's out on the Vatican. The line was longer than the one I put on Tom's forhead when I threw his mp3 player at him in an attempt to thwart his superhuman snoring. Anyway, I had to run home to get pants, as shorts are a no-no in the Vatican, so Tom held our place in line. When I got back, some lady was actually trying to get me to go to the back of the line. Unbeknownst to me, shrugging your shoulders with a blank stare while someone is slapping you on the arm is not universal for "I don't give a shit about what you're saying and it will be a cold day in hell before I leave this line." But she eventually gave up, and in we went. The highlight was surely this Sixteen Chapel thing. They don't even bother showing you the other 15. What was amazing was that after he painted the ceiling, years later he painted a crazy mural on the front wall. I can only imagine the kind of individual who knocks out the damn Sistine Chapel ceiling and decides it's not enough. I also enjoyed the "no cameras" signs, which globally translates to "cameras are fine as long as you don't mind slowing destroying one of man's greatest achievements while everyone around you thinks you're an asshole and the guards yell at you."
Other than having some lady yell at me in a foreign language, there were some interesting parts to the tour. The guide mentioned that Michealangelo and Raphael were rivals at the time the Sistine Chapel was being comissioned, and Raphael wanted Michealangelo to have it, thinking he would blow it. Oops. Talk about one of your all-time backfires. Apparently they didn't become allies until being recruited by Splinter to defeat Bebop and Rocksteady. We also learned that after he finished the Sistine Chapel, Michealangelo would go up to women and say "I don't know how to put this, but I'm kind of a big deal around here."
The Vatican Museums are allegedly the biggest collection in the world. After awhile it gets a little exhausting checking all of it out and not knowing anything about anything, but I was able to enjoy some of the sculptures of the gods, as I had the opportunity to clap my hands while chanting "Hercules! Hercules!" Other than that, Tim and Tom lacked the appropriate knowledge and appreciation for the wealth of history before them. Just like in every other city. That's not to say we couldn't appreciate it when we were equipped with the requisite information. Today we got a free tour (and to our sheer joy, our guide's name was Guido) of St. Peter's Basilica, which pretty much solidified the Napolean Complex of the ancient Romans, and we concluded our sightseeing with the Trevi Fountain, also a not small work of art. There is of course a tradition of throwing a coin over your head into the fountain, and much like the Blarney Stone, Tom would not be deprived of such an opportunity. So with his back to the water, coin in hand, in front of hundereds of people, Tom balks, stating, "I feel like a tool doing this." And to which I replied "That's because you ARE a tool doing this." But he eventually went through with it and, providing the legend is true, Tom will soon fall in love (with someone other than himself).
One of the other notable things about the Italians is their use of the word "Prego." I don't know what it means, as they seem to use it in many different scenarios. I've taken to responding with "Ragu" but have thus far only been met with odd looks. And since we're talking about odd, let's touch on the whole subway system here. For those not in the know, the term "clusterfuck" was conceived to describe it. People just push past in a mad dash for a seat for a 10 minute ride. One guy plowed past me and I was ready to tell him what I thought of his behavior, but after getting a good look at him, the only thing that came to mind was "mafioso," and better judgement once again prevailed as I thought better of it, doing exactly nothing.
So, now it's off to Spain, where I look foward to 8 days of Tom absolutely butchering the native language while truly believing he fits in. Thanks to everyone who commented, sorry I had to yell at you to get it done, but as we all can see, the squeaky wheel does get the oil.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
The Hostess With the Mostest
(Tim) First off, let me thank everyone for all the coments on the recent posts. Thanks, Pete. I know they weren't award-winning, but c'mon. At least leave a commment telling me just how dogshit it was and let me know how you'll never get that five minutes of your life back. Speaking of dogshit, the wild dog at the airport was only the beginning of the barrage of wild dogs we'd run into. Go up to the Acropolis, enjoy the view and the dogs laying about. Go throught the streets and check out the shops, food, and dogs at your feet. I got a few pictures with them, and I even posed next to one, but I knocked that off when I started thinking that these are homeless dogs, and they're alive. That must mean that they eat, and I didn't see anyone feed them. Therefore, I reasoned that they must kill their prey for survival. Their calm, deadlike demeanor was nothing but a ruse. But I was on to them. What's up now, dog.
We are now in Rome, thanks for asking. Greece was just what we expected and needed: awesome. I'd like to give a sincere thank you to Alex Giannikoulis for putting us up at the Chateau Alex and showing us an incredible Greek time. Host of the year much? We found Alex at the gate and headed back to the Palace. We got acclimated with our surroundings, mostly by telling Alex how swwet his place is, and headed out to eat, where Alex put in his best effort to be an integral part of the Quest for 250. He ordered for us and they brought out some bread, cheese, salad, fried zuccinni, and fries. Tonight we eat like kings! Then they brought out two plates of gyros. On snap, it's on. Apparently tonight we eat like kings named Henry VIII. Needless to say, upon completion of the meal, I thought I had finally pushed the boundaries of safe consumption and would die of over-eating. I couldn't wait to do it again. After that it was time to go home, rest up and head out for the evening. Alex took us to a bar on a hill with an outdoor area. With the Acropolis in the background. The term "impressive" comes to mind. I tried to buy the first round of drinks and the total was 14 euro. Being the perennial "big baller" I paid with a 100-euro bill. He said he didn't have change. After our bewilderment subsided, Tom paid with a 20. Ten minutes later, I ordered another round and handed him the same hundred. I felt like the monkey in the joke "got any bananas?....."
The following day Alex took us to his relatives' vineyard out away from the city. There we pulled mandarin oranges, some little pearish things, and lemons off the tree. The mandarin were so good that I may have single-handedly ruined their crop year. We could not, unfortunately, eat any grapes, but we did try some artichokes and checked out an olive tree. I plucked a branch and extended it to Tom, but he rejected it with suspicion in his eyes. We were then treated to an incredible home-cooked meal courtesy of Alex's family. Do I even need to say that it was delicious? One word: feta.
On Sunday we participated in what I deemed the highlight of the Greece trip. I'll give you a hint: it rhymes with bokker and I kicked ass at it. Tom will no doubt mesmorize you with fantastical tales of his five goals and natural ability. Sure, I only scored three, but not without explanantion. First, Tom played more offense than I did. Second, I'm a team player and the thought of passing the ball enters my head from time to time. And last and most important, Tom's a lucky bastard. But Tim and Tom did account for 50% of the team's offense, in a winning effort, and that's what counts. We all know it sure as HELL isn't how you "play the game."
After the game, we went home, met Alex's cousin Alex, his other cousin Alex, showered, and went out for some seafood. On the beach, of course. Duh, we're being hosted by Alex. We were lucky to have our first (and likely my last) taste of genuine ouzo. Evidently "ouzo" is Greek for "licorice-flavored petrol." Alex was a bit disappointed in our efforts in that area, and for that we sincerely apologize. But we did put in a strong (to quite strong) showing the previous two nights out on the town. So we went home to relax and do what all Greeks do on Sunday nights: watch American movies. Tom popped on Gladiator and mentioned how "fitting" it was that we were watching it in Greece. Based on several of his other comments thus far, I'd say it's absolutely fitting that Tom said that watching a movie in Athens about Romans was fitting. For Greek history and torn rotator cuffs, Tom's your man.
On Monday, it was time for Tim and Tom to do some sightseeing before the afternoon flight to Rome. We went to the Parthenon, but I can't remember the names of all the other clubs we went to. I'll say this: The Greeks knew a thing or two about buildings. They apparently, however, like every major city in Europe, knew exactly squat about planning navigable streets. But hey, you can't win 'em all. After that, it was time for the flight to Rome, where they subsist largely on sandwiches and pizza. Hello, heaven.
We are now in Rome, thanks for asking. Greece was just what we expected and needed: awesome. I'd like to give a sincere thank you to Alex Giannikoulis for putting us up at the Chateau Alex and showing us an incredible Greek time. Host of the year much? We found Alex at the gate and headed back to the Palace. We got acclimated with our surroundings, mostly by telling Alex how swwet his place is, and headed out to eat, where Alex put in his best effort to be an integral part of the Quest for 250. He ordered for us and they brought out some bread, cheese, salad, fried zuccinni, and fries. Tonight we eat like kings! Then they brought out two plates of gyros. On snap, it's on. Apparently tonight we eat like kings named Henry VIII. Needless to say, upon completion of the meal, I thought I had finally pushed the boundaries of safe consumption and would die of over-eating. I couldn't wait to do it again. After that it was time to go home, rest up and head out for the evening. Alex took us to a bar on a hill with an outdoor area. With the Acropolis in the background. The term "impressive" comes to mind. I tried to buy the first round of drinks and the total was 14 euro. Being the perennial "big baller" I paid with a 100-euro bill. He said he didn't have change. After our bewilderment subsided, Tom paid with a 20. Ten minutes later, I ordered another round and handed him the same hundred. I felt like the monkey in the joke "got any bananas?....."
The following day Alex took us to his relatives' vineyard out away from the city. There we pulled mandarin oranges, some little pearish things, and lemons off the tree. The mandarin were so good that I may have single-handedly ruined their crop year. We could not, unfortunately, eat any grapes, but we did try some artichokes and checked out an olive tree. I plucked a branch and extended it to Tom, but he rejected it with suspicion in his eyes. We were then treated to an incredible home-cooked meal courtesy of Alex's family. Do I even need to say that it was delicious? One word: feta.
On Sunday we participated in what I deemed the highlight of the Greece trip. I'll give you a hint: it rhymes with bokker and I kicked ass at it. Tom will no doubt mesmorize you with fantastical tales of his five goals and natural ability. Sure, I only scored three, but not without explanantion. First, Tom played more offense than I did. Second, I'm a team player and the thought of passing the ball enters my head from time to time. And last and most important, Tom's a lucky bastard. But Tim and Tom did account for 50% of the team's offense, in a winning effort, and that's what counts. We all know it sure as HELL isn't how you "play the game."
After the game, we went home, met Alex's cousin Alex, his other cousin Alex, showered, and went out for some seafood. On the beach, of course. Duh, we're being hosted by Alex. We were lucky to have our first (and likely my last) taste of genuine ouzo. Evidently "ouzo" is Greek for "licorice-flavored petrol." Alex was a bit disappointed in our efforts in that area, and for that we sincerely apologize. But we did put in a strong (to quite strong) showing the previous two nights out on the town. So we went home to relax and do what all Greeks do on Sunday nights: watch American movies. Tom popped on Gladiator and mentioned how "fitting" it was that we were watching it in Greece. Based on several of his other comments thus far, I'd say it's absolutely fitting that Tom said that watching a movie in Athens about Romans was fitting. For Greek history and torn rotator cuffs, Tom's your man.
On Monday, it was time for Tim and Tom to do some sightseeing before the afternoon flight to Rome. We went to the Parthenon, but I can't remember the names of all the other clubs we went to. I'll say this: The Greeks knew a thing or two about buildings. They apparently, however, like every major city in Europe, knew exactly squat about planning navigable streets. But hey, you can't win 'em all. After that, it was time for the flight to Rome, where they subsist largely on sandwiches and pizza. Hello, heaven.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
The Not Sofitel
(Tim) So, the Journey has reached Athens, Greece. We arrived the night before our host-to-be, one Alex Giannoukolis. He recommended we stay at the airport hotel Sofitel and pick him up at the gate to begin our Greek adventures. The distance between the gate and the baggage claim was aso absurdly far that I can only assume that we landed in Italy and took moving walkways under the water into Greece. So we walked across the street, past the roaming wild dog over to the Sofitel. Sorry, all we have left are business suites. But fear not, they're on sale! Sweet! For $400 US. Uh, no danke. A bit rich for our bodacious blood. So we headed back across the street, past the dog, and into the arrival center to talk to a travel agency. She said there is a hotel about ten minutes away and would cost about $100, and they offer a free shuttle to and from the airport. Sounded too good to be true, but it was 3am and our options were limited. And by "limited" I mean this was the only one. So we accepted and waited for our chariot to take us away. Some guy comes in and we walk outside, past the dog, and load up his unmarked minivan. We then proceed to blow down totally deserted roads with nothing but wilderness around us. If we hadn"t booked it with a travel agency in a real airport, I would have been rifling through my bag for something to defend myself with. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how far I'd get, seeing as I have no sharp objects, and the only thing with a trigger is my bottle of Febreeze (for those of you wondering, so far I've been able to resist the urge to walk up to a complete stranger, smell him, crinkle my nose, and blast him with Febreeze. The same cannot, however, be said about me spraying my own clothes while yelling "Out, damned spot! Out I say!"). We then reached some sort of civilization, which appeared to be destroyed by war. Out chauffer informs us that it is a new hotel. Yeah, as in "the bodies in the basement haven't decomposed." We then pulled up to the hotel, and it was by far the nicest place we"ve stayed. It was only in the morning that I discovered that new construction debris and bomb debris look the same in pitch black night. So we checked in, crashed for a few hours while being awoken every ten minutes by herds of barking dogs, and headed via free (and this time stress-free) shuttle back to the airport to greet our Athenian tour guide. Details to follow.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Which one's Trudi? The one with all the shit in her face?
(Tim) Hello again. We are waiting for our flight to Athens, so I've decided to kill some time and blog again. So I apologize if this is boring, it's just that not much has happened since yesterday. I also want to apologize for the paragraph structure on this page that I can't seem to figure out. When I double-space after sentences and indent for new paragraphs, it shows up in my window, but then publishes everything crammed together. Oh well, nothing an email to blogger.com won't fix. So for now, I'll just skip a line for a new paragraph, or more accurately, where I think there should be a new paragraph because I know squat about writing (see past blogs).
So Tim and Tom hit a bit of a wall today in Vienna. It was supposed to be our big sightseeing day, but it turned out to be our big sit-on-our-asses-and-do-jack-shit day. We started out with guns blazing per usual, and a few hours in I declared that I was over Austria. Tom concurred and we headed back to the hostel common room because we don't have a room for the night. We're staying at a really cool hostel called Wombats, like the animal. Don't know what a wombat is? Never fear, Tom to the rescue. Excerpt from the other day:
Tim, holding up the towel he bought with the wombats logo on it (hint: it' a wombat): Hey, this is a pretty cool towel."
Tom, dead serious: "What's that? A hippo?"
But anyway, it's a highly recommended hostel. By far the best on the Journey to date.
Back to the Austrians. I get the feeling that holdups here don't involve knives. Considering half the population has a bull ring, nose ring, lip ring, eyebrow ring, or all of the above, I feel they would be relatively unphased by a sharp object near their face. Better stick to guns. Just like every other time in life. Just an interesting observation that both of us have mentioned on several occasions. Not particularily interesting to those reading this, perhaps, but fortunately I don't care.
So I feel as though we didn't do Vienna justice. Sorry Vienna. Actually, I did go for a serious stroll around town while Tom retired to the nerdery to tie up some Med School loose ends. The old part of the city has a loop around it called the Ring. I took a stroll around it and found it quite pleasant. Hopefully I won't die in seven days. If I did, it so wouldn' be worth it. There are a million museums, none of which were conquered by Tim and Tom. That's just how cultured we are, kiddies. That's not to say we haven't enjoyed our stay here, however. Today on our walk we walked through a museum quad with lots of sun bathers and relaxers. Now keep in mind that the rest of the world has a more laid-back attitude toward things like alchol, for example. An open container policy allows for things like three girls playing a drinking game by throwing a crushed can at a row of empty cans and then pounding their 20-ounce beer before setting them up and doing it again. All of this in front of hundreds of people enjoying some sun in the park at noon on Thursday. Some things America just cannot provide.
So our travels in Vienna were rather passive, but we gave it the ol' college try. For now we're off to the airport and have done all we can. So long Vienna, and thanks for all the wurst.
So Tim and Tom hit a bit of a wall today in Vienna. It was supposed to be our big sightseeing day, but it turned out to be our big sit-on-our-asses-and-do-jack-shit day. We started out with guns blazing per usual, and a few hours in I declared that I was over Austria. Tom concurred and we headed back to the hostel common room because we don't have a room for the night. We're staying at a really cool hostel called Wombats, like the animal. Don't know what a wombat is? Never fear, Tom to the rescue. Excerpt from the other day:
Tim, holding up the towel he bought with the wombats logo on it (hint: it' a wombat): Hey, this is a pretty cool towel."
Tom, dead serious: "What's that? A hippo?"
But anyway, it's a highly recommended hostel. By far the best on the Journey to date.
Back to the Austrians. I get the feeling that holdups here don't involve knives. Considering half the population has a bull ring, nose ring, lip ring, eyebrow ring, or all of the above, I feel they would be relatively unphased by a sharp object near their face. Better stick to guns. Just like every other time in life. Just an interesting observation that both of us have mentioned on several occasions. Not particularily interesting to those reading this, perhaps, but fortunately I don't care.
So I feel as though we didn't do Vienna justice. Sorry Vienna. Actually, I did go for a serious stroll around town while Tom retired to the nerdery to tie up some Med School loose ends. The old part of the city has a loop around it called the Ring. I took a stroll around it and found it quite pleasant. Hopefully I won't die in seven days. If I did, it so wouldn' be worth it. There are a million museums, none of which were conquered by Tim and Tom. That's just how cultured we are, kiddies. That's not to say we haven't enjoyed our stay here, however. Today on our walk we walked through a museum quad with lots of sun bathers and relaxers. Now keep in mind that the rest of the world has a more laid-back attitude toward things like alchol, for example. An open container policy allows for things like three girls playing a drinking game by throwing a crushed can at a row of empty cans and then pounding their 20-ounce beer before setting them up and doing it again. All of this in front of hundreds of people enjoying some sun in the park at noon on Thursday. Some things America just cannot provide.
So our travels in Vienna were rather passive, but we gave it the ol' college try. For now we're off to the airport and have done all we can. So long Vienna, and thanks for all the wurst.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Road trip to Slovenia
(Tom) This is coming from Vienna, Austria. On Sunday, we hoped on a train from Budapest to Vienna. Spent part of Sunday walking around Vienna looking for a restaraunt we had heard about. It was called Centimeter. This is because you order their special bread by how many centimeters you want. So we get 10 centimeters each of this stuff and it was pretty awful. Then comes our main course. Apparently bread is by the centimeter and everything else is by the truck load. This guy brought me more food than I could eat in a week. Austrian food is good stuff though...lots of sausage, ham, bacon, etc. Very healthy. I think Im giving Tim a run in the quest for 250.
Monday morning we rent our little car and the plan is to head to Halstaat and then south to slovenia and maybe croatia. We walk out to the car, I sit down and say "Hey, this thing is stick...can you drive stick?" "Kind of," Tim says. Let's now fast forward to the next day somewhere in southern Austria at a truck stop parking lot, where Tim is going to show us what "Kind of" driving stick means. He starts the car(successfully). His task is to drive us about 100 feet from the restaraunt area to the gas pump. We pull out, stall. 30 more feet, stall. 10 feet away from the pump, stall, stall, stall, stall, stall, stall. His job was to get us 100 feet and he made it about 95 before stalling half a dozen times. Good stuff.
So anyway, we start our road trip to Hallstaat and make it onto the highway. There are signs stating 100 which I assume is the speed limit. Tim and I wonder if it's the limit, or minimum. I figure I'll stay at about 120km/hr until we get an idea. Then about 5 minutes into this trip, some sort of blur flies by us in the left lane. What the hell was that? I think it was a car! We then realized you could(and probably should) drive as fast as you want. I literally floored it the whole way. Our little Hyundai would do about 180 on any decline and 90 on any incline. So these Austrians driving on the road would see two Americans fly by them going downhill and then they'd cruise past us on an incline. Crazy Americans!
We pull into Hallstaat Monday afternoon and it was pretty impressive. High peaks around a lake that looks like glass. On the other side of the lake was a red train that would pass by every hour or so and the image looked like a toy train set. But as Tim pointed out, maybe a better place to take a lady friend. We go to a little market there and head straight to the meat and just go to town buying anything and everything that looks like it could clog an artery, along with an assortment of their finest brews. Head back to the place and cook.
Tuesday morning we get up and explore Hallstaat a bit. And if you had seen the 3 point turn I pulled on a towering cliff in these Austrian mountains, you would certainly agree that mario andretti ain't got nothing on me. On our way out of Hallstaat, Tim spots a narrow bridge that traverses a road and river. We head up to cross it. As we're up there, we meet two girls from Holland who are hiking for a week through the area. They ask us for directions. That was funny. Tim informs them that we often don't know what country we are in lately. So Tim and I head out over this thing. It's about 150 feet off the ground and narrow. Maybe 150 feet long too. Now Im not a huge fan of heights, but I can usually keep it together. Tim is ahead of me and has not yet noticed that as we get about a quarter way out, i have started to crouch down and hold both sides. He stops to take a picture and I yell
"DUDE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? KEEP GOING!" This is when Tim turns and sees me and busts out laughing. He takes a few pics and we continue walking slowly until I hear laughing behind me. The girls from Holland had now caught up and in their broken English state "Awww, that's so cute, are you afraid of the height...dont look downstairs" Tim turns to join in the fun and I plead that we all keep moving. In my own defense, I did better on the way back and even snapped a few pictures.
Then we head down to Slovenia that afternoon. Tim announces he's going to take a nap(that was part of him doing whatever the hell he wanted since he cant drive stick) and as the map navigator, tells me to stay on the current road til we hit Slovenia. We approach a fork in the road coming up and I state, Tim wake up, where do I go? Tim pulls out the map.
Timmy-Have we hit Tolenizzo yet?
Tom-That sign said it's just ahead
Timmy(while holding map up in front of his face)-Well then Slovenia should be right here.
Tom-(At that moment, we come around a bend and a HUGE overhead sign comes into view) DUDE, are you fricking kiddng me! That says Italia!
Timmy- Shit....no, wait, ok, we're good.
Apparenty the town we were headed toward is very near the Italian border, so we only took a minor detour through Italia. But crisis averted. We explore Bled, Slovenia which has a church on an island in the middle of a lake that looks just like a castle. Actually it's two famous sites are a church and a castle and excuse me for forgetting which was on the island.
Today we are back in Vienna, and head to Athens late tomorrow night. Get ready for bodaciousness Greece!
Monday morning we rent our little car and the plan is to head to Halstaat and then south to slovenia and maybe croatia. We walk out to the car, I sit down and say "Hey, this thing is stick...can you drive stick?" "Kind of," Tim says. Let's now fast forward to the next day somewhere in southern Austria at a truck stop parking lot, where Tim is going to show us what "Kind of" driving stick means. He starts the car(successfully). His task is to drive us about 100 feet from the restaraunt area to the gas pump. We pull out, stall. 30 more feet, stall. 10 feet away from the pump, stall, stall, stall, stall, stall, stall. His job was to get us 100 feet and he made it about 95 before stalling half a dozen times. Good stuff.
So anyway, we start our road trip to Hallstaat and make it onto the highway. There are signs stating 100 which I assume is the speed limit. Tim and I wonder if it's the limit, or minimum. I figure I'll stay at about 120km/hr until we get an idea. Then about 5 minutes into this trip, some sort of blur flies by us in the left lane. What the hell was that? I think it was a car! We then realized you could(and probably should) drive as fast as you want. I literally floored it the whole way. Our little Hyundai would do about 180 on any decline and 90 on any incline. So these Austrians driving on the road would see two Americans fly by them going downhill and then they'd cruise past us on an incline. Crazy Americans!
We pull into Hallstaat Monday afternoon and it was pretty impressive. High peaks around a lake that looks like glass. On the other side of the lake was a red train that would pass by every hour or so and the image looked like a toy train set. But as Tim pointed out, maybe a better place to take a lady friend. We go to a little market there and head straight to the meat and just go to town buying anything and everything that looks like it could clog an artery, along with an assortment of their finest brews. Head back to the place and cook.
Tuesday morning we get up and explore Hallstaat a bit. And if you had seen the 3 point turn I pulled on a towering cliff in these Austrian mountains, you would certainly agree that mario andretti ain't got nothing on me. On our way out of Hallstaat, Tim spots a narrow bridge that traverses a road and river. We head up to cross it. As we're up there, we meet two girls from Holland who are hiking for a week through the area. They ask us for directions. That was funny. Tim informs them that we often don't know what country we are in lately. So Tim and I head out over this thing. It's about 150 feet off the ground and narrow. Maybe 150 feet long too. Now Im not a huge fan of heights, but I can usually keep it together. Tim is ahead of me and has not yet noticed that as we get about a quarter way out, i have started to crouch down and hold both sides. He stops to take a picture and I yell
"DUDE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? KEEP GOING!" This is when Tim turns and sees me and busts out laughing. He takes a few pics and we continue walking slowly until I hear laughing behind me. The girls from Holland had now caught up and in their broken English state "Awww, that's so cute, are you afraid of the height...dont look downstairs" Tim turns to join in the fun and I plead that we all keep moving. In my own defense, I did better on the way back and even snapped a few pictures.
Then we head down to Slovenia that afternoon. Tim announces he's going to take a nap(that was part of him doing whatever the hell he wanted since he cant drive stick) and as the map navigator, tells me to stay on the current road til we hit Slovenia. We approach a fork in the road coming up and I state, Tim wake up, where do I go? Tim pulls out the map.
Timmy-Have we hit Tolenizzo yet?
Tom-That sign said it's just ahead
Timmy(while holding map up in front of his face)-Well then Slovenia should be right here.
Tom-(At that moment, we come around a bend and a HUGE overhead sign comes into view) DUDE, are you fricking kiddng me! That says Italia!
Timmy- Shit....no, wait, ok, we're good.
Apparenty the town we were headed toward is very near the Italian border, so we only took a minor detour through Italia. But crisis averted. We explore Bled, Slovenia which has a church on an island in the middle of a lake that looks just like a castle. Actually it's two famous sites are a church and a castle and excuse me for forgetting which was on the island.
Today we are back in Vienna, and head to Athens late tomorrow night. Get ready for bodaciousness Greece!
A wrong turn at Romaticquerque
(Tim) Well, here we sit back in Vienna. We rolled in on Sunday night, crashed, and headed for Hallstatt in the morning. We decided to rent a car for our countryside tour down to Hallstatt, Austria and Bled, Slovenia. That's right kids, another unplanned destination was added to the Journey. So we rented our Eurocar and hopped in ready for whatever the Austrians and Slovenians had in store for these seasoned travelers. Upon entering said auto, we noticed that it was a manual transmission, of which only one of us is capable of driving with any degree of safety. So, instead of "us" driving to these exotic locales, it would be Tom driving and Tim pretty much doing whatever the hell he wants. So, after Tom dropped the obligatory comparison to himself and Mario Andretti, we were off.
Hallstatt was recommended by some of Tom's family as well as travel guru Rick Steves. It was also in another travel book, so we arrived with several activities planned. One was to go into the salt mines that Hallstatt is famous for, and another was to take a day trip to the world's largest chain of ice caves. The views pulling into Hallstatt were quite amazing with the mountains and the little town right on the edge of an awesome lake. So we checked in to our B&B ready to conquer Hallstatt. By the way, our B&B owner wears lederhosen. After I got a good look at them, I had to have them. Except that they cost about $350. Though I'm not sure one can put a price on the experience of wearing lederhosen and knee-high socks on the plane back to Chicago, I took my chances hoping to find some reasonably priced pairs in Vienna. Anyway, on to the salt mines. Or not. Sorry, guys, the salt mines open for the seaon on Friday. No worries, we'll just head straight for the ice caves (which my travel manual points out are "near freezing temps, so dress warm." Wow, thanks for that invaluable piece of info, all-knowing travel experts.) and spend the day exploring. Uh, yeah, about those caves. They open in May. Hmm, no mines, no caves. At the risk of beating the proverbial dead horse on the romance references, I was now stuck on a beautiful lakefront B&B in a quaint little town. With Tom. But with our determination to bodaciousness fully intact, we made the adjusment and decided to go to the grocery store and cook ourselves some Austrian dinner. We bought sausages (one roughly the size of a baseball bat), some cheese, bacon, saukraut, and dumplings, and 10 single bottles of different beer for sampling. We cooked it all up, enjoyed a few new beers, and were summarily hit by a colossal food coma about ten minutes afterward. We were out for two hours like a kid slammed after 25 screaming laps around the living room on a sugar high. When we awoke around 8pm, we decided it was time for dessert, so Tom sought out to find us some ice cream, because obviously, everyone in town was walking around with the stuff. Tom returned empty-handed, as there were no stores in the town open for business at such a ridiculous hour. Hallstatt was proving indeed to be a tough nut to crack. We made the most of it by watching Desperate Housewives. In German. Almost every station had American shows with German voice-overs. I concluded the following: 1) There must be an entire society of voice-over actors because each American actor had a German counterpart who sounded just like them, and 2) German TV is like a never ending Kung Fu stream.
The next morning we agreed to head out of Hallstatt with hopes of maintaining some degree of masculinity. We took a trip up a mountain in The Little Eurocar That Could, and encountered some spectacular views. It was rather off the beaten path, which prompted Tom to proudly announce that "I bet Rick Steves has never been here." Which of course provided me with the opportunity once again to shout "I'm Rick Steves, bitch!" We pulled over to walk across a pipeline bridge high up over a ravine. It was narrow, so that one could easily put a hand on each rail. I know this because Tom accomplished this while he slowly crept out over the highway and utter fear cowered him into a crouch. There was a far better chance of me losing my footing and falling over the bridge as I was doubled over with laughter than us falling through the wood planks. So, this combined with some great pictures, Hallstatt totally redeemed itself.
After the mountain expedition, it was off to Slovenia. One of the highlights of this whole road journey was passing through towns like Bad Ischl and Bad Grossien, so from the passenger seat I could say "Bad Ischl! You're bad! You're naughty!" We did enjoy trying to figure out if the posted speeds were maximums or minimums. After driving 60 kms over the posted speed and be blown past like we were standing still several times, we decided that the A2 we were on stood for Autobahn 2, and Tom spent the entire trip with his foot to the floor. Besides, if we got pulled over we could just say we didn't know. Isn't ignorance always an excuse for the law?
In addition to American TV, we noticed Austrians love American music. As we pulled in to Bled, Slovenia, we were treated to a Culture Club mini-marathon. The locals were in turn treated to a Tim and Tom rendition of Karma Chameleon. Bled is known primarily for its views, so we climbed up to the castle (aptly dubbed Bled Castle) and looked over the turqoise colored lake and the tiny island with a church built into it. Tom added a sprinkle of interest to our navigational efforts by constantly referring to the church as the caslte. For a guy who's really into seeing churches, he sure could use a lesson on them. When we were in Budapest trying to find the caslte there, he thought the basillica was the caslte. Mind you, this church couldn't look anything more like a church. Picture a church; good, now you don't need to visit the one in Budapest. But Tom wasn't convinced until he read the sign in front. Then we tried to find the world's second biggest mosque, also located in Budapest. When I mentioned that it was in Buda, Tom looked down the street and said "is that it?" After I pointed out the many crosses and haloed statues on it, Tom, ever sharp as a marble: "Oh. Yeah, not a mosque."
On our way out of Austria and into Slovenia, we took a bit of a detour into Italy. As the mapmiester, I knew we weren't far off course, but Tom saw the sign reading "Italia" and flipped. "Tim! What the hell are you doing over there? We're in Italy! AHHHHHHH!" After I talked him off the ledge, we found our way to Slovenia. We stayed in Bled just long enough to take it all in and decided that it would be in our best interest to head back to Vienna for the night. More American music ensued, and the trip culminated as we pulled in to the city while belting out what I can only describe as the world's finest falsetto duet to "Like a Virgin."
Which brings us to today in Vienna. I am now the proud owner of a pea green tee shirt and grey dress shorts. Apparently in Vienna, when you put a bright yellow shirt and khaki shorts into the washer, out come pea green and grey. But it's a perfectly even color change, so it's kind of nice to feel like I got a new wardrobe. Look out, Austrians.
Hallstatt was recommended by some of Tom's family as well as travel guru Rick Steves. It was also in another travel book, so we arrived with several activities planned. One was to go into the salt mines that Hallstatt is famous for, and another was to take a day trip to the world's largest chain of ice caves. The views pulling into Hallstatt were quite amazing with the mountains and the little town right on the edge of an awesome lake. So we checked in to our B&B ready to conquer Hallstatt. By the way, our B&B owner wears lederhosen. After I got a good look at them, I had to have them. Except that they cost about $350. Though I'm not sure one can put a price on the experience of wearing lederhosen and knee-high socks on the plane back to Chicago, I took my chances hoping to find some reasonably priced pairs in Vienna. Anyway, on to the salt mines. Or not. Sorry, guys, the salt mines open for the seaon on Friday. No worries, we'll just head straight for the ice caves (which my travel manual points out are "near freezing temps, so dress warm." Wow, thanks for that invaluable piece of info, all-knowing travel experts.) and spend the day exploring. Uh, yeah, about those caves. They open in May. Hmm, no mines, no caves. At the risk of beating the proverbial dead horse on the romance references, I was now stuck on a beautiful lakefront B&B in a quaint little town. With Tom. But with our determination to bodaciousness fully intact, we made the adjusment and decided to go to the grocery store and cook ourselves some Austrian dinner. We bought sausages (one roughly the size of a baseball bat), some cheese, bacon, saukraut, and dumplings, and 10 single bottles of different beer for sampling. We cooked it all up, enjoyed a few new beers, and were summarily hit by a colossal food coma about ten minutes afterward. We were out for two hours like a kid slammed after 25 screaming laps around the living room on a sugar high. When we awoke around 8pm, we decided it was time for dessert, so Tom sought out to find us some ice cream, because obviously, everyone in town was walking around with the stuff. Tom returned empty-handed, as there were no stores in the town open for business at such a ridiculous hour. Hallstatt was proving indeed to be a tough nut to crack. We made the most of it by watching Desperate Housewives. In German. Almost every station had American shows with German voice-overs. I concluded the following: 1) There must be an entire society of voice-over actors because each American actor had a German counterpart who sounded just like them, and 2) German TV is like a never ending Kung Fu stream.
The next morning we agreed to head out of Hallstatt with hopes of maintaining some degree of masculinity. We took a trip up a mountain in The Little Eurocar That Could, and encountered some spectacular views. It was rather off the beaten path, which prompted Tom to proudly announce that "I bet Rick Steves has never been here." Which of course provided me with the opportunity once again to shout "I'm Rick Steves, bitch!" We pulled over to walk across a pipeline bridge high up over a ravine. It was narrow, so that one could easily put a hand on each rail. I know this because Tom accomplished this while he slowly crept out over the highway and utter fear cowered him into a crouch. There was a far better chance of me losing my footing and falling over the bridge as I was doubled over with laughter than us falling through the wood planks. So, this combined with some great pictures, Hallstatt totally redeemed itself.
After the mountain expedition, it was off to Slovenia. One of the highlights of this whole road journey was passing through towns like Bad Ischl and Bad Grossien, so from the passenger seat I could say "Bad Ischl! You're bad! You're naughty!" We did enjoy trying to figure out if the posted speeds were maximums or minimums. After driving 60 kms over the posted speed and be blown past like we were standing still several times, we decided that the A2 we were on stood for Autobahn 2, and Tom spent the entire trip with his foot to the floor. Besides, if we got pulled over we could just say we didn't know. Isn't ignorance always an excuse for the law?
In addition to American TV, we noticed Austrians love American music. As we pulled in to Bled, Slovenia, we were treated to a Culture Club mini-marathon. The locals were in turn treated to a Tim and Tom rendition of Karma Chameleon. Bled is known primarily for its views, so we climbed up to the castle (aptly dubbed Bled Castle) and looked over the turqoise colored lake and the tiny island with a church built into it. Tom added a sprinkle of interest to our navigational efforts by constantly referring to the church as the caslte. For a guy who's really into seeing churches, he sure could use a lesson on them. When we were in Budapest trying to find the caslte there, he thought the basillica was the caslte. Mind you, this church couldn't look anything more like a church. Picture a church; good, now you don't need to visit the one in Budapest. But Tom wasn't convinced until he read the sign in front. Then we tried to find the world's second biggest mosque, also located in Budapest. When I mentioned that it was in Buda, Tom looked down the street and said "is that it?" After I pointed out the many crosses and haloed statues on it, Tom, ever sharp as a marble: "Oh. Yeah, not a mosque."
On our way out of Austria and into Slovenia, we took a bit of a detour into Italy. As the mapmiester, I knew we weren't far off course, but Tom saw the sign reading "Italia" and flipped. "Tim! What the hell are you doing over there? We're in Italy! AHHHHHHH!" After I talked him off the ledge, we found our way to Slovenia. We stayed in Bled just long enough to take it all in and decided that it would be in our best interest to head back to Vienna for the night. More American music ensued, and the trip culminated as we pulled in to the city while belting out what I can only describe as the world's finest falsetto duet to "Like a Virgin."
Which brings us to today in Vienna. I am now the proud owner of a pea green tee shirt and grey dress shorts. Apparently in Vienna, when you put a bright yellow shirt and khaki shorts into the washer, out come pea green and grey. But it's a perfectly even color change, so it's kind of nice to feel like I got a new wardrobe. Look out, Austrians.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
pics, belgium and prague
1. The canals in Brugge, Belgium
2. The Grand Place sqaure in Brussels, Belgium
3. Brussels
4. Tim in Brussels
5. Tim in Saint Vitus Cathedral in Prague. Funny guy that tim.
pics, france and Belgium
1. The cliffs of Dover, England on the ferry from Dover to Callais, France2. Timmyboy on the go in Lille, France.
3. The bell tower we climbed 366 steps to ascend in Brugge, Belgium.
4. Tom with Apu's little girl in Brugge. Later I would work that counter and register. Business was booming.ű
5. Drunk Tom and Apu. Wow, do I always look that good after a few beers?
pics
1. A cliff on the Dingle Penninsula2. We're lost. This was actually at the top of the hill on our bike ride when Tim and Tom thought they might not make it.
3,4,5. Always a good day for a Guiness in Ireland.
Some proof we're actually here
1. The start of Tim and Tom's bodacious journey at Tom's apartment in manhattan
2. Tom in the best room in Blarney castle
3. Tom kissing blarney stone
4. Tim enjoying Dingle
5. Tim enjoying the view in Ireland
More English Speakers
(Tim) Well, the Journey is preparing to pull out of Budapest. Tim and Tom spent two more nights out on the town. After calculating my estimated calorie consumption, I am beginning to feel that a more appropriate title for this blog may be "The Quest for 250." Our first night here we went to an authentic Hungarian restaurant and I enjoyed some schnitzel, which is evidently Hungarian for "deep fried goodness." We have enjoyed continued success with tasty beer here as well. Only in France did I nearly vomit with every sip. But even then, that did't slow us down. You gotta want it, friends.
The past two nights we actually ended up at the same bar. Two nights ago we first went to a big outdoor festival called Zold Pardon. We were there all of three minutes before we realized that few, if any of the several thousand people there were over the age of 17. Lots of cokes in hand. The "Let's Go: Europe" book that I have suggested it in their nightlife section. Relevant information like "if you've hit puberty, you're in the minority" would have been nice. But not to be debodaciousized, we had secondary locations at the ready. So after confirming that this place is dead anyway with Tom, we, as they say in America, "bounced." After asking about 4 people who had no idea what the hell we were saying, we found a bouncer that spoke some well English. He said that we might want to try the place next door called Rio. I asked if there would be adults present and he said yes, but perhaps many gypsies. I asked what gypsies were and he said "like Latino." So I screamed "RACIST!" at him, thanked him for his help, and went into Rio. It was also a huge outdoor place that had about five bars. When we arrived, there were maybe 30-40 people scattered about. Within the next 90 minutes, there we literally over 1,000 people packed in everywhere. I must point out that Hungarians hate urinals. The bathrooms at these bars had about 15 stalls. So there are a million people coming in and out of there and I walk in and there are 15 empty urinals. No lines, no waiting. Pretty sweet situation for a man comfortable with his sexuality. Tom used the stalls.
We actually had a lot of fun there because we met a big group of Austalians and talked to them most of the night. Our conversation was sparked when one of them was taking a picture of a guy leaning over the bar showing the world his huge, grotesque plumber's crack. We joined in the pointing and laughing only to find out that he was with the group as well. They mentioned how they couldn't wait to show him and everyone else the pics in the morning. Ah, ridicule. The global language. In our hostel we also met three college kids from America who are studying in Ireland and taking a vacation right now. They mentioned that they couldn't find anywhere to go the previous night, and we told them of our adventures at Rio and Zold Pardon. The bodaciousness of Tim and Tom was instantly conveyed, and they went out with us last night. Overall, good kids. One kid asked us if we feel old because we don't look old. It was kind of a funny thing to say, because due to the number of people at least six years younger than us that we've come across, we definitely do feel old. But since he mentioned that we don't look old, I labeled him a good egg. They're on their way to Vienna today as well, so maybe we'll run into them again.
The romance had waned a bit in the past few days, so Tom made sure we stopped at Budapest's biggest park to sit down in the grass and do some journal writing together. Back on track. Budapest has some nice sights, but seeing Prague right before kind of lays a smackdown on it. But we have enjoyed Hungary and that's all that counts. Oh, and the ice cream here is damn good.
Special note to Papa O'Hagan: You've got a future in blog commentary, sir.
The past two nights we actually ended up at the same bar. Two nights ago we first went to a big outdoor festival called Zold Pardon. We were there all of three minutes before we realized that few, if any of the several thousand people there were over the age of 17. Lots of cokes in hand. The "Let's Go: Europe" book that I have suggested it in their nightlife section. Relevant information like "if you've hit puberty, you're in the minority" would have been nice. But not to be debodaciousized, we had secondary locations at the ready. So after confirming that this place is dead anyway with Tom, we, as they say in America, "bounced." After asking about 4 people who had no idea what the hell we were saying, we found a bouncer that spoke some well English. He said that we might want to try the place next door called Rio. I asked if there would be adults present and he said yes, but perhaps many gypsies. I asked what gypsies were and he said "like Latino." So I screamed "RACIST!" at him, thanked him for his help, and went into Rio. It was also a huge outdoor place that had about five bars. When we arrived, there were maybe 30-40 people scattered about. Within the next 90 minutes, there we literally over 1,000 people packed in everywhere. I must point out that Hungarians hate urinals. The bathrooms at these bars had about 15 stalls. So there are a million people coming in and out of there and I walk in and there are 15 empty urinals. No lines, no waiting. Pretty sweet situation for a man comfortable with his sexuality. Tom used the stalls.
We actually had a lot of fun there because we met a big group of Austalians and talked to them most of the night. Our conversation was sparked when one of them was taking a picture of a guy leaning over the bar showing the world his huge, grotesque plumber's crack. We joined in the pointing and laughing only to find out that he was with the group as well. They mentioned how they couldn't wait to show him and everyone else the pics in the morning. Ah, ridicule. The global language. In our hostel we also met three college kids from America who are studying in Ireland and taking a vacation right now. They mentioned that they couldn't find anywhere to go the previous night, and we told them of our adventures at Rio and Zold Pardon. The bodaciousness of Tim and Tom was instantly conveyed, and they went out with us last night. Overall, good kids. One kid asked us if we feel old because we don't look old. It was kind of a funny thing to say, because due to the number of people at least six years younger than us that we've come across, we definitely do feel old. But since he mentioned that we don't look old, I labeled him a good egg. They're on their way to Vienna today as well, so maybe we'll run into them again.
The romance had waned a bit in the past few days, so Tom made sure we stopped at Budapest's biggest park to sit down in the grass and do some journal writing together. Back on track. Budapest has some nice sights, but seeing Prague right before kind of lays a smackdown on it. But we have enjoyed Hungary and that's all that counts. Oh, and the ice cream here is damn good.
Special note to Papa O'Hagan: You've got a future in blog commentary, sir.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Buda or Pest
(Tom) So Tim has summed up the ladies of the night fairly well. They are everywhere. So let me tell you about Tim and Tom's bodacious train ride. By the way, the majority of our travel decisions are made at the train station when we just start throwing out cities to the person behind the window and they shoot back with times and prices. Then we yell SOLD when we hear one we like. So, while in Prague we find an overnight 9 hour train to Budapest. We get on at 11pm and secure a sleeper cabin. I should mention that we were about to get on a train to Moscow by mistake, but Tim and Tom are too smart for that and all was good. So we meet Martin after finding our little cabin. He is in charge of our car. Maybe the nicest guy I've ever met. Pretty much tells us anything we need, just let him know. So train pulls out, and Tim and I realize you can lower the window and stick your head out. I believe it was quite obvious to everyone on the train that this was all new to Tim and Tom. Eventually we went to sleep and locked our compartment as Martin warned us of the thieves.
So then at 4am, we here BANG BANG BANG....passaportes!!!! passaportes!!! and there are flashlights waving through our cabin. I nearly pissed myself. Apparently passport control checks passports a couple times per night and they have no interest in politely waking anyone up.
We pull into budapest around 730am. We leave the station and see these 3 Canadian girls we recognized from the train station in prague. Tim and Tom then quickly conversed....we have no place to stay yet, they look like they know what they're doing, let's ask them. So I say, hey we know you, yadda yadda yadda, where are you guys staying. They tell us of this great hostel they are going to. We share our map to figure out where it is. Then they act like we'd slow them down or something and start to pull away from us. Sadly for them, they know not the navigational skills of Tim and Tom, nor do they know how we conquer cities on this bodacious journey. I assess the map again, Tim checks the direction of the wind and knowing that it always blows north from the Adriatic Sea in the morning, we immediately have our bearings and head straight towards this hostel. We check in, clean up, and on our way out(45minutes later) we sit down on a bench outside just down from the hostel to formulate a game plan. Up walks the Canadians who doubted us. I stand up and announce...THAT. JUST. HAPPENED! And then Tim starts dancing around them while repeating "Shake and bake, Shake and bake" That's what happens when people doubt the bodaciousness of Tim and Tom's adventure.
So then we head out from Pest to Buda. We stroll across the Danube to Buda, then older section of the city to check out the Buda Castle and palace. Not that impressive. Then we look for this underground labyrinth we had hear about. It was pretty cool in and of itself. 1200 meters of underground caverns that at some points are 16 meters deep into the ground. But for some reason, they had decorated it with recreations of old paintings and stuff. They went a little overboard, but the caverns were cool.
Then we had a nice night on the town. We are now trying to figure out where our trip is heading. We are in an internet cafe with a guy originally from Seattle who moved here in '98 and opened a bike shop and internet cafe. He's helping us with the next stages of the journey. We may take a train to Vienna, then rent a car and drive to Halstaat Austria, then to Ljubjana, Slovenia and then check out the Croatian coast. But it's in the works. We'll keep you posted.
Until next time...
So then at 4am, we here BANG BANG BANG....passaportes!!!! passaportes!!! and there are flashlights waving through our cabin. I nearly pissed myself. Apparently passport control checks passports a couple times per night and they have no interest in politely waking anyone up.
We pull into budapest around 730am. We leave the station and see these 3 Canadian girls we recognized from the train station in prague. Tim and Tom then quickly conversed....we have no place to stay yet, they look like they know what they're doing, let's ask them. So I say, hey we know you, yadda yadda yadda, where are you guys staying. They tell us of this great hostel they are going to. We share our map to figure out where it is. Then they act like we'd slow them down or something and start to pull away from us. Sadly for them, they know not the navigational skills of Tim and Tom, nor do they know how we conquer cities on this bodacious journey. I assess the map again, Tim checks the direction of the wind and knowing that it always blows north from the Adriatic Sea in the morning, we immediately have our bearings and head straight towards this hostel. We check in, clean up, and on our way out(45minutes later) we sit down on a bench outside just down from the hostel to formulate a game plan. Up walks the Canadians who doubted us. I stand up and announce...THAT. JUST. HAPPENED! And then Tim starts dancing around them while repeating "Shake and bake, Shake and bake" That's what happens when people doubt the bodaciousness of Tim and Tom's adventure.
So then we head out from Pest to Buda. We stroll across the Danube to Buda, then older section of the city to check out the Buda Castle and palace. Not that impressive. Then we look for this underground labyrinth we had hear about. It was pretty cool in and of itself. 1200 meters of underground caverns that at some points are 16 meters deep into the ground. But for some reason, they had decorated it with recreations of old paintings and stuff. They went a little overboard, but the caverns were cool.
Then we had a nice night on the town. We are now trying to figure out where our trip is heading. We are in an internet cafe with a guy originally from Seattle who moved here in '98 and opened a bike shop and internet cafe. He's helping us with the next stages of the journey. We may take a train to Vienna, then rent a car and drive to Halstaat Austria, then to Ljubjana, Slovenia and then check out the Croatian coast. But it's in the works. We'll keep you posted.
Until next time...
Hungary Hungary Hookers
(Tim) So here we sit in Budapest. And I ask: Europe- Are we finished with the hookers and ice cream? Seriously, did ice cream just cross the Atlantic? When we were in Kinsale, Ireland, we noticed all the locals crushing soft serve ice cream, so we figured this is what Kinsalians do. Little did we know that this obsession is not unique to Kinsale. Or Ireland. The whole of Europe is batshit crazy about this stuff. Every city we've been to (by the way, I don't recommend the ice cream in Amsterdam- too creamy, not enough icy) has droves of citizens lining up for it. It's not even that hot out. I really don't get it, and I'd demand answers if any locals spoke English. Sidebar: As I write this, there is some sort of filming going on outside in the street. There is one guy with a handheld camera taping a woman in a black skirt, black hat, black heels, black stockings, red shirt, and white gloves walking down the street. And she looks almost as smooth as I imagine I would in heels. And no, I've never worn heels. There is video evidence of me in a dress, yes, but no heels. But back to the Journey. As for the hookers, it's like once you've been to Amsterdam, they've tagged you any follow you everywhere. I don't recall seeing any before. Sidebar, cont'd: This woman could win an award for Most Uptight and Self-conscious walker. So we're at a bar in Prague and some woman chats up Tom and within 2 minutes, mentions that she can be had for a price. Ah, just when Tom was starting to feel noticed in the world, his hopes are dashed by a hooker. Then as we are attempting to walk back to the hostel, some girl starts offering services flat out. She is not deterred by our initial rejections, and moves on to actually grabbing at Tom, presumably to offer services in body language rather than spoken word. It was starting to get ridiculous, so I had no choice but to summon my best "How 'bout my foot in yo' ass?" look to send the beast away. Hooker, be gone! And the saga continues here in Budapest. Last night, as with all days and nights on the Journey, wewalked back and forth down the same street as we failed to locate the place we were looking for. There is a scantily clad woman just standing in the middle of the street (no cars allowed on this street- she's in no danger) whispering to passersby. Maybe she was just lost. Then as we continue on, two women sitting on a bench ask us if we know any good bars around. We say no, and keep walking. As we head back the way we came, here they come, and shockingly, they have found a place to go! What luck! So, of course they start walking with us. They ask us where we're from and I, ever the gentleman, reciprocate the question. The answer: here. Hmm, and you are asking, in English, where to find a good bar ("Jerusalem toodle-oo-poosey, poosley-loo? What? What? Oh, you don't know shit about flowers."). However, these hookers were easier to lose. Shake n' bake, Shake n' bake.
Though Europe is teeming with ice cream and hookers, we haven't found a correlation between the two. Maybe they aren't allowed to eat ice cream on the job. Or, maybe they accept large quantities of ice cream as payment. We'll keep you abreast of any significant discoveries. Anyway, Budapest is the combined cities of (oddly) Buda and Pest, which are divided by the Danube River. Yesterday we explored Buda, today, Pest. I'll sum it all up in the next blog. Bye bye.
p.s. For those of you wondering about the title, it was a play on "Hungry hungry hippos." For those of you who figured it out and weren't wondering: What do you want, a cookie?
Though Europe is teeming with ice cream and hookers, we haven't found a correlation between the two. Maybe they aren't allowed to eat ice cream on the job. Or, maybe they accept large quantities of ice cream as payment. We'll keep you abreast of any significant discoveries. Anyway, Budapest is the combined cities of (oddly) Buda and Pest, which are divided by the Danube River. Yesterday we explored Buda, today, Pest. I'll sum it all up in the next blog. Bye bye.
p.s. For those of you wondering about the title, it was a play on "Hungry hungry hippos." For those of you who figured it out and weren't wondering: What do you want, a cookie?
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Planes, trains, and a bomb scare
(Tom) Alright, after Brugge, we headed to Brussels. We had mussels in Grand Place, which is a really big square in the middle of Brussels. Tim enlightened me half a dozen times that Victor Hugo called it the most beautiful square in the world. We made it an early night, nothing too exciting. So then Tuesday morning we decided to fly to Prague because it was cheaper than the train.
My version of the bomb scare:
We land in Prague and get our bags from baggage claim. I grab mine and as Tim grabs his, I see his face turn white and he says ohagan, feel this! I feel his travel bag and it is vibrating and humming. I ask, do you have anything that hums? What the hell did you buy in Amsterdam Tim? So he's super serious and insists that he doesn't have anything that hums or vibrates, then he starts looking around for security or something. Totally unrelated, I back away quickly to look for directions to downtown Prague. It just so happened that I decided to look for said directions behind a pillar that was fifty feet thick if it was an inch and could withstand any blast! No sense in us both going down! But in the end it was only an "electric razor" aka crazy erotic toy from amsterdam.
We then make our way to downtown Prague. I'll talk about this place more in the next blog. But I will comment that a concert by the czech philharmonic symphony orchestra would be a culturally stimulating event! And last night I ate the greatest food of my life! But more on that later, I can't type anymore! Oh yeah, Tim has no credit card as yesterday, for the second time on Tim and Tom's bodacious journey, Tim mistook his credit card for his atm card and the atm ate it. That was one of those, wow I want to laugh, but Tim may kill me if I do, moments. Oh, and I bought a nice pair of Euro jeans in Prague. Why would I do that you ask. Let me tell you. Because on day 3 of this trip, the zipper on my ONE pair of jeans breaks. Never in my life have I been completely dependent on one pair of pants until now and the zipper breaks. I had been holding it together with a safety pin which kept breaking, leaving me with my fly wide open. Which by the way is hilarious when it happens while walking around the red light district in Amsterdam. But problem solved, and Tim and Tom's bodacious journey can continue with all flies zipped!
Alright, Timmy and Tom are off to an overnight train to budapest! So long for now my friends.
My version of the bomb scare:
We land in Prague and get our bags from baggage claim. I grab mine and as Tim grabs his, I see his face turn white and he says ohagan, feel this! I feel his travel bag and it is vibrating and humming. I ask, do you have anything that hums? What the hell did you buy in Amsterdam Tim? So he's super serious and insists that he doesn't have anything that hums or vibrates, then he starts looking around for security or something. Totally unrelated, I back away quickly to look for directions to downtown Prague. It just so happened that I decided to look for said directions behind a pillar that was fifty feet thick if it was an inch and could withstand any blast! No sense in us both going down! But in the end it was only an "electric razor" aka crazy erotic toy from amsterdam.
We then make our way to downtown Prague. I'll talk about this place more in the next blog. But I will comment that a concert by the czech philharmonic symphony orchestra would be a culturally stimulating event! And last night I ate the greatest food of my life! But more on that later, I can't type anymore! Oh yeah, Tim has no credit card as yesterday, for the second time on Tim and Tom's bodacious journey, Tim mistook his credit card for his atm card and the atm ate it. That was one of those, wow I want to laugh, but Tim may kill me if I do, moments. Oh, and I bought a nice pair of Euro jeans in Prague. Why would I do that you ask. Let me tell you. Because on day 3 of this trip, the zipper on my ONE pair of jeans breaks. Never in my life have I been completely dependent on one pair of pants until now and the zipper breaks. I had been holding it together with a safety pin which kept breaking, leaving me with my fly wide open. Which by the way is hilarious when it happens while walking around the red light district in Amsterdam. But problem solved, and Tim and Tom's bodacious journey can continue with all flies zipped!
Alright, Timmy and Tom are off to an overnight train to budapest! So long for now my friends.
Not exactly a "you go, we go" kind of guy, part deux
(Tim) Well, the journey is wrapping up its Prague portion. Last I left you we were done with the dreamy Bruges trip. Did I forget to mention that we even stopped to watch some swans frolic near the river? On a related note, I'm starting to have suspicions about my travel companion. The Bruges deal was fine by itself, but yesterday as we strolled through Prague, we came upon a building and wondered what it was, so we went in for a closer look. It turned out to be a concert hall. So as I'm ready to move along, a poster for the Czech Philharmonic catches Tom's eye. Tom then has to talk to the ticket lady for the next ten minutes to see if they are playing the following night. Really Tom? This trip needs a date to the symphony? Do I have a gondola ride to look forward to in Venice? Perhaps a mariachi band during dinner in Seville? Only time will tell. I'll be sure to cross my fingers. And toes.
Anyway, we kind of blew through Brussels, and I think we're no worse for the wear. We did sample the mussels, of which Brussels is allegedly known for. I wasn't real impressed, but now I can say I did it. Not something that was on the checklist of life, but hey, either was watching swans with another man. We did run into our first, and as of yet only, Euroasshole in Brussels. The guy working at the desk could not be bothered to do his job. I was ready to tell him what I thought, but I remembered that I used my credit card to pay, and feared his wrath. Eurodicks 1, Tim 0.
After spending just one day in Brussels, the following morning we packed our things, mentally told the front desk guy to go to hell, and boarded a plane to Prague. It was a short trip and our bage came out right away. Upon grabbing my bag, I noticed it was buzzing. I looked at Tom and told him to feel it and mentioned that I cannot figure out what it is. So I proceed to open the bag and find that it's my electric razor that I forgot I had. I look up and say Don't worry Tom, it's jus-" Hmm, Tom? Oh there he is. About thirty yards away. I could just make out his face. As he peeked around the giant pillar he was hiding behind. Thanks, man. As a doctor who's taken physics and chemistry, even an actual bomb-making class, he has faith that somehow he'll be saved from the blast by the pillar. Headline: "Bomb in Prague airport kills everyone within a thousand yards, except guy behind pillar." This logic brought to mind Tom's solution had he been aboard the Titanic: simply jump onto the iceberg.
So, we have really enjoyed Prague. We attempted to go see Karlstejn castle today, per Kit's suggestion, but ended up walking all the way up a residential mountain to find nothing. Perhaps the problem lie in the fact that we didn't have any idea what Karlstejn was. Kit's picture showed a castle, but we weren't sure that if the name of the town was Karlstejn or what. We got to the train station near the place and asked some locals, who spoke no English; "Karlstejn?" Somehow, laughter ensued. As we walked away, we began to think that maybe we were in Karlstejn and ad just pulled the equivalent of walking into the Sears Tower and asking "Chicago? Chicago?" So we meandered up the damn mountain to find nothing, and then walked back down to return to the heart of Prague. Only then did I decide to consult our travel book to find directions on what Karlsejn is and how to get there. Why look at it before? That makes no sense. In summary, I hope that Karlstejn castle is a big disappointment, so I don't feel so stupid for missing it.
Sidebar: I just read Tom's version of the bomb scare. I think we all know what an incredible tall-tale teller Tom is when it comes to telling stories. So, I have no concern that anyone will take his version seriously. The chickens is comin' home to roost, y'all.
That's about it for now, I think. Prague was more of a sightseeing trip for us, so our pictures will likely tell the real story. We did experience some Prague nightlife for the past two nights, and are paying for it today. The beer here is quite tasty. Pilsner Urquell is the beer of pride, but I prefer the Krusovice, which is the cheapest beer in town. It's nice when things like that happen. They do however pour their beer like a bunch of clowns. Pouring from the rafters would not produce any more head. At dinner two nights ago the waiter brought out beers with glasses and proceeded to pour it directly into the middle of the glass from a good foot above it. Ten minutes later, we were enjoying our beers once the sea of foam had diminished. But they do it on purpose, so there must be a good reason. Last night we also had our best meal yet. It was basically a stir fry with various meats, cheeses, and onions. I know things about onions, and these were real, and they were spectacular. Well, we must be off to our first overnight train en route to Budapest. It actually continues on to Bucharest, so based on these blogs, you can be sure there's a good chance I'll be writing about life in Romania. Again, thanks to those of you who have posted comments. They are as entertaining to read as this blog is to write.
Anyway, we kind of blew through Brussels, and I think we're no worse for the wear. We did sample the mussels, of which Brussels is allegedly known for. I wasn't real impressed, but now I can say I did it. Not something that was on the checklist of life, but hey, either was watching swans with another man. We did run into our first, and as of yet only, Euroasshole in Brussels. The guy working at the desk could not be bothered to do his job. I was ready to tell him what I thought, but I remembered that I used my credit card to pay, and feared his wrath. Eurodicks 1, Tim 0.
After spending just one day in Brussels, the following morning we packed our things, mentally told the front desk guy to go to hell, and boarded a plane to Prague. It was a short trip and our bage came out right away. Upon grabbing my bag, I noticed it was buzzing. I looked at Tom and told him to feel it and mentioned that I cannot figure out what it is. So I proceed to open the bag and find that it's my electric razor that I forgot I had. I look up and say Don't worry Tom, it's jus-" Hmm, Tom? Oh there he is. About thirty yards away. I could just make out his face. As he peeked around the giant pillar he was hiding behind. Thanks, man. As a doctor who's taken physics and chemistry, even an actual bomb-making class, he has faith that somehow he'll be saved from the blast by the pillar. Headline: "Bomb in Prague airport kills everyone within a thousand yards, except guy behind pillar." This logic brought to mind Tom's solution had he been aboard the Titanic: simply jump onto the iceberg.
So, we have really enjoyed Prague. We attempted to go see Karlstejn castle today, per Kit's suggestion, but ended up walking all the way up a residential mountain to find nothing. Perhaps the problem lie in the fact that we didn't have any idea what Karlstejn was. Kit's picture showed a castle, but we weren't sure that if the name of the town was Karlstejn or what. We got to the train station near the place and asked some locals, who spoke no English; "Karlstejn?" Somehow, laughter ensued. As we walked away, we began to think that maybe we were in Karlstejn and ad just pulled the equivalent of walking into the Sears Tower and asking "Chicago? Chicago?" So we meandered up the damn mountain to find nothing, and then walked back down to return to the heart of Prague. Only then did I decide to consult our travel book to find directions on what Karlsejn is and how to get there. Why look at it before? That makes no sense. In summary, I hope that Karlstejn castle is a big disappointment, so I don't feel so stupid for missing it.
Sidebar: I just read Tom's version of the bomb scare. I think we all know what an incredible tall-tale teller Tom is when it comes to telling stories. So, I have no concern that anyone will take his version seriously. The chickens is comin' home to roost, y'all.
That's about it for now, I think. Prague was more of a sightseeing trip for us, so our pictures will likely tell the real story. We did experience some Prague nightlife for the past two nights, and are paying for it today. The beer here is quite tasty. Pilsner Urquell is the beer of pride, but I prefer the Krusovice, which is the cheapest beer in town. It's nice when things like that happen. They do however pour their beer like a bunch of clowns. Pouring from the rafters would not produce any more head. At dinner two nights ago the waiter brought out beers with glasses and proceeded to pour it directly into the middle of the glass from a good foot above it. Ten minutes later, we were enjoying our beers once the sea of foam had diminished. But they do it on purpose, so there must be a good reason. Last night we also had our best meal yet. It was basically a stir fry with various meats, cheeses, and onions. I know things about onions, and these were real, and they were spectacular. Well, we must be off to our first overnight train en route to Budapest. It actually continues on to Bucharest, so based on these blogs, you can be sure there's a good chance I'll be writing about life in Romania. Again, thanks to those of you who have posted comments. They are as entertaining to read as this blog is to write.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Bikes and Romance
(Tim) So Tim and Tom took a quick detour into France. We arrived in Calais where we figured we'd just make the most of it. So we meandered down the min street and realized that it was 5pm and there may as well have been tumbleweeds blowing down the streets. With this we knew why the vast majority of the people on the ferry were transporting their cars to the other side and not on foot like us. It's because everyone pulls in to Calais and gets the hell out of Dodge because Calais is French for "suck town." However, we still checked in to the nearest hotel with hopes to do something bodacious. We sat in the hotel for approximately 5 minutes before deciding to see when the train to the closest real city would be departing. We found that one was heading to Lille in an hour, so we booked it. No one can ever say we didn't donate in Europe. We paid the full night's rate for five minutes. It was a good decision, unsurprisingly suggested by yours truly, yet part of me regrets not getting a chance to sleep in the bunk beds the hotel provided us with.
So we showed up in Lille in time to enjoy a nice night on the town. We ended up metting two sisters from L.A., and since one was living there, she was able to suggest another bar. But that bar was pretty lame, so she's dead to me. The following day we did a little sightseeing and headed off on the train to Amsterdam.
Ah, good ol' Amsterdam. Aside from the myriad options that are presented and what it's primarily known for, it's actually a really cool city. Apparently it has more rivers than Venice. It was kind of surreal for me because the rivers are parallel and to me, someone with less than impressive directional skill, it was like walking past one street on then coming up to it all over again. I feel I must mention the Dutch and their bicycles, or to put it better, the bicycles and their Dutch. If I didn't know any better, I think that the bicycles were building an army to fight humans. And they'd win. When I walked out of the train station I saw a sunnier version of the human crop fields from the Matrix. Bikes everywhere. The Dutch riding their bikes was the most amusing part to me. They all ride older styled bikes with high handlebars that run parallel with the wheels. So, everytime one whizzed past me I would hear "And your little dog, too!" in my head. So we took in Amsterdam and that's all I have to say about that.
The train ride to our next destination proved difficult once again, as we were supposed to transfer in Antwerp, but had no way of knowing. But we eventually got back on track. On the train the ticket checker stopped to talk to us and mentioned that he is heading for the States next week and that New York would be one of his stops. Tom impressed us both with his intimate knowledge of the city by suggesting lesser-known local hotspots like The Met and Central Park. Wow, no Rockefeller Center, no double-decker bus tour? Anyway, the one place Tom absolutely wanted to see on this trip was Bruges, Belgium. Upon arrival I immediately understood why. Bruges is one of the most romantic cities in the world. What better place for two dudes? Tim and Tom climbed the 366 steps to the top of the belfry for an amzing panoramic view of the town. I thought we should hold hands, but alas, it was not meant to be. We also sampled some famous Belgian chocolates while sitting on a park bench. I'm welling up just thinking about it. We went out for the evening and chatted with some local people while enjoying the best beer I've ever had. There are several varieties of beer that are brewed by monks, and since they only make it to earn what they need (and monks don't need Ferraris), it's very hard to get. At the end of the night Tom sought out to find a phone and left me alone finishing my late-night snack. He proceeded to be a part of what I can only describe as an "O'Hagan-only adventure," but that's his to tell.
That brings us to today. According to our book, Victor Hugo described the Grand-Place in Brussels as "the most beautiful square in the world." But what the hell does Victor Hugo know? Evidently a fair amount because the square is pretty impressive. I'd hate to be an architect and come here knowing that these buildings were built hundreds of years ago, and know how today's work pales in comparison. But, as luck would have it, I'm not an architect. Ta ta for now, blog world.
So we showed up in Lille in time to enjoy a nice night on the town. We ended up metting two sisters from L.A., and since one was living there, she was able to suggest another bar. But that bar was pretty lame, so she's dead to me. The following day we did a little sightseeing and headed off on the train to Amsterdam.
Ah, good ol' Amsterdam. Aside from the myriad options that are presented and what it's primarily known for, it's actually a really cool city. Apparently it has more rivers than Venice. It was kind of surreal for me because the rivers are parallel and to me, someone with less than impressive directional skill, it was like walking past one street on then coming up to it all over again. I feel I must mention the Dutch and their bicycles, or to put it better, the bicycles and their Dutch. If I didn't know any better, I think that the bicycles were building an army to fight humans. And they'd win. When I walked out of the train station I saw a sunnier version of the human crop fields from the Matrix. Bikes everywhere. The Dutch riding their bikes was the most amusing part to me. They all ride older styled bikes with high handlebars that run parallel with the wheels. So, everytime one whizzed past me I would hear "And your little dog, too!" in my head. So we took in Amsterdam and that's all I have to say about that.
The train ride to our next destination proved difficult once again, as we were supposed to transfer in Antwerp, but had no way of knowing. But we eventually got back on track. On the train the ticket checker stopped to talk to us and mentioned that he is heading for the States next week and that New York would be one of his stops. Tom impressed us both with his intimate knowledge of the city by suggesting lesser-known local hotspots like The Met and Central Park. Wow, no Rockefeller Center, no double-decker bus tour? Anyway, the one place Tom absolutely wanted to see on this trip was Bruges, Belgium. Upon arrival I immediately understood why. Bruges is one of the most romantic cities in the world. What better place for two dudes? Tim and Tom climbed the 366 steps to the top of the belfry for an amzing panoramic view of the town. I thought we should hold hands, but alas, it was not meant to be. We also sampled some famous Belgian chocolates while sitting on a park bench. I'm welling up just thinking about it. We went out for the evening and chatted with some local people while enjoying the best beer I've ever had. There are several varieties of beer that are brewed by monks, and since they only make it to earn what they need (and monks don't need Ferraris), it's very hard to get. At the end of the night Tom sought out to find a phone and left me alone finishing my late-night snack. He proceeded to be a part of what I can only describe as an "O'Hagan-only adventure," but that's his to tell.
That brings us to today. According to our book, Victor Hugo described the Grand-Place in Brussels as "the most beautiful square in the world." But what the hell does Victor Hugo know? Evidently a fair amount because the square is pretty impressive. I'd hate to be an architect and come here knowing that these buildings were built hundreds of years ago, and know how today's work pales in comparison. But, as luck would have it, I'm not an architect. Ta ta for now, blog world.
I want to hallucinate dammit
This is Tom. I heard someone say my title while in Amsterdam. Pretty much sums up the place. So last I posted, we were in Ireland. On Thursday morning we flew to London, and as tim had pointed out, the plan was to go to Dover, England and then take a ferry to belgium, but we ended up in france. However, i must address the train situation in london.
We land in London at about 930 am and walk over to the train station. We buy two tickets to Dover. The guy tells us what platform to go to and we get there, sit done, and wait 15 min for our train. Now in Timmy's defense, there was a train that sat for a few minutes before leaving. But mind you, we are in a different country and since Timmy boy has never been to London, he certainly has never taken a train there, and you'd think he'd make GETTING ON the train a priority during this first trip. So...train pulls up, we both pick up our bags I walk on first Tim, I thought, was following. I get on the train, set my bag down, and turn to say something to Tim, BUT...no Tim. I turn to see 2 things. 1.Tim standing on the platform taking a picture of the train. 2. The doors of the train closing. I could not have been more shocked. We pulled away and I was speechless. It was sort of hilarious. I laughed most of my way to the next stop. I must admit, it has been nice, cause if Tim gives me a hard time about anything Ive always got "Dude, you missed a train cause you were taking a picture of it!" in my back pocket.
So we ended up making it to Calais, France. Awful, awful place. We stayed a couple hours and then went to Lille, France. That was a great city. We went to an Austrailian bar(cleverly named "Australian Bar") and met some locals who took us to a gothic underground bar.
Friday moring we headed to Amsterdam. Sunday we left Amsterdam. What happens in Amsterdam, stays in Amsterdam. Ill just say that Tim and Tom behaved themselves.
Then yesterday we boarded a train for Brussels. We made it to Antwerp and then the train, and us, started back toward Amsterdam. Apparently connections and changing trains aren,t pertinent info that train people give out when asked "How do Tim and Tom get to Brussels?" And yes, we do refer to ourselves in the 3rd person while here on our bodacious journey. So we got ourselves turned around and actually went to Brugge, Belgium instead.
Brugge is an old gothic town with really cool architecture and great beer made by monks. We found a place to stay and headed out for some Belgium beer. We found a bar to our liking and had some nice dark monk made belgium beer. We started talking to a young couple from a small town in Belgium. We asked them why they were drinking coke instead of this fine beer and the guy told us he had kidney surgery and wasn't really supposed to drink. So I mention I am/almost am a doctor. Ten minutes later, there is some comotion behind us and we see some guy laying on the ground with people qround him. So the guy were with yells in his broken English, "This guy here is a doctor!" My thoughts were no no no, shut it. It was like the Seinfeld scene "Is anyone here a marine biologist?" Not only am I new to this doctor thing, but these people only speak Flemish and Ive had quite a few of Blegiums finest brews in me. So I walked over and luckily an ambulance pulled up a couple minutes later.
The rest of the night got blurry. This belgium stuff is strong. The short version of this story is that around 3am while on our way home and eating fries and mayonaise, I decide I need to make a phone call and announce this to Tim. From what we remember, Tim felt this was not in Tim and Tom's bodacious journey's best interest and he said no, but i go anyway and find myself in a tiny shop were Apu gives me a phone to use. I call for about 45min and then start talking to apu who invites me in the back of his shop where there is a living room and his wife. He busts out some johnny walker whiskey and we have some and all talk for about and hour. After about 10 min a customer comes in and apu goes to get up and i say no apu, I got this one. So go out and start working the counter and register. I couldn,t read the stuff so I just chqrged people whatever I thought was good. It was pretty hilarious thinking about it. So at about 4am I say i have to leave and ask apu what i owe for the half bottle of johnny, the 45 min internqtional phone call, and the pizza I ate there. He says for you my friend, dont worry about it. Again hilarious. So I stumble back home and all was well.
Well I cant type anymore, so more to come from tim and tom's bodacious adventure later. so long.
We land in London at about 930 am and walk over to the train station. We buy two tickets to Dover. The guy tells us what platform to go to and we get there, sit done, and wait 15 min for our train. Now in Timmy's defense, there was a train that sat for a few minutes before leaving. But mind you, we are in a different country and since Timmy boy has never been to London, he certainly has never taken a train there, and you'd think he'd make GETTING ON the train a priority during this first trip. So...train pulls up, we both pick up our bags I walk on first Tim, I thought, was following. I get on the train, set my bag down, and turn to say something to Tim, BUT...no Tim. I turn to see 2 things. 1.Tim standing on the platform taking a picture of the train. 2. The doors of the train closing. I could not have been more shocked. We pulled away and I was speechless. It was sort of hilarious. I laughed most of my way to the next stop. I must admit, it has been nice, cause if Tim gives me a hard time about anything Ive always got "Dude, you missed a train cause you were taking a picture of it!" in my back pocket.
So we ended up making it to Calais, France. Awful, awful place. We stayed a couple hours and then went to Lille, France. That was a great city. We went to an Austrailian bar(cleverly named "Australian Bar") and met some locals who took us to a gothic underground bar.
Friday moring we headed to Amsterdam. Sunday we left Amsterdam. What happens in Amsterdam, stays in Amsterdam. Ill just say that Tim and Tom behaved themselves.
Then yesterday we boarded a train for Brussels. We made it to Antwerp and then the train, and us, started back toward Amsterdam. Apparently connections and changing trains aren,t pertinent info that train people give out when asked "How do Tim and Tom get to Brussels?" And yes, we do refer to ourselves in the 3rd person while here on our bodacious journey. So we got ourselves turned around and actually went to Brugge, Belgium instead.
Brugge is an old gothic town with really cool architecture and great beer made by monks. We found a place to stay and headed out for some Belgium beer. We found a bar to our liking and had some nice dark monk made belgium beer. We started talking to a young couple from a small town in Belgium. We asked them why they were drinking coke instead of this fine beer and the guy told us he had kidney surgery and wasn't really supposed to drink. So I mention I am/almost am a doctor. Ten minutes later, there is some comotion behind us and we see some guy laying on the ground with people qround him. So the guy were with yells in his broken English, "This guy here is a doctor!" My thoughts were no no no, shut it. It was like the Seinfeld scene "Is anyone here a marine biologist?" Not only am I new to this doctor thing, but these people only speak Flemish and Ive had quite a few of Blegiums finest brews in me. So I walked over and luckily an ambulance pulled up a couple minutes later.
The rest of the night got blurry. This belgium stuff is strong. The short version of this story is that around 3am while on our way home and eating fries and mayonaise, I decide I need to make a phone call and announce this to Tim. From what we remember, Tim felt this was not in Tim and Tom's bodacious journey's best interest and he said no, but i go anyway and find myself in a tiny shop were Apu gives me a phone to use. I call for about 45min and then start talking to apu who invites me in the back of his shop where there is a living room and his wife. He busts out some johnny walker whiskey and we have some and all talk for about and hour. After about 10 min a customer comes in and apu goes to get up and i say no apu, I got this one. So go out and start working the counter and register. I couldn,t read the stuff so I just chqrged people whatever I thought was good. It was pretty hilarious thinking about it. So at about 4am I say i have to leave and ask apu what i owe for the half bottle of johnny, the 45 min internqtional phone call, and the pizza I ate there. He says for you my friend, dont worry about it. Again hilarious. So I stumble back home and all was well.
Well I cant type anymore, so more to come from tim and tom's bodacious adventure later. so long.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Dear Rick......
(Tim) First off, let me thank those of you who have posted commented. Except Drew. Those of you who did have validated my blog existence. So I've got that going for me. Which is nice. Anyway, last I left this blog we were headed to one of our big stops in Ireland, the Guiness Storehouse. So we rolled in excited to learn more about this wonderful beer and enjoy our complimentary pint with a view of Ireland. That is until we got there at 5:30 and found that they close at 5pm. Awesome. Stay hot, travelers. Once we got over the fact that we missed the one tour we wanted to take in Dublin, we walked around and saw as much of the Dublin area as we could. We found our way back to the hotel around dinner time, and considering how difficult it was to find food at this time yesterday and given the fact that we were a bit of a walk back to the food places, we just grabbed a pizza across the street from our B&B. We went back to the room and Tom popped on the tv. I had the opportunity to point out to Tom that we were in Dublin Ireland eating pizza, drinking Coke, and watching Scrubs. Can these guys travel or what! We then went back out for a few pints and turned in (relatively speaking) early. We had a big day of travel ahead of us. Turned out to be a bit different than we had planned.
We turned the rental car in, but not before Dublin urban planning had it's last laugh, as we had to circle the airport trying to find the rental car drop-off, only to discover that the directions were on the road, not on signs. Ha! I could sense Dublin's smug grin. From there we boarded a plane to London whrere we would take the train to the ferry, the ferry to Belgium and a short train to Bruges, Belgium. "Would" being the operative word. As in we "would have done it if it were possible. It turns out the ferry had a surprise for us as well. But I must first mention our experience with the London trains. I'm sure Tom will blog about this and make it out to be the dumbest thing ever done in the history of mankind. Don't get me wrong, it was incredibly stupid, I just like to think that someone, somewhere has done something dumber. So we're waiting for the train and several others pull up, hang out for awhile, and pull out. So ours comes by and we grab out things and start walking to it. I had decided before this point to take as many pictures as possible to try to create a sort of photo journal. So I stop to snap a picture and look up to see Tom. On the other side of the closed train doors. One second later it pulls away. With Tom and without me. The looks on our faces were a combination of, well, there are no words to describe our faces at that moment . As it pulled out, my biggest concern was for the two gentlemen working security down there who I thought for a minute may possibly die laughing. So, I caught the next train to the destination and spent the hour I had to wait for it laughing out loud at myself. Looking back I probably did not look sane.
We then got off the train and took a quick bus to the ferry. We pop in to the ferry station and ask when the next ferry to Belgium departs. And that would be............wait for it..............never. Sorry guys, the ferries only go to France. Tom shows me where in his book Rick Steves tells us that these ferries go to Belgium and it's a fifteen minute train to Bruges. The ferry takes you to France, where it is a several hour trip to Bruges. In the words of the immortal Brian Matson, I feel and email coming on. Yes, Rick Steves will be hearing from one Tim Kalita as soon as I get home.
Since we were there, we decided to take the ferry to Calais, France, into a country that was not on our itinerary at all, and make the best of it. More on the trip to France to follow.
We turned the rental car in, but not before Dublin urban planning had it's last laugh, as we had to circle the airport trying to find the rental car drop-off, only to discover that the directions were on the road, not on signs. Ha! I could sense Dublin's smug grin. From there we boarded a plane to London whrere we would take the train to the ferry, the ferry to Belgium and a short train to Bruges, Belgium. "Would" being the operative word. As in we "would have done it if it were possible. It turns out the ferry had a surprise for us as well. But I must first mention our experience with the London trains. I'm sure Tom will blog about this and make it out to be the dumbest thing ever done in the history of mankind. Don't get me wrong, it was incredibly stupid, I just like to think that someone, somewhere has done something dumber. So we're waiting for the train and several others pull up, hang out for awhile, and pull out. So ours comes by and we grab out things and start walking to it. I had decided before this point to take as many pictures as possible to try to create a sort of photo journal. So I stop to snap a picture and look up to see Tom. On the other side of the closed train doors. One second later it pulls away. With Tom and without me. The looks on our faces were a combination of, well, there are no words to describe our faces at that moment . As it pulled out, my biggest concern was for the two gentlemen working security down there who I thought for a minute may possibly die laughing. So, I caught the next train to the destination and spent the hour I had to wait for it laughing out loud at myself. Looking back I probably did not look sane.
We then got off the train and took a quick bus to the ferry. We pop in to the ferry station and ask when the next ferry to Belgium departs. And that would be............wait for it..............never. Sorry guys, the ferries only go to France. Tom shows me where in his book Rick Steves tells us that these ferries go to Belgium and it's a fifteen minute train to Bruges. The ferry takes you to France, where it is a several hour trip to Bruges. In the words of the immortal Brian Matson, I feel and email coming on. Yes, Rick Steves will be hearing from one Tim Kalita as soon as I get home.
Since we were there, we decided to take the ferry to Calais, France, into a country that was not on our itinerary at all, and make the best of it. More on the trip to France to follow.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Tom's view of Ireland
This is Tom. Greatest country ever. I think it's the people. So I'll apologize now for all the typos, spelling errors, and run on sentences. As Tim has described in great detail, we've been touring around Ireland. Sorry if any of this overlaps with what he says, but he's typing next to me and I havent read what he's written. We got into Shannon at 6am local time on Sunday. For our trip to blarney, a town called Kinsale, and then to the Dingle Penninsula, we had been up for about 48 hours. This fact, along with the new art of driving on the wrong side of the road, made all traveling quite interesting. Also, Tim apparently learned his right from left as a child by knowing that the driver is always on the left. Now that the driver is on the right, Tim does not know his right from left in the car. Here is an excerpt from the car in the middle of bustling Dublin last night...
(Tim with map, Tom driving)
Tom: Where do I go
Timmy: Left at the next street
Tom: OK
Timmy: Left here....left! What are you doing, LEFT!!!!!
(Tom turns left)
Timmy: You moron, I said left.
Tom: I did go left you jackass
Timmy: Oh yeah, I meant right.
So now we have "lefts" and "real lefts" while driving. Tim will say, turn left, and I will ask, a left, or a real left?
So back to our trip. Blarney Castle was really cool. And as I know Tim has told you, he loves ancient architecture, so not only did I get to see this beautiful castle, but I also was enlightened with 100 great facts on the Great Pyramids from Timmy here. Fantastic! We then drove through Cork which is where my grandma's parents were from. Then we headed to the Dingle Penninsula. 50 pubs for a population of 1500 people. The way we figured, there were more barstools in the town than there were people. We biked around the Penninsula on Monday. A nice leisurely 30mile bike ride according to the guide book we have. Yeah, maybe leisurely for Lance Armstrong. We nearly didn't make it. However, some of the greatest views I've ever seen. We met an older couple out on one of the cliffs and talked for about 10minutes. The Irish are some of the nicest people in the world.
After Dingle, we drove to Galway on Tuesday. It has a great downtown area and great pubs. We went out and listened to some great Irish music.
Yesterday we drove from Galway here to Dublin. We drove around for a good hour or two trying to find a cheap place to stay. Dublin doesn't exactly have the nice grid-like streets you find in Manhattan. Tim throw the map into the back seat more than once in disgust. So for the first 2 hours, Dublin defeated us....but Tim and Tom's bodacious journey would not be put down, and eventually we found a nice little bed and breakfast. Great success!
Today we are headed to the Guinness brewery. Tomorrow we head to Belgium. So I will end my first blog on that note, of to get my complimentary Guinness! It's a great day for a Guinness.
(Tim with map, Tom driving)
Tom: Where do I go
Timmy: Left at the next street
Tom: OK
Timmy: Left here....left! What are you doing, LEFT!!!!!
(Tom turns left)
Timmy: You moron, I said left.
Tom: I did go left you jackass
Timmy: Oh yeah, I meant right.
So now we have "lefts" and "real lefts" while driving. Tim will say, turn left, and I will ask, a left, or a real left?
So back to our trip. Blarney Castle was really cool. And as I know Tim has told you, he loves ancient architecture, so not only did I get to see this beautiful castle, but I also was enlightened with 100 great facts on the Great Pyramids from Timmy here. Fantastic! We then drove through Cork which is where my grandma's parents were from. Then we headed to the Dingle Penninsula. 50 pubs for a population of 1500 people. The way we figured, there were more barstools in the town than there were people. We biked around the Penninsula on Monday. A nice leisurely 30mile bike ride according to the guide book we have. Yeah, maybe leisurely for Lance Armstrong. We nearly didn't make it. However, some of the greatest views I've ever seen. We met an older couple out on one of the cliffs and talked for about 10minutes. The Irish are some of the nicest people in the world.
After Dingle, we drove to Galway on Tuesday. It has a great downtown area and great pubs. We went out and listened to some great Irish music.
Yesterday we drove from Galway here to Dublin. We drove around for a good hour or two trying to find a cheap place to stay. Dublin doesn't exactly have the nice grid-like streets you find in Manhattan. Tim throw the map into the back seat more than once in disgust. So for the first 2 hours, Dublin defeated us....but Tim and Tom's bodacious journey would not be put down, and eventually we found a nice little bed and breakfast. Great success!
Today we are headed to the Guinness brewery. Tomorrow we head to Belgium. So I will end my first blog on that note, of to get my complimentary Guinness! It's a great day for a Guinness.
My Goodness, My Guinness, My Hangover
Tim here. The title pretty much covers the bases right now. Tim and Tom Dublined it up last night. Hard. If the first Guinness don't get ya, the last 12 will. We only got the first B of the B&B, as we slept until 1:30. Nice work gents. We actually met two guys at different bars that had recently lived in Chicago. Both good guys. One guy was working on sailboats at Belmont harbor. He mentioned his "success" with the ladies with the combination of an Irish accent and 24-hour boat access. This did not surprise me. I've seen the effect of an Australian accent at American bars, and it isn't pretty. Anyway, we arrived in Dublin yesterday around 4pm and proceeded to flex our Rick Stevesesque travel prowess by driving around the city for about an hour and a half searching for some accomodation. This is with 2 maps, and asking three different locals (one twice) for directions. The city of Dublin is an absolute abortion of urban planning. The street signs are no bigger than the side street signs at home, and are conveniently bolted to the walls of buildings on MOST intersections. The city is layed out like a more complex Riverside, IL. With lots of one way streets. The people give directions like we live here. I'm constantly reminded of Funny Farm in this place. "How could you get lost? I drew you a map!" pretty much sums up me sitting in the passenger side with the two travel maps whilst Tom circled Dublin for the ninth time. Anyway, as Tom has pointed out every hour on the hour, every Irish stereotype is 100% true. Friendly? Yes. Pound Guinness all day every day? You betchya. Sheep? Everywhere. Other than trying to find anything, the city of Dublin is pretty sweet. It is a big modern city, but still has the old feel to it. Cobblestone streets and old Irish pubs abound. They do have double decker commuter buses, thus adding an extra bus worth of space. If this technology exists, I fail to see how any major city is without them. Wake up, America. So, to sum up, we came, we drove around, we saw, we were conquered (by Guinness).
I haven't mentioned our stat on the Dingle penninsula. That's not because it isn't noteworthy, it's just becasue I'm a bad blogger. So this is where we took in some amazing Irish countryside. And sheep. We rented some bikes and I amused the hell out of myelf by riding along yelling out "what's up sheep!" about every two minutes. I don't think Tom was as entertained. The brakes were reversed, thus throwing in some near death experiences for good measure. I just figured that I would just use both brakes, and have no problem using only the front brake on accident. Wrong. So we went around this 30 mile loop around the area. It was really a great time until about five miles before the end when there was a long uphill and Tim and Tom almost couldn't hack it. As Tom pointed out, this is a heavily recommended travel activity, and we're in decent shape for the average human being. And no books mentioned that it might get a bit tough. Hardest bike riding I've ever been a part of at one point I didn't think we were going fast enough to keep the bike balanced. But the effort was a small price to pay to take in what we saw. I can't really do it justice without pictures, so i won't try. One thing to note however, was that the property was all divided by three-foot walls of stacked stones. Including the property all the way up the mountainsides. After seeing hundreds of miles of these walls, Tom astutely commented " So apparently the Irish spent about 100 years just building walls." I found it pretty amusing. That is until I asked someone about the walls and he said that they were built during the potato famine and that the workers did it for a meal, not money. The comment was somehow less funny.
So that brings us pretty much up to speed. After posting this we will head over to the Guinness Factory. Because what Tim and Tom need right now is more beer. We then plan to fly to Belgium, where they apparently don't eat waffles for breakfast. Who knew. I should note that this could be my last ever blog. There's a good chance that because I always look the wrong way before crossing major streets, I will be struck by a car driving itself on the wrong side of the road. But seeing as Tom really isn't much of a "you go, we go" type of guy, I think he'll carry on. Just kidding Tom. By for now, Americans.
I haven't mentioned our stat on the Dingle penninsula. That's not because it isn't noteworthy, it's just becasue I'm a bad blogger. So this is where we took in some amazing Irish countryside. And sheep. We rented some bikes and I amused the hell out of myelf by riding along yelling out "what's up sheep!" about every two minutes. I don't think Tom was as entertained. The brakes were reversed, thus throwing in some near death experiences for good measure. I just figured that I would just use both brakes, and have no problem using only the front brake on accident. Wrong. So we went around this 30 mile loop around the area. It was really a great time until about five miles before the end when there was a long uphill and Tim and Tom almost couldn't hack it. As Tom pointed out, this is a heavily recommended travel activity, and we're in decent shape for the average human being. And no books mentioned that it might get a bit tough. Hardest bike riding I've ever been a part of at one point I didn't think we were going fast enough to keep the bike balanced. But the effort was a small price to pay to take in what we saw. I can't really do it justice without pictures, so i won't try. One thing to note however, was that the property was all divided by three-foot walls of stacked stones. Including the property all the way up the mountainsides. After seeing hundreds of miles of these walls, Tom astutely commented " So apparently the Irish spent about 100 years just building walls." I found it pretty amusing. That is until I asked someone about the walls and he said that they were built during the potato famine and that the workers did it for a meal, not money. The comment was somehow less funny.
So that brings us pretty much up to speed. After posting this we will head over to the Guinness Factory. Because what Tim and Tom need right now is more beer. We then plan to fly to Belgium, where they apparently don't eat waffles for breakfast. Who knew. I should note that this could be my last ever blog. There's a good chance that because I always look the wrong way before crossing major streets, I will be struck by a car driving itself on the wrong side of the road. But seeing as Tom really isn't much of a "you go, we go" type of guy, I think he'll carry on. Just kidding Tom. By for now, Americans.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Bodacious Beginning
Hello and welcome to my first ever blog. Upon reading I expect everyone's reaction to be "wow, he's obviously never done this before." But that's why I put the disclaimer in the email, people. I don't believe I've ever written anything that other people may read voluntarily, and it will show. Anyway, Tim and Tom's Bodacious Journey is off to a great start in Ireland. We rented a car and have done a fair amount of driving thus far. It's pretty sweet because driving on the wrong side was on my checklist of life. Check. It is pretty easy to get used to, except when we're driving around a blind coner and a car comes flying in on the right side of the road. Whichever one of us is driving flinches every time, a la spazzing out of a nap in class. Just a little extra entertainment for the passenger. It also always, just for a split second, appears that the cars are driving themselves.We pulled out of the airport and headed down toward Blarney, home of the aptly named Blarney Castle, and not surprisingly, Blarney Stone. Kissing the Blarney Stone was most definitely on Tom's checklist of life, as he informed me on numerous occasions before we arrived, so we set out to do just that. The castle was really cool. As some of you may know, ancient architecture fascinates me (if you need some facts about the Great Pyramid, just ask). This castle I found particularily interesting. Smallest rooms ever. Apparently these kings and queens hired some guy to draw up a castle blueprint and the guy says "Here we have a 50,000sq.ft. luxury home, where the private rooms will be no bigger than 6x6 and if you've had a big lunch, don't even think about fitting in the stairs." SOLD! Where do I sign?! For those of you who, like me, figured the Blarney Stone to be some rock in the middle of nowhere, it's not. It's actually part of the wall at the top of the castle. And kissing it while on your back hanging off a ledge is the way it must be done. So we climb the mini-stairwell and arrive at the top and......Holy lame modernization of a potentially once neat-o tradition, Batman. Some dude is there to slide you on the plastic mat they've put in place and gets you in and out of there in about 6 seconds. Getting a picture of someone at the precise milisecond that this clown allowed each person to "experience" this tradition was a matter of serious timing. But I think Tim and Tom prevailed, adding to the Bodaciousness of the Journey (for those wondering, the title of this blog was supposed to be off of Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey, but I thought it was "Bodacious" and decided to keep the title anyway). After that, we walked around the grounds. There was definitely some vegetation I had never seen before. Some of it looked like it was pulled out of a fairy tale. Had I walked around the corner to happen upon a caterpillar smoking a hookah pipe atop a giant mushroom, I would have shrugged and kept on.Well, we must be off. I hope this blog has not been quite as brutally boring as it seems to me. I apologize for all the typos. I didn't take the time to proofread, some keys are different, and about half the keys have been worn away and are blank. Also, Tom has nearly earned the right to the password to this blog, so if he continues to behave, look for his posts soon. Enjoy.
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by TN
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by TN
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