In This House That I Call Home

August 29, 2010

It is not like me to sit around a house all day, but admittedly, it is that activity precisely which I have found most attractive lately.

On Sunday, rather than explore Provence from the outside, and face the strong mistral winds, I spent virtually the entire day indoors, listening to music, eating fruit (peaches, figs, plums), reading (will likely finish Infinite Jest in the next few days), and relaxing.

X -- In This House That I Call Home

du blühendes Land, Menschen haben dich Garten der Liebe genannt

August 28, 2010

Another observation about this trip: I've been drinking much less coffee. In fact, I think there have been a few days where I skipped coffee entirely, or had no more than one shot of espresso for the entire day. Very surprising. By 2 months into my last trip, I had very much a habit of several espressos a day. At home, I drink at least one 20 ounce coffee a day. Is this why I've been sleeping so late in the morning?

We made the collective decision that the Smart Car I had rented, however charming, was far too expensive, and that it must be returned to Avignon. D drove R to the airport (he was on his way to the Edinburg International Festival) and E and I (neither of us familiar with driving in France), drove to a semi-nearby Patisserie to pick up pain au chocolate (breakfast for me), and three chicken sandwiches for all of us later. Despite only a few missed roads, we managed to arrive at Avignon TGV at the promised time to drop off the car and meet up with D. I turned in my keys to the same girl at Hertz from whom I had rented the car on Thursday, very friendly both times. This time though, I thought she said she was going to print something out and give it to me, so sat waiting at the counter making small talk for a few minutes while I thought I was waiting for it to print. Finally I asked if she was printing it and she said "no", and I realized that I probably looked like I was semi-awkwardly lingering, so I said okay, thank you, and the three of us left.

We drove through the Provencal mountains (steep, hilly, white rocks) to the tiny touristy town of Les Baux (from which I learned the word "bauxite" derives"), and visited the Cathedrale D'Images. This "cathedral" is actually a former limestone quarry, now a hollowed out portion of the mountain, now featuring exhibits by which images are broadcast onto the white stone walls, accompanied by music. I have been informed that in previous years the exhibits have been about visual art, this exhibit concerned Australia, its history, its landscapes, the Aboriginals, etc. The room was slightly chilly (refreshing on such a hot day), and I enjoyed it. Afterwards we walked through the town of Les Baux (all touristy shops) to the church at the top of the hill and ate lunch. As mentioned previously, the winds were strong.

We drove back to the house (after stopping briefly to pick up R's bike from the shop) (I think I slept part of the way), and I think I may have taken a nap upon arrival.

D and E prepared dinner (both excellent cooks), and we watched a film made by R about Shakespeare's Hamlet -- essentially a faux television program wherein the characters in the play are interviewed throughout the course of the action, I believe intended for educational purposes. The conversational nature of the program I thought was an effective way of explaining the characters' motives, from the perspective of those same characters.

Nana Mouskouri -- La Provence

Take Your Year in Provence

August 27, 2010

For a moment I'm going to make a comment about right now, rather than just what happened on August 27 (although this applies to a slightly lesser degree to August 27 as well): the winds in Provence are furious, intense and loud. My understanding is that these winds are referred to as "mistrals". According to the linked wikipedia article, these mistrals are key to the climate of southern France/Provence; if they continue like this for any significant portion of the year, i can see why. The house I am in is at the top of a hill (or halfway up maybe) and surrounded by trees and vineyards, all of which I can see swaying in the wind. Bicycling is popular here in Provence, but there's no way I'd like to be on a bicycle when the winds are blowing like this (they were blowing far less furiously in Texel, and I was plenty intimidated by that).

Either I have managed to unluckily catch some very intense weather in Europe (rainstorm in Zurich, rainstorm in Suomenlinna, Finland, rain throughout Iceland, rain in Amsterdam, very heavy rain in Copenhagen, rain in Paris, and even one evening of rain in Barcelona), or I must/should come to term with the reality that the weather in Los Angeles truly is exceptionally good. Even though most of these places never got particularly cold, the unpredictability of the weather made all plans uncertain, and required preparation for all possibilities. And this in July and August (where in Los Angeles, I can usually assume the weather will be "hot".)

Friday morning I woke up late, completely slept through the morning in fact, and missed D, E and R's bike ride. Spent a few hours on the computer though, which felt great. R returned earlier, and he and I drove to Menerbes (close by) for lunch (caesar salad). We returned to the house, and relaxed for a few hours, sat out by the pool, took a short nap.

At around 7:00 p.m. we drove to a bed and breakfast run by two Dutch friends of D and R, where a dinner was being hosted for the guests of the bed and breakfast and for us. I was immediately introduced to about 15 different people, mostly Dutch, some Belgian, one from Luxembourg, one German, all friendly, and all on the yearly 3 week holiday. In a way, I felt that the tables were turned as far as talking about holiday. Usually when I meet people on 3 week holiday I silently seethe with envy, but here, I felt almost ashamed explaining my 6-12 month holiday to people who would be returning to work in a scant 2-3 weeks.

The evening began in the living room, sipping sparkling rose wine, listening to Chet Baker, listing the various locations I had visited in the Netherlands. The party then moved to a long outdoor table, from which we eventually watched the sun set over the Provencal hills. The multi-course meal was delicious (foie gras (which seems to show up remarkably often in Europe) with a salad and jelly, chicken, another entree I can't remember, a chocolate cake, and three other parfait-looking desserts). I sat next to a Belgian/Flemish couple who were visiting this B&B for the second time, and were so proud of how well they had aged that they insisted that I guess how old they were (I would not do it -- the answer was 49 and 50, but I would have guessed many years fewer).

The sky was clear in the countryside, so I could see the stars and the moon clearly.

Pulp -- I Spy

after all those trains and all those breakdown lanes

August 26, 2010

On Thursday I traveled from San Sebastian, Spain, to Oppede, France (in Provence). The journey involved five trains, a rented car, and approximately 12-13 hours door to door. It was exhausting, but there's little to say about it, except that I spent most of the day passing in and out of sleep on the trains, hoping that I would make my next connections and that I wouldn't have trouble renting a car in Avignon without a reservation. My stomach didn't feel great for most of the day, so I ate very little -- I think I ate a sandwich on one of the trains. While days like these are without a doubt unpleasant, they give the trip some "backpacker" feel, right?

I was very relieved to pull my rented Smart Car (kind of fun to drive actually) into the house in Oppede. For the next few days I would be staying with my cousin (second or third cousin, maybe, I'm not sure what the exact name of the relation is) D's house in Provence, where her sister E (same relation to me, obviously) would also be staying for 2 weeks. Even compared to some of the best places I've stayed, this house is top notch. Pool, fridge full of food (including fresh fruit), my own room and bathroom downstairs, laundry machine AND DRYER!!!!, and great view. I was exhausted upon my arrival so spent the next few hours sitting in front of the computer, eating plums, heated up chicken and soda water. I was very happy to be there.

Magnetic Fields -- "Long Vermont Roads"

Esta ciudad del mar tan Alejada, más alejada, más alejada, más?

August 25, 2010

The Urban House hostel was disappointing insofar as the promised "breakfast" consisted of plastic wrapped cupcakes, no coffee, maybe bread and jam.

And then, as I was leaving for the afternoon, the girl at the front desk asked me if I was staying that night. I said "yes, I am, I told the guy sitting here yesterday." She said "no, we don't have you in, and we're totally full." But she agreed that, in light of my plans to take a 6:30 a.m. train the next morning, it would be acceptable to leave my stuff in the lobby until then, and to hang out/nap there until I left. Not a bad deal. Given the reality that if I were to go to sleep after midnight, the likelihood of waking up was slim to none, at this point I decided to, if possible, stay out until the time I needed to leave for the train.

On Wednesday I decided to take a more "organized" trip to the beach, this time bringing a backpack filled with everything I would need: a beach towel (also my shower towel, fyi), candy, a bottle of water, an 1100 page book, my iPod, a map, and the relevant pages regarding San Sebastian that I had physically ripped from the Lonely Planet guide. I returned to the "Surfer's Beach" (again...I saw surfers, but I'm not exactly sure what they were trying to accomplish in the relatively calm water), laid down the towel and alternated between reading and sleeping for about 2 hours. To refer back to another theme of this trip (and maybe even previous years), it shocks me how resistant I seem to be to sunburn. Between 1:00 p.m. and 3:00 p.m. direct sunlight, no sunscreen, at most I had a moderate tan, no burn at all. Possible? I don't see how.

I took the suggestion to check out La Cepa for yet another pintxos lunch. Legs of ham (with feet!) hanging from the ceiling, full room. Ordered grilled peppers with garlic and salt and octopus. Here's a picture of the peppers, which were very good:

Walked back to the hostel, spent some time on the computer, and then decided to walk back to the beach. This time sat in the shade, and again slept and read, before returning back yet again to shower in preparation for the hostel organized BBQ.

Once again, a group of approximately 20 Australians (and I) met up in front of the Basilica, as this was the designated meeting spot before heading up the "Jesus Statue" mountain. Like the previous hostel event, the same guy was in charge, except this time he stayed under control, and successfully cooked a delicious BBQ meal. I had a great time at the BBQ, chatted with an Australian couple (who were 28! almost my age!) who were traveling for a few months before getting married, as well as M, the Australian guy I had hung out with on Monday night. I met two Australian girls who had spent a few days in LA as part of their travels, and were not particularly impressed -- one of the reasons being the unfriendliness of busdrivers, and the long distances required to walk anywhere. Later in the evening, spent about an hour or two again at Bebop (as I had the previous 2 nights).

It was a fun night, and I managed to stay out until about 4:45 a.m., giving me enough time to surf the internet a bit, and then head out to the train station. I'm not sure where this day officially "ends", as I slept in half hour to hour segments during my 12 hour journey to Provence on Thursday.

Mikel Erentxun -- Todo Es Igual Siempre

Upon the Sand, Upon the Bay

August 24, 2010

I regret to say that I began my second day in San Sebastian at 3:00 p.m.

I decided after waking up that I needed to stay in SS for 3 nights, rather than the 2 I had originally planned. I thought I mentioned this to the guy working the front desk.

San Sebastian sits between two small, easy to climb mountains. Igeldo I walked up on Monday, and on Tuesday I used the energy I had remaining climb up the Urgull Mountain. At the top is a huge statue of Jesus Christ and a castle. A Mitch Hedberg routine, popped up on my Ipod while I during my walk. The view from the top was not quite as impressive as the Igeldo view, but the castle on Urgull was much cooler than the lame amusement park.

Then I walked to the San Sebastian beach often referred to as the "Surfer's Beach", and I don't quite understand why it is called that, as I didn't see much there in terms of waves, but so be it, they can call it whatever they want, and what do I know about surfing anyway? Nothing. After walking the length of the beach, I called my friend N, in London, and confirmed that we would be traveling to Tel-Aviv together between September 20 and 28th. At some point I need to consider what we'll be doing there. Maybe I can recruit her to do the planning.

I spent the next 1-2 hours booking the flight. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to book over the phone. But I learned on this walk that San Sebastian, Spain, or at least the Old City, is probably the most easy to navigate town I've been to, Grongingen, Netherlands a close second. Even though on the phone, preoccupied, and not really paying attention, I managed to walk directly back to my hostel without even trying.

This night the hostel hosted a trip to a restaurant called the Cider House, which the employees kept saying was amazing, and a must do activity. I used my self control and decided I needed to take it easy, so I declined the event. I also thought that two nights in a row with the same group of Australians might be overkill.

Instead, I walked to Bar Astalena, recommended by the Lonely Planet, for pintxos, and where I ran into the Australian tour guide from the previous night, reading a book. Because the old town is so small, it is very easy to run into the folks with whom one is already slightly acquainted. I like this about San Sebastian. I ate some grilled squid on a stick, frog legs, and shrimp on a stick. I'm not describing these in enough detail to give a sense of how good they tasted (very?), and I haven't had the patience to photograph all of the food I eat (and then email those pictures to myself, and then upload those pictures to the blog), but these were very flavorful, perfectly cooked, foods. Very, very impressed.

I went back to the hostel for an hour or so, watched almost everybody but me go to the Cider House tour, and reminded myself that I needed to take it easy.

But I had been recommended one other bar in San Sebastian that sounded like my cup of tea, located just down the street from the hostel, so I figured I'd drop by. The Museo De Whisky was quiet when I arrived at around 10:30, I sat down on a stool, and was slightly intimidated by the thick menu and wall of whiskies, many dating to the 1960s, that lined the walls. Fortunately, the bartendress was both very knowledgeable and friendly. She made some great suggestions, everything delicious, ended up talking to some 70 something retired San Sebastian guys. I had also been informed that later on in the evenings the downstairs portion of the bar becomes a karaoke bar. This may be true, but at the time i went (around midnight?) there was a piano player playing instrumentals, while a room of San Sebastioners lounged around, possibly waiting for an even later hour to show off their stuff.

I walked back to the hostel, briefly checked my email, and thought to myself...what the heck, I really don't feel like staying in. So walked back to the Be Bop bar from the previous night, ran into the same group of Irish people, hung out and danced with them for a bit (and discovered that one had been staying in my hostel -- see, it's a small town for tourists, also one is a lawyer, whoo hoo!), ran into the German guys staying in my room (that I had not yet met somehow), and an Australian they had befriended. Briefly spoke to a guy from Plymouth, England, who started telling me how much he likes Sleater-Kinney, just as I was walking away. It's a fun city.

The Smiths -- "Pretty Girls Make Graves"

Just Arrived Singapore, San Sebastian, Spain, 26 Hour Trip

August 23, 2010

I still believe it to be well advised to take early morning trains when possible, as they allow more time to find one's accommodations at the destination, all more time to deal with unexpected frustrations (delays, canceled trains, getting lost, missing trains) and typically i have trouble sleeping the night before I travel regardless, so I might as well just catch up on the train. But still, waking up Monday morning in time to catch my 7:30 a.m. train to San Sebastian, Spain was rough, even after a very mellow night. It was a good thing that I left early, as I got slightly lost on the metro before getting to Estacio Sants.

I had had no intention at the beginning of my trip to go to San Sebastian. It was only because I had a few days to kill before visiting family in Provence, and that I had decided semi-last minute to go to Barcelona, that an easy to navigate, small city in Basque country was considered by me. I had been told good things about it though, and had read favorable accounts of the place, and it looked not so far on the map from my destination in France (it ended up being far, actually).

The hostel at which I stayed in San Sebastian, Urban House, was by far the best hostel of the trip, and easily among the best of those I stayed on my previous trip. Here are the reasons why:

1. Located right in the middle of where everything is happening in the city. Almost every pintxos (Basque tapas) place or bar I was recommended, as well as both beaches, were within very short walks of the hostel.

2. Friendly staff. At least most of the time. Upon my arrival, I asked the girl showing me to my room where I could go to get a bite to eat. Instead of asking me what I was in the mood for (which is my least favorite response when I ask someone this question -- if I knew what i was in the mood for I would have put it into the question), or telling me that the hostel sold food, she said "oh, i'm walking over to ___ (forgot the name) to pick up a sandwich, why don't you come?" That's friendly service.

3. The hostel made the beds every night. Stayokay in Netherlands was probably a little "nicer" but I did not enjoy one bit attempting to make a bed on a top bunk.

4. Bathroom/shower not in the room. Actually a plus for hostels. Means you don't have to stumble around in the dark while other people are sleeping to use it at night, and actually means more privacy.

5. Good music playing loudly in the lobby throughout the day (Broken Bells was playing when I got there).

6. Free, fast, internet access with a short wait in the lobby. No codes, no attitude about using it, no paying 3 euro per hour.

7. Flexible attitude. As we will later learn, my last night in San Sebastian I opted to not sleep, and catch an early train. They let me keep my bags in the lobby until 5 a.m. when i left like any other paying guest.

8. I didn't see any families! What was up with the Stayokay hostels being full of families!

9. Hostel events every night out in San Sebastian. Big plus for solo traveler, allows opportunity to meet people, and not wander around aimlessly.

10. Surprisingly clean considering the fairly lax attitude of the staff.

When I checked in, I was dripping with sweat. Despite google maps on my phone, and the hostel being located on the main street, I couldn't find the street sign and had some trouble finding it. Also, the weather was great, sunny, but this is not great for carrying a heavy bag. I was shown to my room (top bunk AGAIN), walked with the Swedish employee to the local restaurant to pick up a chicken sandwich (during this walk I learned that people over the age of 21 actually drink calimocho (wine/coca cola mixture -- surprisingly good despite how it sounds), and that it is served in bars there). Walked back to the hostel and ate lunch with some of the employees (this part wasn't that fun, i didn't do a whole lot of talking).

Took off my shoes, put on flip flops and shorts and headed out to the La Concha and Ondaretta beaches. These were very nice beaches, much better than those in northern Europe, or even Los Angeles. Protected by a relatively small bay, the water is relatively calm, but still some activity, and warm, even by my standards (I think everything is cold). I'm still not accustomed to the topless female bathers, but I think I would be dishonest were I not to acknowledge this as a good thing about the beaches in Spain, at least for most of the time. Because I didn't feel comfortable leaving my stuff on the beach while going into the water, I walked along the beaches until the end.

Then walked up a fairly steep twisty road to the top of Mt. Igeldo. At the summit was located a pretty crappy amusement park, but a fantastic view of the city. Look!:

I decided not to walk down the mountain because my feet hurt from walking in flip flops -- how the heck do you guys all seem to walk around in flips flops all day long without getting sores on the tops of your feet from where the straps cut into the skin???? I took the funicula down, and a couple sitting next to me was making out.

Walked BACK across the beach, back to the hostel and took a siesta and blackberry recharge break, and woke up in time for the Pintxos Tour organized by the hostel. This event was ridiculous, and very fun, and I'm probably not going to go into all the details. As I said before, "pintxo" appears to just be the Basque word for Spanish tapas. According to the guide, they are "completely different" from Spanish tapas, and that in comparison Spanish tapas are crappy. I think he far overstated that point, but admittedly the pintxos in San Sebastian were some of the best tapas I've had. The tour would be of various pintxos bars in the city.

The tour began in front of the San Sebastian basilica. The tour guide was a Mexican guy working at the hostel, and the group was about 15 Australians and me. From the very beginning, I knew it would be a silly tour, as the guide was already listing on his feet (I learned later that he had been drinking vodka all afternoon with his friends), and his recount of this history of San Sebastian very much reminded me of this. The first stop was a bar called Atari, where, courtesy of the hostel we were given glasses of sagardoa (Basque apple cider). Traditionally (for good reason or not), this cider is poured from a great height into the glass in very small amounts, which are meant to be consumed quickly (as opposed to most other ciders I have had, which are poured out all at once and then sipped slowly-ish). We were left to our own devices to try the variety of pintxos (mostly different types of meat or fish or seafood arranged creatively on a small piece of French bread), and txakoli, a Basque white wine, slightly carbonated, a little bit less strong than regular sparkling wine, very delicious in my opinion, also poured from a height in small quantities. Most of the Australians didn't like the saradoa and txakoli as much as I did, and soon began opting for beer or requesting sangria.

I should note, that the guide, who was already listing at the beginning of the tour, was keeping up with the rest of the group, although still offering helpful guidance as to the various foods we were eating.

From here, he walked us to several other places, were we tried many more of the pintxos (I ate something which was apparently a big cluster of hake eggs, but am still not exactly sure what it was), until we realized that he was missing.

From here, a girl who had been acting as a tour guide for the Australians kind of took over and brought us to another bar. The movie Rocky IV was playing on a tv. Fun place.

Later moved to a more dancy place called Be Bop, with M, one of the Australian guys I met at the hostel, also traveling solo. Music playing was quite good, better than I have heard "out" in a while, and much of the crowd was foreign. Was talking to some Irish people, one an equally devoted Leonard Cohen fan. Somehow made conversation with some French guys who really wanted to talk despite knowing almost no English and I knowing no French.

R.E.M. -- Departure

Let's have another round for the bright red devil who keeps me in this tourist town

August 22, 2010

The last full day in Barcelona, and the actual day for A's birthday. His birthday technically took place early in the morning of the 22nd, but at this point I had been asleep for about an hour.

The actual birthday was celebrated with cake, a photo book for him, and then a trip to Barcelonetta for paella (two kinds, one was black with squid's ink, the other was traditional with shrimp and mussels etc.) We´re doing a lot of eating in Barcelona, no? I learned during this meal that he had once been a VJ on television in India when he was a teenager. Well how about that!

We walked along the beach (topless women and completely naked old men everywhere to be seen) to the W Hotel , where everybody passed out for about 15 minutes on sofas, exhausted from the sun, and heavy with food. This was followed by a cabride to a circular hotel rooftop with a view of the city.

Said goodbye to A and E, thanked them for a great weekend, took another nap, woke up for some more tapas, and prepared for a very, very early morning to catch a train to San Sebastian.

Joni Mitchell -- Carey

Barcelona -- How Can I Forget?

August 21, 2010

Saturday (this day about which I am now trying very hard to remember the details) was A's (the A who lives in Barcelona permanently) birthday eve, and the day where most of the celebration took place.

It began with a walk over to A and E's current rented apartment, some food and drink there, and then a walk to their new apartment they have recently purchased and are in the process of renovating, painting. I couldn´t help but be too impressed by the fact that they were actually doing the work themselves rather than hiring someone else. From here, the metro to the Arc de Triumf, built in 1888, down a very sunny boulevard, into the Parc de la Ciutadella, Barcelona's largest park.

I ate an ice cream sandwich, we found a shady place to stop (I at this point had no idea what would happen next -- no one was giving me any clues), and the Finnish people pulled out this box full of wooden cylinders numbered 1 to 12, along with a 13th, unnumbered cylinder. We spent the next half an hour to 45 minutes playing a Finnish game that involved throwing the larger unnumbered cylinder at the other 12, scoring points based on either the number of cylinders knocked over, or the number on the cylinder knocked over (if only one was hit). I was not very good at this game (duh, it involved aim and coordination), but I liked it.

Around this time we heard a police siren and commotion -- a pickpocket had been chased through the park, once cornered the pickpocket had threatened the police with a bicycle lock and then finally having been captured was beaten on the head by the police.

From here a walk to the Born neighborhood, near the Santa Maria Del Mar church (one of my most distinctly remembered memories of previous trips to Barcelona), had some Rose Cava in a nearby bar, and then desserts at Bubo, which in 2005 had won an award for best chocolate cake in the world. Some more walking around Barcelona (overheard a girl talk about how she had been pickpocketed -- this made me nervous), stopped for ice cream, and then stopped for a few hours for a nap.

Went out to dinner for A's birthday at a Southeastern French style restaurant which, like all the other restaurants in Barcelona, was excellent. Lobster gazpacho, duck steak, chocolate mousse dessert, cava, everything really delicious, but filling.

This was followed by a bar where all of A´s friends in Barcelona showed up, pictures of lions and other African wildlife on the walls.

Queen -- Barcelona

So We Drink Spanish Wine

August 20, 2010

I am told that most of the cava (Spanish sparkling white wine) is made in one town, Sant Sadurni, just a short train ride from Barcelona. It was in this town that most of my Friday was spent. It is a hilly town, and a somewhat steep walk from the train station to the market where we bought ham, cheese, foie gras (I have been eating more of this in the last few weeks than most normal years of my life), sparkling water, and then a bit more walking to the winery where we would be purchasing and then drinking this famous cava.

And it was quite fine indeed. The people who owned the winery had two very small children who ran around in circles playing, and who seemed very sweet, until they started yelling at us. The cava was quite delicious and refreshing, almost too much so -- on a hot day it is hard to stop.

The train ride back was sleepy, understandably, and followed by going out to dinner in Barcelona (sadly can´t remember the name of the place, as it was good). We shared a huge plate of snails, and my entree was this big iron bowl of heavy, but delicious soup that I was tragically and uncharacteristically not able to finish, due to being stuffed to point of bursting with food and wine.

Lloyd Cole -- Why I Love Country Music

Your lipstick is thick but Paris is gone

August 19, 2010

Stupidly, the timing of my 11:20 a.m. train to Barcelona allowed me to feel overconfident in my ability to wake up, pack, and get out of the apartment on time. Worst of all, after descending the stairs to leave the building (Julien had left a few hours earlier for Brittany), I discovered that I no longer remembered how to open the door from the inside. It took me a few minutes fumbling around until I noticed the button on the wall that would automatically open the door.

And then, despite having stayed in the neighborhood for days, I could hardly remember how to navigate my way to the metro stop. And then I discovered that the stop where I had to change lines was shut down. So I had to get out of the metro and run full speed with two heavy bags to make it to Gare De Lyon. BUT...I did make it, and completely sweaty got on the train to Barcelona.

Through Montpelier, the train ride was excellent, read, listened to music, sent blackberry messages, oh such good times. At Montpelier, got off the train and went to a Mcdonalds (I know, I know, not good, but I wanted something quick). I mention this because it was at this Mcdonalds that I had my very first Royale With Cheese.

The Spanish train was not so nice, less clean, less pleasant crowd, bumpier, but it worked.

Felt slightly jarred to be back in Barcelona after just 15 or so months, and to be visiting for a third time, but got used to it quickly. The weather went from pleasant to rainy very quickly, but for once, I had an umbrella (as I bought one in Paris). A´s flight had not yet arrived, so I sat in a cafe for about half an hour and rested, before meeting up at the Starbucks near the Universitat metro station. From here, walked in the rain to A´s (the birthday celebrant) and E´s apartment, not so far away. Meeting them for the first time, and very pleasant at that, as they were two extremely kind, warm and fun Finnish people. We walked to dinner (don´t remember the name of the restaurant, but it was remarkably good, AND well priced). For something like 125 Euro everybody had an appetizer, dinner and dessert, as well as two shared bottles of wine. I had monk fish in a parsley sauce and calamari.

This was followed by a martini bar nearby called Dry Martini Bar. The martini I had was described as "muy seco" y "muy fuerte" by the waiter, which indeed it was. On the wall was an electronic counter listing how many martinis had been sold. I think at the time it had recently surpassed one million.

A.C. Newman -- Better Than Most

The Angels Make Sure That Our Hearts Are Devoured, Make Us Jump From The Eiffel Tower

August 16, 2010

Since I have been to Paris twice before, I feel not the need to see too many touristy spots (although surely there are many, many that I have not yet seen), and much for free to just relax, which is what I've been doing here.

I enjoyed on Monday doing laundry (FINALLY -- SERIOUSLY THAT SITUATION WAS READY TO BE TAKEN CARE OF!), and eating toasted baguette jam and butter and coffee, even though it was raining outside. Jeez Louise it's been raining everywhere I go!

For our one touristy event of the day, we went to the Pere-Lachaise cemetery, where many famous people are buried. Which did we see?: Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf, Jim Morrison, Richard Wright. Here's a photo in front of Oscar Wilde's grave:

(see it was raining)

Then we went to Gare du Nord to buy me a ticket for Barcelona on Thursday.

Later we went to dinner at a Mexican place in the Marais, and then sangria nearby. There was a tap class taking place next door. The class used umbrellas.

Julien wants me to make it clear that I'm having a super good time in Paris so far, even though I got really sick Monday night -- diagnosis unknown, and I'm better now -- and it is true that I am, having a really good time, that is.

Jens Lekman -- Julie

We Came Down From the North/Blue Hands And a Torch/Red Wine and Food For Free/A Possibility

August 15, 2010

A few things first:

1: My effort to record each of the events of the day has made it difficult to also make any "big picture" observations about what I'm doing, or seeing, how it is making me feel, or how the experience is changing over time. In fact, I think that it is because I have not been writing those things down here, I have also been considering them less often

2: Typing on a French keyboard is really really difficult. Not just a fez but many of the letters, characters and numbers are not where they belong. It hurts both my brain and my hands, probably in the way it feels for a left handed person being forced to operate as a righty.

3: It is shocking how quickly I forget anecdotes that took place as recently as 2 to 3 days previous. When I get a few days behind on this (as I am now), small but possibly significant bits of my day get left out.

There isn't a whole lot to say about Sunday besides that it was mostly unpleasant (until the end), and caused me somewhat to question my decision to travel primarily by train. I made my 7:45 a.m. train in CPH after my big night out Saturday, made the reverse journey to Hamburg (again had to get off the ferry -- was not in the mood to have my sleep interrupted), and then a long, very crowed, and slow trip to Cologne, Germany, most of the time spent clutching my bags, drifiting in and out of sleep, reading Infinite Jest, and watching the batteries on my iPod and Blackberry drain. The final train from Cologne to Paris was pretty good, although the lady working at the cafe in the food car was very gruff, and due to a delay on the previous train, I had to sprint through the train station to make it. I also felt strangely full from the time I woke up, and thus only ate some gummy bears until about 6, when I had a grilled ham and cheese sandwich and an espresso on the train.

But life got better as soon as I got off the train and my dear French friend Julien (became aquainted in 2005 through my brother, who had met him during a semester in Washington, D.C., our nation's capitol). Headphones still on his head, hair shorter than the last time I had seen him in 2006, he says "Dooood! You've changed!", which I believe referred to my haircut. We took a short metro to his apartment near Republique (nice location!), had a glass of wine and stepped out again for dinner nearby -- steak tartare, salad and Freedom Fries. And discussed his very recent 2 week trip to Iceland (had arrived that same day, saw a lot of the same stuff I have seen over the years, including Askja!), the last 4 years of music we've been listening to and what the heck has happened in our lives. Good times.

The Knife -- We Share Our Mother's Health

Let's Meet In Kristiania Next Summer

August 14, 2010

It was good fortune for me that theweather on Friday, when we spent the day mostly outside, on a boat tour, etc., was good. Because it rained all day on Saturday, which if anything, was bad news. The good news for Saturday was twofold: Emilia (Eva's and my friend from Iceland) had arrived for a week (I would only see her for a day) and we would be staying that night in her aunt's very fancy apartment in the city center. It rained so much on the way there, but the bus dropped us close by.

There was a balcony, a shower with unlimited hot water, Coronas in the fridge (I like them despite the nearly universal European scorn for them), an outdoor heater, and Danish salami. I worried though, that the rain would thwart plans for the day.

I had heard of the Free State of Christiania, a small town in the middle of Copenhagen, occupied mostly by hippie types and supposedly ungoverned by the Danish government, and felt that it was my duty as a tourist to make a visit. The entrance had a sign that said "Welcome to Christiania" on one side and "You are now entering the E.U" on the other. It was raining, but the streets were still busy with pedestrians, vendors selling hash, people cooking food on grills for sale (I bought a hot dog with lots of chili sauce from one), outdoor bars. More dreadlocks than anywhere else I visited in Copenhagen, but also a fairly pleasant atmosphere.

The bus ride back to Emilia's place was slow for all the traffic, and the rain was now coming down very hard. Emilia had already started preparing dinner, and the fourth of the group, a Mexican guy named Juan, arrived soon. We chatted on the balcony, listened to music, and wondered when the rain would stop. Dinner was chicken in Jack Daniels BBQ sauce, grilled potatoes and salad, with grilled sausages for dessert.

The 4 of us took a cab to a bar called Jolene. I recall that the bathrooms (I think there were many) were nested within a labyrinth of white doors -- I would open door after door until I found one that was a bathroom. There was a map of the world, maybe in lights, on the wall. I don't think we were home until 5. The first of my connecting trains to Paris zould be leaving at 7:45 a.m.

[It just so turns out that the rainstorm I described was unusually intense for Copenhagen. Watch this video. I met some folks from Malmo, Sweden (very close to Copenhagen) a few days later, and they most definitely concurred that cats and dogs were raining).

Fiery Furnaces -- Tropical Iceland

Kun For Mig

August 13, 2010

On Friday morning, Eva walked to the center of town in her suburb for breakfast. I think she was semi horrified at my choice of strawberry donut and cupcake for breakfast, but I thought those tasted rather refreshing.

Once again, the bus and train ride into Copenhagen was lengthy, but I think we entertained ourselves well enough with chit chat. My memory isn't so sharp on this but I think it was around 2 by the time we were on the train, and there were already teenagers on there drinking beer and being rowdy. Activities for the day:

1) Took a very good suggestion and visited the Mikkeller Brewery in Vestbro, ranked by some as the best brewery in Denmark. Despite it being the bartender's first day, he was extremely helpful for me in picking out delicious (although strong -- 9 %? Really?!) beers. Eva does not drink beer. When he gave her a sample of a kriek (sweet cherry beer) I was sure she was going to like it, but no, you should have seen the look on her face when she tasted it, like she had just had a sip of bleach! She ordered an apple juice instead, which though I didn't try it, looked good. Highly recommend this place, including the cold sausages they sell. We walked through the former red light district to get there. Not SOOO seedy.

2) Tivoli. Most famous amusement park in Denmark, second oldest musement park in the world, very popular for the tourists, across the street from the main train station. I decided to skip the rides, since I didn't feel like throwing up Belgian beer and sausage and pickle and donut, but they looked like fun. We also bought ice cream and looked at fish in the lake. Very happening spot. We also bought tickets for the Medina concert that night to be held in Tivoli.

3) Walked down Strøget, the longest pedestrian street in the world (shopping street, but we didn't buy anything). Once again noticed that everyone was eating ice cream and that all the girls were pregnant, even more so than they are in Iceland.

4) Boat tour of the city starting in Nyhavn (a harbor tucked into the city that allows boats to get closer to the city center). Was very impressed by the tour guide's ability to conduct the tour in Danish, English and German. And amused by the big group of very drunk Danes (aged 40-50) in the back of the boat. We went past the Opera House, some very nice apartments, a family of 4 that was swimming completely naked in the harbor, Hans Christian Anderson's old apartment, many military ships and the location where the Little Mermaid statue once stood (but is now on loan in Shanghai). Particularly hilarious was when a drunk Danish guy got kicked off the boat for urinating off the back.

5) Walked back to Tivoli for the Medina concert. Medina is one of the biggest stars in Denmark, and has been referred to as the "Danish Lady Gaga". Very pop style music, danceable, great stage presence. The crowd was packed tightly, and everyone seemed to know all the words. We ate burgers at a restaurant in Tivoli (Valhalla Borgen) beforehand.

6) Walked back to the Irish Rover. Not a lot happening, but there was an Irish guy playing guitar who did a cover of Johnny Cash's version of Nine Inch Nail's "Hurt". Very drunk guy tried to talk to us, unclear whether he may have been Icelandic based on reference to Hafarfjordur.

7) Walked to one of the two Icelandic bars in Copenhagen, which I thought was very lively but Eva thought was slow. Music was extremely good (Pixies, Pulp, Justice, Cure...best I have heard "out" in a while), people were dancing, and everyone speaking Icelandic. I liked.

8) Took the bus home, where I slept.

Medina -- Kun For Mig (I was considering using reference to the phone message refering to The Little Mermaid discussed in this episode of This American Life but opted against)

Hey, It's Ice Cream, No, Not Coke

August 12, 2010

Before I came here, I told Eva that she did not need to take any time off work because I would need at least a day to wander around town looking at the tediously touristy sights that I was sure she did not feel the need to see again. Still, she took off a day and a half, which was very kind. The first half of this day was the part where she was still at work.

While she got up for work at 5:30 a.m. (I did not even notice this happening), I did not wake up until about 8:00 a.m. I am somewhat surprised at myself that after years of hardly ever even changing more than 2 zip codes over, I have been waking up in a different place every 1-3 nights and it does not feel so unusual or disruptive. I am also somewhat surprised and disturbed that my sleeping problems over the last year or two do not seem to have gone away. I held myself over for breakfast with a handful of All Bran spilled into my hand (after years of not eating it, I forgot that I used to enjoy cereal very much), slid past the small dog that sits outside the door to the garage, the attic of which I am staying in, and got on the bus and then train for the approximately hour long journey from Eva´s place in the suburbs to Copenhagen. I got off at Norrebro Station.

And I followed a very good suggestion to try out Ricco´s Coffee, supposedly the best coffee place in Copenhagen (I did not go to the Vestbro location, however, because it was not convenient for what I would be doing that day). It was very good coffee, but then again, a lot of the coffee I´ve had (not all!) has been pretty bad or at least just not what I had in mind, so this was a welcome change. And a croissant. There was a guy working there who seemed to be American, had tattoos on his face and was very loud. At first I felt envious of this guy´s ability to just pick up and move somewhere else and become integrated into the society, but then I realized that he had failed to transcend his typically American loudness so maybe he wasn´t so impressive after all.

From there, I walked to the National Museum, and guess what, it was probably my favorite museum experience of the trip so far. First of all, it was free. Second, I mostly stuck around an exhibit about prehistoric Denmark, which had all these super awesome artifacts like flint and bronze tools, swords from the B.C. days, an ancient ship, some dead peoples skeletons that had been buried, remains of some peoples´clothing, some old rocks, and best of all, very clear and thorough explanations in English for everything, as well as for the evolution of human culture in that region from the hundreds of thousands of years ago days through about 500 A.D.

Then I bought another hot dog, this time of a slightly different variety than the one I bought the night before, and from the currywurst I had the previous afternoon in Bremen train station.

And then, the Rundetaarn (Round Tower). In central Copenhagen, it´s a major touristy attraction. Instead of a narrow spiral staircase as in most of the cathedrals, it has a wide spiraling incline on the inside that makes it easier to walk. I kept thinking that it would be fun to ride a bike up it. Fun or maybe I´m getting too ambitious. Halfway up the tower there was an exhibit for the African artist Tingtinga (who apparently is much less famous than I had imagined -- it took me forever just to find this link on him).
Here is a picture from the top of the Round Tower:

Here is a picture of the interior (see how the floor curves):

I walked from there to the Rosenborg Slot (Rosenborg Castle), which was heavily guarded buy Danish dudes in military uniforms. Because the entry was expensive, I decided to not go in and instead sit in the huge park outside and read.

I met up with Eva for lunch and the following things happened:

1) I ordered the "American Burger" and it had jalepenos, salsa and guacamole on it and it was served with nachos. Tasted good but didn't seem particularly U.S.A.

2) There was a pigeon who kept flying inside and going crazy!

3) It started raining very heavily outside.

4) A waitress carrying milk bumped into our waiter and spilled milk everywhere.

Really good lunch though.

Eva and I then walked to where she gets haircuts (from an Icelandic lady) and I got one. Here is a picture of me before the haircut (the after picture is later):

We followed this with a drink at the Irish Rover (I tried the cider/Guinness combo recommended by the guy I met on the train from Copenhagen --not bad), and started to notice that there seemed to be a lot of Navy types in town although we couldn't figure out which Navy.

After this an ice cream -- since everyone in Copenhagen seems to be eating ice cream all the time, even if it is raining (which it was).

Finally, we met up with my friend Anders, whom I met 14 years ago as a junior in high school, and haven't seen since the end of that year. There was some catching up to do. Good to see you Anders! Here he is (also serves as an "after" haircut photo:

Fiery Furnaces -- Tropical Iceland

We Can Reach Our Destination, But We´re Still a Ways Away

August 11, 2010

This day had one purpose: getting from Groningen to Copenhagen, where I am staying for a few days with my dear Icelandic friend Eva. This was accomplished, although it took many hours more than anticipated (anticipated hours = about 9).

I caught my 8:20 a.m. train to Leer. Missing my 9:42 a.m. train to Bremen because i misread my itinerary. Made a 10:42 train to Oldenburg and then an 11:35 a.m. train to Bremen (phew made it to Bremen on time). Ate a currywurst (chopped up sausage with ketchup, with a piece of bread on the side). But then, bad news! my train to Hamburg was delayed 20 minutes, which meant that I would be missing my connecting train to Copenhagen! In Hamburg I changed my reservation at no additional cost, and made my 3:25 p.m. train to Copenhagen.

This train ride was pretty complicated. Once we had to switch trains because the one we were one was broken. Then the train drove onto a ferry, we got off, walked on deck, moved across the sea for about half an hour, and got back on the train (no one told me about this!), and then the rest of the train ride to Copenhagen. On the ride from Hamburg, starting about 2 hours in, I spoke to this English guy Mark, who worked in IT, in Hamburg, traveled all the time for work, and had some good stories about South Africa.

Eva picked me up at the train station at about 8:40 p.m., 2 hours and 40 minutes later than i had planned to arrive, but I was happy to see her, a familiar face, etc. We got hot dogs outside the train station (very different from in Iceland...with pickles, but with a similar remoulade sauce, smaller bun...I like). Because she lives kind of far from city center, we then took a train and two buses to get to her apartment.

Here I am.

R.E.M. -- Driver 8

I Should Know, I Looked All Over Town

August 10, 2010

Were I more diligent, I would right now get out of bed, look through my backpack for the walking tour guide I used yesterday in Groningen, list each of the various sights around town that I visited, and tell you what my observations were for each of those sights. But I´m tired, I´ve been traveling all day, and I think I´m going to keep it brief.

Breakfast was, again, mediocre. But again, I wasn´t so hungry so it didn´t matter. That is, it consisted of slices of bread, slices of ham, cheese, and some prepackaged spreads, and coffee served in super small mugs.

I stopped by the tourist office and for 1.50 euro bought a map with a walking tour of the city.

The touristy highlight of the walking tour was the Martinitoren, the big church tower near the city center. I climbed up, and looked down at the city. The guy working at the gate was excited to hear that I was from Los Angeles, as he is going to a film school program soon in New York. He told me that the nightclubs in Groningen are amazing. I, however, did not go to any of them.

The city is full of students, according to Wikipedia, something like 50,000, so everyone is young looking. Which was a refreshing change after the other cities I´ve been, where everyone looked very old. I walked through that square, the fish market, through several courtyards in long ago days used as hospices for the sick and insane, and had lunch at a pub, the oldest in Groningen. I had an omelette, which was good.

But there was nothing that I really wanted to shop for, I didn´t feel like going to a museum. So I went back to the room for a nap.

For dinner, I had a kebab on Poelestratt, which made my mouth water.

Later, I was walking through the rain and passed by an Irish pub that looked friendly enough, and not so crowded, so I went in. I find it funny that, while being as not Irish as one can be, I still found the place more familiar, and more comforting than any public place I´ve been in days, as it so much reminded me of other places I´ve been in the US and A. The bartender was a half Irish, half Dutch lady, with a very good taste in music, which she was playing off of youtube. She suggested that I come back to Groningen for the Noordezon Festival, which actually sounds pretty good (a few bands I´m familiar with are playing -- Health and the Low Anthem!)

There´s such a fine line traveling alone between being completely bored and having a really nice time. It only takes 1-2 good people to talk to, but they aren´t as easy to find as everybody keeps telling me they will be.

The Magnetic Fields -- "I Looked All Over Town"

Just another town, another train, nothing lost and nothing gained, guess I will spend my life in railway stations

August 9, 2010

To clarify:

1. The titles of the posts shouldn't be taken literally as how I'm feeling. They are just song lyrics.

2. My tone over the past week in the Netherlands may have been inadvertently negative. To clarify, while I'm having a lot less fun here by myself than I was in Iceland, Finland, Switzerland and England staying with friends and family, while I don't sleep as well in shared hostel rooms as I do in real beds in bedrooms, and while admittedly I think the Netherlands are, at least superficially, a little on the boring side, I'm actually enjoying myself overall. I'm relaxing during the day, I don't feel as much pressure to accomplish anything big (big hikes, big nights out, etc.), I'm catching up on my reading, and I'm getting a sense of what these places are like. If this last week had been my sole vacation of the year, working extra for a month before and a month after in order to make it possible, I probably would'have been disappointed. Rather, as one slightly less ridiculously amazing week out of a several month trip, I'm not at all concerned.

On to yesterday, and I think I am going to try to keep it relatively short.

I woke up a bit after the Australians, who had already showered and breakfasted when I was staggering out of bed. I was glad to have them as roommate though -- if I had friendly/fun/funny folks like that every night in the hostels, the whole experience would be much better. My waking up a little later had the unfortunate consequence in causing me to miss the 9:30 a.m. bus to the Texel/Den Burg ferry by 5 minutes.

My missing that bus had the fortunate consequence of my meeting a traveling couple from the Canary Islands, a lawyer and his girlfriend (both older than I am! and I am directing this comment to people who say that I either a) am too old or b) make too much money to stay in hostels). The guy started asking me a question about the bus in English, we continued on that way a bit until he didn't understand something I said, so I switched to Spanish, which we continued for the next 4 or so hours. Although my Spanish isn't great, I do enjoy practicing with people who are friendly and patient. Although I must admit, the Canary Island accent/manner of speaking was tough for me to understand and a few times I had to ask him to slow down. Still, he seemed to understand everything I said (in contrast to everything that comes out of my mouth in Icelandic, which seems to sound like utter gibberish to native speakers).

I had been planning on taking the train to Amsterdam and then to Groningen (really out of the way, but I couldn't see another way using trains), but they convinced me (or their plans convinced me) to follow them on the bus to Sneek where they were staying, take the relatively short train ride from there to Gronginen.

This was a good idea -- while I think it ultimately took longer this way, it was pretty cheap, and I didn't have to use one of my 15 travel days on my Eurrail pass. And I had good company for a few hours. And we took the bus along a long causeway (maybe 20-30 km?) that was sort of neat. And pretty. Fortunately for them, where the bus let us off was about 50 meters from the Stayokay hostel where they would be staying. And about a 20 minute walk to the train station. But just so the fact isn't lost in all of this, check out all the different types of transportation I used:

1. Bus from hostel to ferry.

2. Ferry from Texel to Den Burg.

3. Bus from Den Burg to Den Oever.

4. Change buses on the other side of the causeway, bus to Sneek.

5. Train from Sneek to Leeuwarden.

6. Train from Leeuwarden to Groningen.

I arrived in Groningen at around 5 or so, obtained reservations for my train to Copenhagen and then for my train to Paris (nice to have this taken case of, and again, not too expensive). Oh and real quick, Groningen is in Friesland, in North Eastern Netherlands, there is a Frisian dialect that some people speak that is different from Dutch -- I haven't heard anyone speak it yet.

The Friesland Hotel was very easy to find -- as has been everything in Groningen. I think Groningen has been the easiest city to navigate, even more so than smaller places. The hotel is great, super simple, room is big enough, clean, sink in the room (although bathroom is outdoors and shared), location is super central but on a quiet street. I asked the owner/guy at the desk what I should do, and he recommended that I eat at Wagamama (strange suggestion I thought), and told me of how he once lived in the U.S. for many years, an American wife, who is now his American ex wife. He had little bits of paint on his face and clothes, which I thought made him seem more trustworthy.

Wagamama was fine, I had been missing it for years, having really enjoyed it in London back in 2000. Except there was a bee that kept buzzing around my food, and these three really loud guys sitting on a bench nearby that kept screaming, and thus I kept looking over to see what they were screaming about, and then one of them looked at me and asked why I kept looking at him. I drank a 750 mL bottle of sparkling water along with a bowl of soup.

Updated blog at an internet cafe not so far from the hotel (nothing is), although the connection was super slow (it's a miracle that I uploaded all those pictures in the previous entry).

I went out a bit later for a drink and reading Infinite Jest at Belgisch Cafe de Pintelier (to find it required some exploration through town, which was, again, really easy to navigate, clean, pretty, and (as one of my friends informed me about Groningen) people are much more attractive here on average than the rest of the Netherlands). Again, good work Lonely Planet for suggesting a good place to go!

For my first night in a solo hotel in a few days, and a much nicer one than the Hotel Nadia in Amsterdam, I slept well.

I like Groningen (which, if you didn't know -- I didn't -- is pronounced completely ridiculously...the "G"in the beginning is pronounced like almost like a Hebrew "ch" but almost throatier, and the "n"at the end is silent), even though I'm a little bored still.

ABBA -- Another Town, Another Train

I'm trying! I'm trying too hard! I'm not sleeping at all

August 8, 2010

My plan for this day was to take my rented bike on a perimeter ride of the island. I didn't quite make it around the entire island, but I saw quite a bit of Texel, and it was a good day.

But when I woke up, once again, I felt pretty bad. Didn't sleep well, and probably didn't drink enough water before going to sleep. In fact, I slept past the Stayokay breakfast time (ends at 9:30 a.m.), but I wasn't so hungry anyway. Instead I rode the bike into town (Den Burg) and had coffee, a glass of water and this delicious apple pastry at a bakery. And I bought a strawberry frosted donut for later. I wanted to buy some snacks and water for my bike trip; I circled around the entire town before I could find something even resembling a market. When I did though, I was surprised to find a grocery store around the edge of town. It was huge! And had everything! So I bought a red bull, a bottle of water, and some Haribo gummy worms.

The first leg of the trip was from Den Burg (in the center of town) to Oudeschild, on the east coast. I rode past sheep, cows, horses, growing crops, super scenic stuff. And was feeling really good, even though the bike was not the most efficient. At once point I saw this strange animal -- what is it?????:

Here's a picture of some cattle around the entrace to Oudeschild:



At the coast there was a big green hill separating the sea from the road. Here's a picture of it. There were sailboats in the distance too:


There was also a windmill in town. I saw several of these over the course of the day:

The trip to De Cocksdorp (funny name, right? I thought so, as did the only 2 native English speakers I met at the hostel) was much more difficult (note that I carefully avoid saying that it was "harder") than I had anticipated, with the wind and the not so great bike, even though the path was mostly flat. So much more difficult that I diverted from of the perimeter path to some of the interior roads as they were more direct. De Cocksdorp itself was unimpressive in my opinion, but this may have been due to my timing -- something like a parade seemed to be starting when I was leaving. I sat at a cafe and ordered what seemed to be the special (menu all in Dutch, waiter wasn't friendly enough to ask him what everything meant)...ended up being what looked like a split roll with melted cheese on it, fresh tomatoes, a slice of pineapple, some salami. Which is pretty delicious and satisfying for someone as hungry as I was. And ice cream for dessert. My eyes got extremely itchy during lunch, and I stupidly rubbed them. It took a good while before I was able to open them again, as they hurt so much.

It had been my intention to visit the ferry station near De Cocksdorp and ask about the possibility of a ferry ride from Texel to the next of the Frisian Islands, Vlieland, and then take a ferry to Haarlingen, on the mainland, and then a train to Grongingen. When I finally made it to the northernmost bit of the island and asked about this, I learned that it was not possible. So I continued riding to the lighthouse, and stopped for a minute to look at the nearby beach. Here is a picture of the lighthouse.


It cost money to go in so I opted against.

Because I could not easily find the beach on the west coast of the island, I took other roads back to Den Burg down the middle of the island, stopping briefly at the airport (it exists!) to watch some small planes taxi around a big grass field. Also watching this was a group of Chasidic Dutch teenagers.

On the way home, I saw a horse that looked like a cow. Here is a picture of it I took with my blackberry phone. Doesn't it look like a cow even though it is a horse???????:

After calculating the length of the whole trip on Google Maps I found it to be approximately 35 kilometers (approximately 22 miles). Not much, but again, the bike was heavy and kind of sucked.

Back in Den Burg I was very tired, took a shower, went downstairs to update blog and returned to my room to find that two people had moved in, and they were there! Australians from Perth! A couple named Cheyne and Julie! What a relief to talk to someone who speaks English as a first language! We spoke for a good while, laughed, shared some travel stories! They were using the same Lonely Planet Europe that I was using! We decided to go out for a bite to eat in Den Burg (they were only interested in dessert, but I was okay with this idea -- eating dessert instead of real food when really hungry could be pretty delicious) -- but after walking down every street in the town we learned that nothing was open, except for a little window called the "Snack Bar." They each ordered popsicles, and I got some sort of hot sandwich and fries. I still don't know what was in the sandwich, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't meat. It wasn't bad.

We returned to the hostel, had a few beers served by the Australian guy who works there, returned to our room (there was no one else in the 6 person room, which was nice, and for the first time I had a bottom bunk, oh, I also finally figured out a way to put the duvet (?) in the duvet cover not completely crooked, so I was much more comfortable than I had been the previous few nights), and said goodbye. I put my iPod in my ears and listened to an Intelligence Squared podcast from many many months ago debating Obama's economic policies. I fell asleep before it finished.

Just to go off the narrative for a bit, has anyone been listening to Robyn's new album Body Talk Part 1? I just can't get enough of it, thank golly I downloaded it before I left. And the new single from Body Talk Part 2 ("Hang With Me") is just as good. I hope that when I get back to the states she's as big time there as she deserves to be. If you haven't already, give it a listen, and also "Dancing on My Own", which I've heard is actually about being a ghost.

Kukl -- Holland (Latent)

I have to tell him his commands all in Dutch

August 7, 2010

The last time I took a long trip in Europe, I met a guy who, if I recall correctly, claimed to be from the Frisian Islands. Or maybe he was from near there. I really can't remember, but it got in my head that I needed at some point to visit the Frisian Islands. Which is where I am right now. The Frisian Islands are more or less in the northernmost part of the Netherlands, and Maastricht (where I woke up) was in more or less the southernmost. So there was a long journey ahead.

I woke up yesterday morning feeling pretty bad. I had gone to sleep too late, had had probably one too many from the Take One bar, and these German teenagers in my room got up early and were loud, and generally unlikeable. I can't really blame them, and I needed to get up early, but still. I had yet another mediocre breakfast, and wasn't interested in getting another piece of not-that-good bread and not-that-good coffee and not-that-good cheese down.

I stopped at a market. I had run out of toothpaste, my toothbrush was completely smashed (and thus semi-useless), I had no soap (the previous day I had stolen shampoo from the German guys and used it as soap). So I bought these things. Except I bought conditioner by mistake instead of shampoo and had to return it. Reminded me of the time freshman year of college where I did the same thing, and couldn't figure out for a month why my hair was so soft, yet still so greasy.

When I was on the Laugavegurinn hike, a Dutch man suggested several places for me to visit in the Netherlands. Without even considering his credibility, I let him draw me a map of those places and put it on my itinerary to visit them. That's how I ended up in Maastricht. The next place on his list was 's-Hertogenbosch (also recommended to me by a friend of mine in response to a facebook requests for interesting places to visit in the Netherlands). It's another old medieval city, home of Hieronymous Bosch, the painter that I'm sure you all know and love.

I walked from the train station to the market (which is pretty big -- from some paintings I saw in the museum, it looks like it has been used continuously since the middle ages). I bought some fried fish with a chili sauce and three cream puffs for lunch. Here's a picture that I stole from wikipedia of the square and a picture I took of the delicious fish I ate for lunch:






























As any good tourist would, I then walked to the biggest church in town, St. John's cathedral, and sat through a bit of the service. When the guy came around with the money basket, I got up quickly.

Then I went to the Noordbrabants Museum (I skipped the Bosch museum because I was told that everything there was a replica). The art from Hertogen Bosch was kind of "eh" but was interesting insofar as it showed what the town looked like back in the day. There were other things that I liked there, but I am not going to bore myself now by listing them.

Got on the train again, and mostly slept for the 2-3 hour journey to Den Helder, the northernmost town on the Dutch mainland before the islands. When I got off the train, it was raining, and I feared it would continue to rain the next day, when I had planned to go on a long bike ride. While waiting for the bus from the train station to the ferry, I spoke to a Dutch couple who live in Texel (the island I went to) and a German girl who was living in Texel for the purpose of running sky diving trips. I asked her if there was an airport in Texel and she said that yes, there was.

The ferry ride was short, maybe 25 minutes, foggy the whole way.

The bus ride from the ferry to the hostel (another Stayokay hostel) was short, maybe 20 minutes, foggy and rainy the whole way.

I checked into my room, and although none of the other 3 beds were occupied at the time, I could see from the clothing on the beds that I would be sharing the room with a family. I was not pleased.

I rented a bike, paid the extra 3 euro to get one with gears (after my poor performance on the fixed gear in Helsinki). The guy at the front desk (Australian) told me that while Den Burg (the town I am staying in) had restaurants, the better place for bars was De Koog was the place where the young people hang out. He also told me that the reason I am having trouble meeting people at the Stayokay hostels is that they are too nice. And that the better scenes are at the ones with bedbugs.

I got on the bike, and rode the 6.5 kilometers to De Koog, past sheep grazing, horses, fields of various growing crops. Very pretty, quiet, peaceful.

Parked my bike and had dinner at Bodega 59. Service was a little disappointing (I felt ignored), but the lamb I had (from Texel lambs!) and potatoes were really good. Not seeing anything particularly lively going on in town, I rode back (I had worried that I couldn't figure out how to turn on the light on the bike -- to my surprise and relief it turns on automatically).

When I got back to the hostel, the Australian guy at the desk told me that, when I reported that De Koog wasn't so lively, I had gone there was too early, and mostly people don't start heading out until 11 or 12. He suggested that I ride out there again. I was not going to do this. But he suggested a bar in Den Burg, The Slock, which was actually really good. Actually met and spoke to some friendly Dutch people, including an older guy from town, a butcher, who kept apologizing for not being able to speak English.

The German family with whom I shared the room was not happy when I returned and attempted to brush my teeth before going to bed.

Fiery Furnaces -- Bow Wow

Maastricht Time

August 6, 2010


Extremely busy day, although as you'll see, nothing fascinating going on.


1. Woke up in Amsterdam very tired, slept poorly.


2. Mediocre breakfast in the shared area. I remember these hostel breakfasts as being better, at least based on the last time I traveled. By mistake I spilled coffee all over the tray.

3. Walked to the train station and caught the first train to Maastricht. Spent the first half of the journey sleeping, read some more of Infinite Jest (maybe 200 pages in at this point...after about 3 weeks?)


4. Arrived in Maastricht at around noon. First impressions positive. Easy walk to the hostel. Pretty old buildings. Pretty river (the Meuse) running through. City walls and fortifications. Weather good. However, as typical of almost every city I've visited, all of the tourists were a lot older than me. The college crowd skipped Maastricht it looks like.


5. Another Stayokay hostel (this would be my second of 3). On first impressions, boring like the first one. Once again, the receptionist at the front desk gave me the speech about no food, beverages, alcohol or drugs allowed in the rooms, but of course if I wanted to bring in a bottle of water it would be okay. Families, unfriendly much younger people, some very eccentric looking much older people. I charged my blackberry while reading about the available activities in Maastricht. Apparently, there were many.


6. Walked through the city (squares full of people eating), fashion stores, etc. to Bar-Bistro Pieke Potloed for lunch, recommended for having "typical" Maastricht cuisine. Ate a bowl of mussell soup (now that I think about it, it may been mustard soup, because that's what it tasted like, but I heard mussell from the waitress), a sandwich with 3 types of fish -- the only one I could identify was smoked salmon, a Maastricht beer (white beer?) and a glass of Riesling. And a coffee. I sat on the patio, read more of Infinite Jest, and planned my next activity.


7. Which was a guided tour of Kazematten, a network of bunkers on the west side of Maastricht created between 1575 and 1825. According to the guide "During times of siege, these tunels were used to approach and surprise the enemy from under the ground. Visit the cleverly constructed vaulted chambers, the powder rooms and the imposing bombproof shelters and find out more about this unique monument of military engineering." I didn't "find out [that much] more" about Kazematten because to my surprise the only tour was in Dutch. It was pretty cheap, so I took it anyway. The tunnels were super cool though. Kind of chilly, damp, about 6 feet high (when I stood straight the top brushed the top of my hair), dark. I liked it. Towards the end, the guide (an Dutch man probably in his 70s who spoke almost no English) moved away for a few minutes with half of the group and asked those remaining if they could explain some of the highlights, which they did. One girl went so far as to translate what the guide was saying towards the end, which was very nice, but a little bit awkward. All of the others on the tour with Dutch, but none from Maastricht.


8. Basilica of St. Servatius. First building there in the 4th century, and this church was started in the 11th century. So Romanesque I guess. Impressive treasury, included bits of fabric from at least a thousand years ago, crosses, and goblets, etc. I sat for a bit to relax.


9. Stopped at the tourist office for more information and ran into one of the Dutch girls from the tour, the one who was translating for me. Since she works at the tourist office. And was only taking the tour to familiarize herself with the sights of Maastricht. She told me a story about how she did a 3 month internship in Holland, Michigan where she worked at a Dutch-themed theme park and had to wear wooden shoes and traditional dresses. She didn't enjoy that, but said the Americans loved it.


9. Came back to the hostel. Still silent. Wrote on this blog. Put the sheets on my bed, not wishing to repeat the unpleasant sleeping experience of the previous night. Nothing really going on, so went out on my own.

10. Had a kebab for dinner.

11. Checked out the two bars listed for Maastricht in the Lonely Planet. The first one didn't impress me so I migrated to the second, on the other side of the river, for Take One. While touristry in a strange way, I recommend this place. As soon as I approached and heard 1) English, 2) laughter, and 3) the bartender engaging with and amusing the patrons, I knew this would be good. The place is owned and run by a husband and wife, experts in beers, who recommend beers from all over Holland and Belgium (selection of over 100 I think). The guy claims to me a master of "insult as art", and insults the guests, and then cackles like the Reef in Nothing But Trouble. Great beers, and a lively atmosphere. Most of the bar was populated by some attendees of a math conference on matroids, I mostly spoke the Canadian math professor sitting next to me. Another guy, Dutch, gave me some advice on staying in the Frisian Islands. And then I went home.

Elvis Costell0 -- Strict Time

In the Amsterdam museum I was feeling bad, and looking for a way not to feel so sad

August 5, 2010

With only one full day left in Amsterdam I decided to be productive. At least so far as touristy activities go.

Again, I woke to rain.

Again, I had a mediocre breakfast, surrounded by mediocre people. There was a girl at the next table reading Philip Roth's American Pastoral, which I remember really liking, so maybe she wasn't totally mediocre, but maybe she was. I wouldn't know because I didn't really talk to her at all.

One of the best things about the Hotel Nadia is that it is located extremely close, even walkable by Los Angeles standards, to the Anne Frank House. When I visited Amsterdam in 2002, I decided not to visit the AFH, as I had the believe that 1) my time was limited, 2) I did not need to be reminded of the horrors of the Holocaust, 3) it seemed unseemly to be peering in at this little girl's life, and enjoying it in a vacationy context when she met such a bad end in the way she did. But in the following 8 years, I couldn't mention my visit to Amsterdam without being asked "did you go to the Anne Frank House?" And I'd have to give my explanation, which I always thought made me sound sort of callous and jerky. So I went this time. Waited in line for at least an hour (booked a place to stay in the Frisian Islands over the weekend), paid the 8.50 euros to get in, and walked through virtually empty room after virtually empty room, Anne Frank relics tacked up on the walls or in glass containers -- prayer books, newspaper cutouts, maps, photographs -- and large quotes from her diary on the walls. Most of the rooms also featured a 1-3 minute video interview with someone close to the Frank family.

I suppose I am more easily affected by these types of things than I let on to myself, as at several points I had to use some effort to avoid getting teary eyed in front of the other tourists. I don't need to explain why it is such a sad story.

Hotel Nadia didn't have a room for me Thursday night, so I had made reservations to stay that night at the Stayokay Hostel in central Amsterdam -- it was at this time that I transported my bags to the new hostel and checked in. In a word, it was a boring hostel. No bar (typically makes it easier to meet people). Most everybody super young (except for the group of super drunk Northern English guys and one of thems's father down fora bachelor party). Not a lot of energy, nor traffic. I left quickly.

And took a tram to the Museumplein. Grabbed a mediocre and overpriced omelette at a nearby cafe, and walked to the Stedelijk museum, which I had remembered being my favorite when I visited Amsterdam in 2002. It was closed for renovation until September or so. I walked next door to the Van Gogh Museum, as I had remembered really liking that too. Line way too long.

Walked to the Rijksmuseum, which I had also remembered liking. Big portion of it closed, and long line, but I decided this was good enough. I waited for about another hour, read some of Infinite Jest (this book is not easy for me to get through, although at times it actually is pretty funny). The portion of the colleciton that remained concerned the Dutch Golden Age, and I was happy with this -- The Night Watch, still lifes with bug covered fruit, pastoral landscapes, Rembrandt with a turban, Jan Steen households, Vermeer's Milkmaid, old guns and sabers, and a bunch of old fancy Deltware. Nice!

Wandered to Vondelpark, bought a bottle of sparkling water (don't want to get dehydrated again like last time in Amsterdam!) and sat in the park for about half an hour.

Walked to Sampurna for Indonesian food (which made me sick last time I was in Amsterdam). But this time I loved Indonesian food! It was spicy, it was sweet, it was delicious, and I was full!

After this, I walked back to the hostel to charge my phone (I use a lot of charge these days, texting, facebook, looking up directions, wikipedia, when I'm walking around). I sat for a while, reading, then spoke for a while to this girl from Germany/Alabama/Utah, she was shocked that I hadn't seen the red light district on this trip, we walked down there, I saw a prostitute run out of her window to scream profanities at some guy who had also just left. Chit chatted for an hour or so more, commented on the fact that our hostel was kind of boring, said goodbye and returned to my room of 15 people to sleep on the top bunk, with no sheets on the bed because the room was dark, and I was tired, and I didn't feel like putting them on.

Jonathan Richman -- Vincent Van Gogh

Dans le port d'Amsterdam, Y a des marins qui dorment, Comme des oriflammes, Le long des berges mornes

August 4, 2010

My goal for this day was to plan a train ride across Russia on the transsiberian railway. Specifically, I wanted to get the ball rolling on a Russian and Chinese visa, maybe find a travel agency to organize things for me, and maybe even purchase an airline flight home from the endpoint of the railroad. After several hours of working on this, I discovered that this trip would not be possible, and was thus freed to participate in other touristic activities, but have even less of a long term plan for the trip.

I woke up to the sound of heavy rain. Great.

Very unremarkable "included" breakfast of uninspired croissant, mediocre coffee in the breakfast area amongst unremarkable fellow travelers. I haven't owned an umbrella since mine was stolen in 2001 or so, and had forgotten about rain in Europe, so got poured on pretty hard on my walk from Hotel Nadia to the internet cafe near the train station that I used. I sat there, dry for hours, updating the blog, trying to find information about visas, including a location in Zeemarkt where supposedly I'd be able to get one.

I took a bus (of course, it took me a while to find the right bus) to around that location, read a disturbing article about the comedian Gallagher on the way on my blackberry (who knew!) Of course, I got off at the wrong stop, and walked for about half an hour until I found the address I had found on the website for the visa place. Except, the address was for something completely different (some sort of repairman). Confused, I called the company and asked about visas and was told by someone with a Russian accent that the embassy requires that visas for U.S. citizens to Russia must be obtained BEFORE leaving the United States. I tried calling a few other consulate offices to try to confirm this, but couldn't get in touch with them. All the same, this bad news was confirmed by some stuff I found online later.

Last night, I was talking to a girl I met at the hostel about traveling and she commented that she doesn't like to use travel guides, just wanders around the city and discovers things. "That doesn't work for me, I explained. Whenever I 'wander around the city', I end up either on a highway, in the harbor, or in a boring suburb, or in some industrial area. I never find anything good." She seemed to find this funny, but it's true. On my way back from the useless visa adventure, I tried walking to the spot where I'd be getting lunch, but just ended up getting lost and walking on a highway. Dangerous and not scenic.

I had lunch at Cafe Amsterdam, a spot recommended to me by one of the Dutch guys I met on Laugavegurinn, who claimed to work there. I believed that it would be a pleasant change of pace to go somewhere not in the Lonely Planet, the Dutch guy said it was really good and a good place to rest, and the picture on the website was attractive. This was a good decision. I sat at the bar, and was served by a pleasant server. I ordered some herring and a shot of super cold aquavit (recommended as a side by the menu) as an appetizer, and had a quite good excellent and fries with a beer for lunch. It felt great to sit, to stop worrying about trying to get to Russia. I wrote some post cards (hadn't written any in weeks). I recommend the place.

Tram back to the hotel and took a nap for about an hour. Woke up in a sweat and realized that I had left one of my books at the restaurant. So spent an hour getting back there and picking up the book. Tram back to city center looking for a place to eat dinner. Of course, couldn't find anything. Even tried to find a spot in the Lonely Planet, and was unsuccessful.

I gave up on finding something serious to eat, and stopped at the In De Wildeman pub, recommended by the Lonely Planet, and stuck in the middle of a terribly crowded tourist area. Ended up being also an excellent selection. Great beer choices, friendly staff, spoke briefly to two guys from Arhus, Denmark who were attempting to each try 20 different beers over their 4 day trip to Amsterdam. I think they were up to 16. The bar closed relatively early (1?), I walked back home, put some music on my portable speaker, ate some Icelandic licorice.

Jacques Brel -- Amsterdam