I'm excited -- the Tour de France is still in town after all, and I haven't missed it. I was just confused because a) they're doing time trials today about a half hour out of town before they start on the road again from Toulouse tomorrow morning, and b) my French is a little rusty, so when native Frenchians assume I can understand them, sometimes it all sounds like bloopity bloop bloooop, n'est pas? and I just smile and nod to avoid looking like I was an idiot for striking up a French conversation in the first place.
Fun links of the day: First here, then here.
I've been fantastically awful at keeping my end of the weblog up to date, limited computer availability notwithstanding. Sorry, folks. Whenever we're in Internet cafes, we need to spend a decent amount of time looking up travel info and dealing with emails before we can even think about postings. I'm also overwhelmed with all of the stories and places to share; I'm not sure where to start! I'll catch up as soon as I can.
Under the guise of being innovative and delightfully unconventional in my posting style, I'm going to save all sorts of time of covering the latest details by just pasting the email I just sent to Markus. We split up yesterday after visiting Rome and Cinque Terre over the past week, and I'm replying to an email he sent. Some details censored and omitted for your safety. Catch you guys later.
Yo Marky-Mark!
Glad to hear you made it to Munich -- I realized shortly after I jumped on the train out of Italy that we were at the wrong station in Genova. Stupid place has too many train stations and I assumed we were at the right one! I'm so proud that you spoke with those girls! Maybe you actually like girls after all! :O (Haha, you're thousands of miles from me... can't object, can't object!)
I was reading through the guidebooks like mad on the way to Nice (and I didn't intend on holding onto both, but the mad train rush didn't help; at least the Circus hostel should give you enough info on everything to see and do in Berlin), and decided I didn't want to stay in Nice after all, given our timeframe and that I'm a little beached and partied out. The best place to go sounded like Toulouse. I intended to take a night train once I got to Nice, but there was a tunnel that was closed off on the way to Nice, and we had to take a detour by bus, so I ended up missing the night train. Frantically managed to find a bed late night in Nice at a place mentioned in the guidebook, which turned out to be a nightmare...we're talking cockroaches, incredibly disgusting bathroom, and worst of all, the French! (Na, I'm just joshing those poor maligned French.)
Also met a girl from Ireland (Cork) that was super excited when I mentioned I would be there fairly shortly (at about the same time she gets home) and wants us to meet up with her and hang out with her in Cork. So, maybe we can do that, and I think she left it open to stay at her place. She seemed very cool but it was a bit odd how accomodating she was, even if I wasn't getting any sketchy mass-murderer vibes.
Anyway, caught a train to Toulouse this morning, and got to Toulouse today only to find out that the Tour de France's current stage ended IN Toulouse right about the time I arrived at the train station. I missed it, since I didn't know about it. Lance Armstrong's still in the lead, but just barely. And because of everyone in town, the only room I barely managed to grab is 40 Euros a night. Ah well, at least it's a sweet room.
Toulouse seems awesomely cool, though...120,000 students here (only about 600,000 total population), incredible culture and atmosphere, walkable everywhere, very clean, and it's a centre for high tech aeronautics, space, biotech, etc etc. I haven't seen much yet but it's got great potential so far. The two things I came for are Space City (supposedly a 'truly mind-blowing interactive space museum and planetarium' as Lonely Planet puts it, and is listed at the top of every tourism brochure list of sights), and a photography gallery that's supposed to be the biggest and best in France.
Also, I'm going to email Lindsay and Carrie (those two girls from Paris). I don't think they're here anymore, but maaaybe they are, or can tell me some other cool places to hang out.
So, my gameplan at this point is to do those things in Toulouse tomorrow and stay another night (I'm hoping I can find somewhere at least a little cheaper once the Tour de France masses ship out). Then, I'll head to Paris the next day; I really enjoyed it the first time around, and I know there are many things I'd still like to do. I'm not sure how long I'll stay there, for, so if you're still in Germany when I'm done in Paris (which seems likely), I'll head for Ireland and meet up with you there. If not, we can meet in Paris on the way to Ireland. Looks like it's best to take the ferry from Roscoff (far, far northwestern France) to Rosslare in Ireland, operated by Irish Ferries; that's the one with the 50% discount. It says advanced bookings recommended too, FYI.
Anyway, I better dash. Still want to update the weblog, plus if I hurry, I can head down to the local cinema about a kilometre from here and possibly catch a glimpse of ol' Arnie Schwarzenegger as he leaves the French premiere of T3. Crazy place this is!
Send my best wishes to your family (wish Tina a happy birthday for me!), have a great time in Berlin when you head up there (I'm jealous, so come back with some good stories!), and see you soon!
-Brian
I'm sorry I haven't written you in so long! I hope you haven't gone off cavorting in the woods with another author.
The thermal baths in Baden-Baden (click here for pictures since my camera would have looked really scandalous bulging out of my bathing shorts) were so incredibly relaxing and worthwhile. So many indoor and outdoor baths/pools. Some calm, some actively fed by the underground source, all at a minimum of 30 degrees Celcius. (Except for one I called the Canada Grotto at a chilly 16 Celcius). The natural mineral water was also a little salty, making it very easy to float and forget the world. Only downside was that it was pretty empty and I felt a little awkward whenever I was around the young couples that were going like this: smooch SMOOCH smooch, and like this: smoooooooooooch. I mean, c'mon, that's what the steam bath was for.
The next day I finally got into France, though the continuing rail strike made what was supposed to be a 3 hour train ride to the sleepy wine town of Beaune a 10 hour ordeal. Man, French people get really cranky when they're stuck for hours in the middle of nowhere on a sweltering, humid, stagnant train. And that was before the snack cart ran out of drinks.
Beaune rocked. Stayed in a tiny room in an even tinier hotel run by a crazy, charismatic old woman. The town is smack-dab in the middle of the Cote D'Or wine region and takes its wines seriously. Not something wimpy like "Canadians take hockey seriously" type of serious. I'm talking "Parents take their baby pictures seriously" type of serious. That serious.
First night I was there, I went to a small recommended wine cellar restaurant where they sit most visitors of one or two people down at a long, long table. It was a fantastic way to meet people; the table had two Canadians, one American, one Spaniard, two Dutch, and four French. We all ended up talking (with me doing some translation for the French) and having a great time.
The next day, I went drinking. Well, ostensibly, "wine tasting followed by spitting," but when you're paying 9 Euros to sample wines, that stuff's doing the full tour, if you know what I mean. It was a great time; you decend into a dark, damp winding staircase into a musty cellar lit mostly by candlelight. Upon each barrel on the self-guided tour, there's a candle and a bottle of wine. You pour a small amount of wine into a little metal cup you bring with you, and sample the wine before spitting into a nearby spittoon. But since no one else was around, I made sure to fully appreciate the hints of oak and truffles and elderberry and whatnot at length before moving onto the next vintage. The signs warned that if you were down there for more than an hour, they'd come searching for you with their two largest grape crushers, "Pierre" and "Spike," and nicely show you the door.
Na, I'm really not that bad an influence, for all of you young, impressionable kids reading this website. (Heh, heh...) I walked out on my own two feet and did some nice, wholesome rented-biking around the vineyard-riddled French countryside aftewards.
I'm in Lyon right now, hanging out with a cool and friendly Wisconson guy named Matt. So far we've seen the Contemporary Art Museum (filled with all sorts of strange multimedia exhibits, giant statues of cats with moving boggly eyes, and pretentious single-green-leaf-sitting-on-an-oak-chair style statements; it was actually a blast, overall) and a museum chronicalling the French Resistance during World War II. The latter blew us away; not only did it have a lost of fascinating, engaging exhibits exploring the Resistance from all possible angles, but some info on the Holocaust as well. The museum was so well presented and powerful; we had to decompress for a while afterwards, as Matt put it, to take it all in. It's easy to forget just how much of an impact the war(s) had on the world, and it's especially more significant now that I'm here, seeing where it all took place a mere 60 years ago.
So now, I'll head back up to the hostel, located up the hill in the old part of town, with a fantastic terrace outside overlooking the whole city. I'll make sure to get a nighttime photo for you guys. Tomorrow, Interlaken and seeing Markus again. I'll make fun of his Weisswurst-stuffed potbelly and dash away, giggling, while he chases me in a drunken stupor. Till then.
Hello there peoples,
After clubbing Brian over the head and kind of propping him upright, I've managed to get a picture of the two American girls (Lindsay and Carrie) with us. I shall post it later, but rest assured that the your thirst for the photos will be quenched.
To get to current events, we all went to Versailles together today and as far as I'm concerned it was one of the highlights of the trip so far. The huge mansion was thoroughly impressive by itself, but what really got to all of us in the end were the gardens.
At first sight, you think that it's nice, but nothing spectacular. There's your usual fountains, trees and symetrically cut bushes, but the fountains weren't spraying any water and the place looked kind of small from the entrance. What we didn't notice until later is that there were a whole bunch of small paths that ran from the central area to other parts of the the gardens, with more fountains, and even though they still weren't functioning this made things a little more interesting. After having some lunch and exploring the smaller, but still beautiful, hidden areas of the garden we decided to lounge around for a little while and thought about leaving.
Now at this point it doesn't sound like there's much to this place, and that's exactly what we were thinking, but at about 3:30 we hear an announcement come on in bad broken French followed by bad broken English, informing us that the fountains were going to come on and music was going to get played. As soon as the lady on the speaker had decided that she had massacred both languages enough, all the fountains around us burst into life and classical music began wafting through the air. I don't know about the others, but for me the effect was almost intoxicating. Suddenly the atmosphere in the gardens transformed itself completely and instead of feeling like I was in one of France's largest tourist traps I found myself strolling in a court worthy of kings and queens. I closed my eyes and felt it all wash over me and for a few moments, let myself get lost in the moment. Maybe it was just that we weren't expecting that much and ended up getting something good out of it, but this has got to be one of my favourite moments of the trip thus far.
Aside from that we're getting ready to head out on a night train to Munich. From there we'll try to get as close to Mauern as we can and then we'll either call my Aunt Christine for a ride or just take a bus or something.
Thanks for all your comments. They're entertaining as usual and keep us in the mood to do this thing.
Take it easy,
Markus
There's been so much written, poeticized, sung, and filmed about Paris; we were doing our best to keep our expectations in check. But Paris is simply fantastic. There are only a handful of truly breathtaking views and sites around the city, I think, but an unlimited supply of areas that just charm you to the bone with simple aesthetic beauty. It seems that throughout most of the city, there's a certain energy and excitement that fills the air. It's tough to put your finger on, but if it was easy to describe, there wouldn't be so much romance about all things Paris. Us cynical, jaded Canucks are enchanted, and we're more than happy to go along for the ride.
(Yes, there are pictures; ignore my gushing rambling and scroll down if you want to see them.)
Our first few days were a little occupied trying to deal with the administration of recovering Markus' Eurail pass, but boy did we walk about the city. We've strolled through pretty much every part of town by now; it's incredible to see such a bustling, multi-cultural (though we hear there's a lot of latent intolerance between the whites and the French South Africans), modern, vibrant society in the middle of such a historic city, with ancient relics everywhere. Toronto is just so 100-years-young, you know? We wandered onto the Ile de la Cité, a tiny island on the Seine river that was the entirety of Paris in 50 A.D. Nearby was the Cathedral of Notre-Dame, which was far more massive than we expected.
We also walked the much-recommended straight-line route from the Arc du Triomphe down the Champs D'Elysse, through le Place de la Concorde, through the beautiful Jardin du Something-Or-Other, right to the massive Louvre. Stun-ing. The Place de la Concorde is a massive square filled with another dizzing array of traffic. There's a 3300 year old Egyptian obelisk rising high from the center (a gift from Egypt in the 19th century), and many people were executed in the square in the past, including Marie-Antoinette and King Louis Part Sixteen. We tried to soak in as much as we could and imagine such events taking place years ago in the very spots we stood. Then we went to drink.
Paris, and most places in Europe, tolerates (or encourages?) drinking in the streets. So we sat by a nice fountain near the Hostel (on a picturesque, shop-lined street called Moufftard, or just le Mouff') and had a small amount of supermarket-bought wine with a girl from London, Ontario and a funny bloke from Australia. Markus drank more than others, of course. One thing we noticed is that every young woman in Paris seems to be sexy and attractive. Refined and classy, too; if she's not, she's a tourist. The guys, on the other hand, don't make too much of an effort to present themselves; it's like they're just sitting back and enjoying the show. We tried to find any exception to the rule, but we couldn't; my theory, widely accepted that evening, is that they ship the ugly girls down the river to Germany.
We saw the Eiffel Tower, of course, which was much less of a tourist trap than I was expecting. Very beautiful view from above, and Paris is far larger than we realized. And, as Markus described, we saw the Louvre (see many pics below). The special exhibit there on display for now was on Leonardo da Vinci. The sketches, drawings, and books this fellow wrote were astounding. There's brains, there's art, but then there's da Vinci, who delivers the two together into a one-two punch that leaves you reeling.
Fun experience at the Louvre: While waiting on a bench for Markus in the underground pyramid main entrance area, two Polish high school girls sitting beside me struck up a conversation. They could barely speak a word of English, and all I could say in Polish was "Yes" and "Good morning". It was a conversation filled with a lot of arm-waving gestures and pointing, but they eventually got across what town they were from (pointing it out on my guidebook map), that they were there for 6 days with their school, and that they loved Paris. They were so excited when I explained I was half-Polish, and couldn't stop thanking me when I gave them both Canadian pins we brought on the trip for people we met. They took turns taking pictures of themselves with me, and seemed very disappointed when Markus arrived and we left for lunch.
There are all sorts of experiences from Paris I'm leaving out from here (such as showing two interesting and wet-behind-the-ears American girls some of the sights, and getting lost more often than I'd like to admit, and...well, other little experiences!) but in the interest of time and space, I'll get onto the pictures. We're still experiencing issues with the software, and I'll simply link to the photos this time around. We should have a good opportunity to spruce up the ol' blog when we're in Germany in a few days. And, we know everyone can't wait for more photos; we'll post them as often as we can, but many internet cafes are very streamlined (monitor and a keyboard) and don't have anywhere to hook up the camera. Oh, and Markus is drunk -- there's no photoshopping on these or any photos, really, just the occasional rotation. Not that they couldn't use a bunch of touching up...
Pictures
That's it for now. We'll likely be heading out tonight to a local cafe where a lot of students and artsy-types hang out; very low key and laid-back, we hear. Maybe a friendly bar afterwards. Tomorrow, Versailles, then an overnight sleeper train to Munich and Markus' aunt's place an hour out of town. Catch ya later.
Hey there peoples,
The last couple of days have been very interesting. The weather has continued to be nice, so that's good, but now instead of having problems with the gods, we're experiencing difficulties with the mortals. As it turns out half the city is on strike, and as it turns out, if there's one thing that French people are really good at, it's not working (which might explain a local law that states the work-week can be no longer than 37 hours). This makes it difficult for would-be museum goers like us to get into places, because instead of being greeting by a smilling lady who says, "Give me your money" and us saying, "OK." we get to stare at a sign that says, "The museum is closed indefinitely". No lady, no money, no entry. Since Indiana Jones would never break into a museum unless he had a good reason, I had to bow my head in disappointment and walk away from both the Louvre and the Museum d'Orseille yesterday. Since Paris had turned its back on me, I decided to do the same by going to see X-Men 2. Now, I know that some of you out there want to kill me for this blasphemous act. I know some of you are thinking, "You're in Paris, one of the most beautiful cities in the world, it's nice and sunny after hearing you complain for a week about rain and NOW you go to see a movie!!!" To you people I say, "Yes. Yes I did." And you know what? I liked it a lot. so there!
Anyways, today we did get into the Louvre and all I could think at first is, "Holly cow, this place is gi-normous." We spent about 6 hours there and I think I saw maybe half the museum. My favourite part were some of the french sculptures made in the 1700s based on greek mythology, specifically those made as Diploma projects by the few artists who were seeking entrance to the Royal Academy and attained it. Man, I feel like I should be swirling some brandy in a glass while wearing a monacle and twirling my moustache. I think I need a punch, as Heather would say.
Well, I should let you people go now. We have heard your cries for photos and we will deliver tonight in a posting that will be put up slightly later by Brian. He's fevererishly working to make them all look slightly better by thouching them up in photoshop, even though I fear only he will be able to tell the difference in the end. Alas, the work of a perfectionist is never done.
Take it easy,
Markus
Nooo, I'm just kidding. It was our first nice and sunny day and I could think of no place better to spend it. Paris is without a doubt one of the most beautiful cities I have ever visited. We took the subway to the giant Arch de Triumph and then leisurely strolled around Paris for hours. The only thing more impressive than the beauty of Paris is the reckless abandon of the drivers. The Arch is at the centre of a huge intersection where 12 roads merge into one giant circle. There are no signs, no traffic lights and no lines on the road, just madness. I instantly had a flashback of Frogger (a video game back in the day) and with the amount of mopeds and small motor bikes here, I'm surprised that there aren't more messy bloodstains on the road. One particular guy who apparently does not crave the continuation of life like the rest of us was on a moped navigating the vehiclular gauntlet-o-death while on a cell phone. After that I would not have been surprised to see a bear driving a taxi.
In general, it was a nice and relaxing day. We're planning on taking some photos tonight and then we'll taunt you all some more with how wonderfull a time we're having by showing them to you.
Hope things are going great, wherever you may be and don't forget to take it easy.
Markus
Hello all you lovely people,
I warn you now, this is going to be a big posting so make sure you have some coffee or tea or something before reading it becuase a lot of things have happened between the last time we posted and today.
Firstly, the rest of our time in Bruges went well, even with the rain. We met another fellow Canadian from Edmonton and this guy was a HUGE Oilers fan (Hockey, for all you non-Canadians). He had the shirt, the hat, pins, stickers and I'm pretty sure he had some tattoos somewhere which we, thankfully, were spared from seing. The guy, aside from his obsession, seemed very nice and so when we decided to go out to this place called the Lucifernum (a cool bar we had heard about) we thought it would be alright to let him come along.
Every time we leave a hostel to walk to a place I do a double take. Bruges really is amazing with it's preserved buildings and winding streets, so just walking to the Lucifernum gets us in the adventuring mood. It's good that we were in an adventuring mood, because in the windows was an odd assortment of wooden puppets which ranged from 1930s style black servants to to small frail china dolls with cracks running down their faces. It looked like something out of "The Temple of Doom", and since I like to pretend in my head that I'm really Indiana Jones, I decided to check it out. Although there weren't any weird priest people ripping hearts out of other people's chests, the rest of the Bar wasn't any less creepy, with carved heads of classic movie monsters everywhere and the main host dressed up as Dracula. All this was very dark and moody, but what really made us scream in terror were the price of the drinks in this place. Being the starving students that we are, we ordered one drink each, sipped each drop as if it were the last liquid left on this earth and then left peacfully and went back to the hostel to get some sleep.
After taking the train back to Brussels in the morning we went back to the extra cool hostel there, the Van Gogh. Generally, we relaxed most of the day, did some laundry and mentally prepared ourselves for our first night of European clubbing. As evening fell, we decided that we'd head out a little early so that we could check out a jazz festival that was in town, maybe go to a cafe or bar and then we'd hit the club.
Now, I know that our friend, Mr. William Shakespeare taught us the valuable lesson that blaming the gods for our problems is not a reasonable thing to do. At this point, however, I am convinced that if there is a god of rain then he has most likely been reading our postings and is amusing himself by torturing us puny mortals. The moment we walk out of the hostel, and I'm talking about seconds here, it starts to come down, and this time it isn't trickling, it's showering hard. This is when something dawned upon me. You see, I have never felt the need to carry an umbrella. I mean, it's only water, right? So you get a little wet. What's the big deal. Well, apparently I missed the Sesame Street episode when Big Bird explains the very complex and intricate concept that cold and wet = BAAaad. Dry and warm = Good. Maybe it's the rampant stupidity that is embedded in youth, maybe it's the testosterone of the young male (in which case, the stupidity clause still applies) but nontheless, I have now seen the error of my ways. This did not stop me from getting cold and wet on the way to the jazz festival, and let it be known that were it not for Brian's insistance that we tough it out, I most likely would have gone home defeated by our avid reader, Mr. Rain God.
Anyways, getting back on track here, after staying at the jazz festival only long enough to realize that they were in the middle of changing bands, we decided to go to the club. After a short while of walking we arrived, cold and wet (which is Bad) and realized that it would not open for another hour (which is worse). Seeing the poor state we were in and realizing that we were still in the young and stupid phase of life, the owner of the place took pity on us and decided that we could sit inside the main door until the place opened. This made us quite happy, since it would give us a chance to dry off and at the same time gave us the amusement of watching two huge and burly bouncers kiss each other on the cheeck in true Brussels greeting tradition.
Alright people, this is the point where everyone over thirty and not interested in clubs can begin pre-emptively shacking their heads slowly from side to side. The club was amazing. Not only was the DJ spinning extremely good music, but the entire atmosphere of the club was completely different from that of the north american experience. People here were not at the club to impress or intimidate or to fight, they were there for only two reasons, to drink and to dance... okay three reasons to drink to dance and to pick up if possible (things aren't THAT different after all). Overall people were simply more friendly. They let you by if you had to get somewhere, they smiled back at you if you made eye-contact and all in all, they seemed to be there to have a good time. In short, I loved it.
Anyways, it's time to wrap this monstrosity of a posting up. We travelled to Paris today and plan to start seeing the sights tomorrow. On the way I lost both my journal with all its entries thus far and my eurorail pass which was hidden inside. I'm not sure if it was stolen or if I misplaced it, but I have insurance for the pass, so getting a replacement won't be that hard. The journal doesn't bug me that much either, since I've got these postings and since it's only been 6 days. It's a good lesson to learn early on in the trip, though. Maybe it'll sink in a little better than those Sesame Street shows.
Take it easy people and thanks for all your comments,
Markus
P.S. Paris is supposed to be partially cloudy and sunny tomorrow. I beg of you Mr. Rain God, show us some mercy. I know it's fun to pick on the French, but please wait until we're gone...
I'll rush to get this entry out before Markus finishes his, but it might be hard; he's drinking like crazy and types much faster with some nice 1-Euro Jupiter beers in him. (Well, he could be slowed down by the two women on his legs; Mikey, you're right, he's a terrible influence.)
I'm starting to realize just how long 3 months is. Whenever we talk about our trip to fellow travellers, they always balk. "Three months! Wow! We're only here for a few weeks. What a long time! How can you afford it?" (Supermarket meals and black-market kidney sales.) "Where are you going?" (Everywhere and anywhere.) "Won't you miss people back home?" (...Yes.)
I never really considered just what my reasons and goals for backpacking Europe were before I left. I just always figured it'd be an amazing experience, and I had to do it for personal self-growth, but now that I'm here I really need to sit down and figure out just what I'm hoping to get out of it. And part of that realization, and the homesickness, is thinking that what I'm getting out of this trip will be outweighed, at some point down the road, by an overwhelming desire to experience my time at home. I know that time won't come anytime too soon, but it may come sooner than I'm expecting. I'm sure I'll get over this initial homesickness, too.
Well, one very interesting thing we did last night was stop in a little bar on our way to the Fuse nightclub. This place was amazing. First we're travelling down a dark, narrow street surrounded by tall buildings hundreds of years old, dodging the occasional car as it bounces down the cobblestone road glistened by rain. Then we turn into this odd-looking bar on a whim. The bar was amazing; very dark, some coloured lighting, filled with tons of knick-knacks collected over the years (and none of that catalog-ordered 'ambiance' you find so much of in Canada, I'm guessing). [Ed note: He's becoming a European snob already!] We ordered some drinks and explored. Very low ceilings, very small place, but packed with young locals. We ventured upstairs a narrow, wooden spiral staircase to several couch-filled areas. The walls were covered with all sorts of portraits and Impressionist-style paintings. One couch area in the back had a young couple just lounging together in the dark red light on a curved couch. We headed up another half-level (there was so little rhyme or reason to the layout in this dark place) and just had a drink in the most relaxed area we could find. Granted, lots of smoke (everyone in Europe smokes), but the haze only added to the mystique. It struck me as the perfect, most genuine place for a romantic date.
Anyway, Markus will cover the rest in his inimitable crazy German style. Enjoy.
