What a day! This was a star-studded day when it comes to tourist attractions. I started my day with a 6-7 mile run along the river Sein, past Notre Dame Cathedral, through the streets of Paris, past Musee d'Orsay, close to the Eiffel tower, back along the other side of the river, through the gardens and statues at the Louvre and back. Just another humdrum morning of jogging. We checked out of our hostel and left our luggage in storage.
We decided to start our day at Jardin Luxemburg, a very large garden, full of people reading books, statues, joggers, trees, and fountains. It was a pretty relaxing walk. We had a chance to watch a couple of young men play tennis. One had a very impressive topspin forehand.
From the garden, we made our way to the Pantheon. This gigantic building was once a church and now contains a crypt for many famous French heros. We were able to walk to the top (over 200 steps) and get a breathtaking view of Paris. In the Pantheon is a reinactment of Foucault's pendulum, which was used to demonstrate that the earth revolves by showing that the pendulum's motion stays the same while the earth rotates beneath it. This is a great location for a pendulum, as the ceiling of the highest dome is 67 meters high (200 feet or so). The architecture of the Pantheon is unbelievable!
We checked in to our new hostel (we couldn't find two consecutive nights in the same place) and took the Metro to the Louvre for the evening. Here we saw (of course) the Mona Lisa and countless other statues, paintings, and relics. This is the world's largest museum, and it would take many days to do it justice. It was nice to have Rick Steves' audio tour for parts of the museum to get some interpretive help. The number and quality of exhibits in the Louvre is overwhelming. Observing all of this does a few things to me. First, it makes me feel really ignorant. What did I learn in high school and college after all? Certainly nothing much about art. Secondly, it impresses me with the tremendous impact religion has had in the history of humankind. Mary is central to a huge percentage of the art in the Louvre. Quite an unusual emphasis for someone who in the Bible plays an important but unemphasized part.
We took the Metro home, searched for a supermarket (a very loosely used term in Europe), and crashed. We didn't really eat a meal today! We just snacked here and there and were so busy that we didn't really find time to sit for a meal. Tomorrow will be different! The hostels serve breakfast and this is turning out to be our big meal of the day!
Tomorrow ... our last day in Paris!!!
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28th (Day 5)
It's interesting to fall asleep in one country (Germany), and wake up in another (France). Especially when you are in a tight sleeping compartment with your son and four lively and noisy Austrian teenage boys (and their girlfriends). I managed to sleep through most of the noise and awake feeling pretty refreshed at about 7:30am. The couchettes (pronounced KOO-SHET) are, I think, designed for a person about 5' 10" tall. So, you can imagine Abel's 6'5" frame in one of these "beds." He says he slept well, though - and so did I. Breakfast was banana juice, a Cliff Bar, a couple of oranges, and some pastry and nutella shared by our young Austrian friends.
We found our way on foot from the train station to the hostel pretty easily. It involved a walk through downtown Paris with was very interesting. We walked to Le Sein River and then along the river to our hostel. On the way, we saw in the distance the Eiffel tower and the church of Notre Dame, along with lots of other fascinating buildings and people.
After dropping off our luggage, we decided to visit the closest sites, primarily the Notre Dame church. We used a Rick Steves audio tour to walk through the area, starting at Notre Dame and ending at Point Neuf, with 13 other points of interest in between. It was great to get his audio interpretation of everything. Much cheaper than hiring a tour guide, but you can't ask the MP3 questions.
The church was the most amazing thing we saw today. It took 200 years to build - started in the 1100s and finished in the 1300s. The statues, architecture, windows, and atmosphere are breathtaking. It's a marvel of architecture and religious superstition. There was a mass in progress as we walked through, but only a tiny minority were paying attention to that or participating. Most were just in awe of the building. I found the gargoyles particularly interesting. They double as rain gutters, with the runoff coming out of their mouths. I learned that the words "gargoyle" and "gargle" come from the same root word.
After our tour, we walked back to the hostel, checked into our room at 3pm, and got cleaned up. We took a walk around the neighborhood, took a nap, had dinner at a nearby restaurant that served food that looked kind of Chinese, but had a curry spice to it. It was delicious! Abel had shrimp and I had beef. And both were on a generous bed of rice.
Our hostel is much different than the one in Munich. It's very quiet, and most residents are either groups of school children, or older folks like me. There aren't people hanging out in the lounge area like there were in Munich. The rooms are clean, and we only share our with one person, a man named Horatio from Argentina.
A few observations about Paris:
We found our way on foot from the train station to the hostel pretty easily. It involved a walk through downtown Paris with was very interesting. We walked to Le Sein River and then along the river to our hostel. On the way, we saw in the distance the Eiffel tower and the church of Notre Dame, along with lots of other fascinating buildings and people.
After dropping off our luggage, we decided to visit the closest sites, primarily the Notre Dame church. We used a Rick Steves audio tour to walk through the area, starting at Notre Dame and ending at Point Neuf, with 13 other points of interest in between. It was great to get his audio interpretation of everything. Much cheaper than hiring a tour guide, but you can't ask the MP3 questions.
The church was the most amazing thing we saw today. It took 200 years to build - started in the 1100s and finished in the 1300s. The statues, architecture, windows, and atmosphere are breathtaking. It's a marvel of architecture and religious superstition. There was a mass in progress as we walked through, but only a tiny minority were paying attention to that or participating. Most were just in awe of the building. I found the gargoyles particularly interesting. They double as rain gutters, with the runoff coming out of their mouths. I learned that the words "gargoyle" and "gargle" come from the same root word.
After our tour, we walked back to the hostel, checked into our room at 3pm, and got cleaned up. We took a walk around the neighborhood, took a nap, had dinner at a nearby restaurant that served food that looked kind of Chinese, but had a curry spice to it. It was delicious! Abel had shrimp and I had beef. And both were on a generous bed of rice.
Our hostel is much different than the one in Munich. It's very quiet, and most residents are either groups of school children, or older folks like me. There aren't people hanging out in the lounge area like there were in Munich. The rooms are clean, and we only share our with one person, a man named Horatio from Argentina.
A few observations about Paris:
- The pigeons are gargantuan! I'd swear these pigeons are as big as the average chicken. There are also lots of really big dogs, too! We saw one that looked like a bear from a distance. I guess the French like their pigeons and dogs extra large!
- I had high school and college French, and though it was 30 years ago, I remember some of it. Everyone knows the nasal nature of the French language. It isn't exaggerated. When I hear people speaking French, I find myself thinking they surely must be exaggerating. But no, that's really how they speak! They rarely pronounce the letters at the end of a word. Bon Jour is BO-JOO and the Louvre is the LOOV.
- Paris is much less friendly to English speakers as Munich. There aren't nearly as many signs or speech in English, so a person is forced to try to learn the language. Not a bad thing, I guess!
- There aren't as many bicyclers in Paris as there were in Munich. But Munich and Paris bikers have one thing in common. They own the road! I bike quite a bit back home and I always feel like a second class citizen in Duluth. I get honked at, stared at, and generally feel like I'm in everyone else's way. It seems to be the opposite in Europe. Bikers fly through crowds of people without slowing down, smiling happily as they go by. Behind that smile is the thought - "I'll run you over if you don't get out of the way!" And it's true. You don't want to get in their way.
Tomorrow promises to be a very busy day - time for bed!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Wednesday, May 27th (Day 4)
Today was a serious walking day! It started at about 7am as a rainy, drizzly morning, and I went for another 4 mile run through the cemetery. That was very refreshing! We packed up all our stuff as we are heading to Paris in the evening, and then had another gigantic breakfast that will last us most of the day. They serve the best breakfast a person could ask for here! Fruit, yogurt, granola, bread, meat, cheese, OJ, milk, coffee, and even a PBJ sandwich for me today!
Abel and I lounged for a couple hours and made some plans for the next few days. We finally decided to spend the afternoon at the Olympic Park, site of the 1972 Olympics of hostage crisis fame. The guy at the desk told us it was too far to walk and we should take the train, so of course Abel and I decided to walk. We wanted to experience Munich on our feet - how much do you see on an underground train?
So we walked - and walked - and walked. I didn't keep track of the time, but it probably took us 2-1/2 hours to get there. It was well worth it because we saw some great sights and talked to a few interesting people.
The Olympic park is great! We walked (of course) to the top of a very large hill that overlooks Munich. Very scenic! We walked around the park, and saw the stadium, swimming building, tennis courts, etc. We also visited King Tut in a very spectacular exhibit. This is the first tourist attraction that we've had to pay for and it was worth it! Did you know he died in 1323 BC at the age of 18? Nobody knows if his death was accidental or a murder. The incredible relics in his tomb boggle the mind! Lots of gold and other precious materials.
We took the train back. 6 hours of walking was enough for me! We had a great supper that was something like a German pot pie, except a much flakier crust. We are now getting ready to catch the train for Paris! It will be an overnight trip and I expect to sleep very well!
Abel and I lounged for a couple hours and made some plans for the next few days. We finally decided to spend the afternoon at the Olympic Park, site of the 1972 Olympics of hostage crisis fame. The guy at the desk told us it was too far to walk and we should take the train, so of course Abel and I decided to walk. We wanted to experience Munich on our feet - how much do you see on an underground train?
So we walked - and walked - and walked. I didn't keep track of the time, but it probably took us 2-1/2 hours to get there. It was well worth it because we saw some great sights and talked to a few interesting people.
The Olympic park is great! We walked (of course) to the top of a very large hill that overlooks Munich. Very scenic! We walked around the park, and saw the stadium, swimming building, tennis courts, etc. We also visited King Tut in a very spectacular exhibit. This is the first tourist attraction that we've had to pay for and it was worth it! Did you know he died in 1323 BC at the age of 18? Nobody knows if his death was accidental or a murder. The incredible relics in his tomb boggle the mind! Lots of gold and other precious materials.
We took the train back. 6 hours of walking was enough for me! We had a great supper that was something like a German pot pie, except a much flakier crust. We are now getting ready to catch the train for Paris! It will be an overnight trip and I expect to sleep very well!
Abel's Day 2 Journal Entry
//Journal Entry 1. Day 2
Right now I am in Munich, Germany. It is a city of over 1 million people, and at least four times as many BMWs. Any attempt to express the number of bicycles would be an exercise in futility, culminating in a gross understatement. From my top-bunk (score!) perch in my hostel room, the sounds of Munich come in through an open, screenless window. I considered using the cliche "drift in on the breeze through the open window," and in doing so would have soundly thrashed the last gasping breaths of life out of a phrase which I am quite sure melted hearts back in its prime. But I did not, for the sole reason that that is just not what Munich sounds do.
Munich sounds do not drift. Munich sounds stomp with iron-shod feet up and down the narrow cobblestone streets in bloodthirsty search of an open hostel window. Spotting mine, they take a running leap for the ancient stone wall that leads to my 2nd story window, scrambling over each other in race to be the first to commence assault on my serenity. In the famous Munich Sound Scramble, the contestent we shall refer to as "Yelling in German" finishes first. At least I assume it is German, since I am, in fact, in Germany. If I were anywhere else and heard such a racket, I would assume it to be a primitive pre-cursor to Vulcan. To put it more frankly, German spoken with any amount of fluency sounds like someone who is coughing up a lung while at the same time slurping a bowl of Ramen noodles through their lips at a tremendous rate. To be sure, my friends, that is a rare gift. Spoken German is rigid and intense, yet also very sloshy. My conjecture is that this combination must somehow be a direct result of another German combination, that of beer and sausage, respectively. Maybe a higher sausage intake increases intensity. And more beer increases the slosh. Imagine trying to give directions, to someone wearing a suit and driving an Audi who is in a great hurry, from a train station called "Garching-Forshungszentrum" to another train stop called "Hohenkirchen-Siegertsbrunn." Now imagine doing it very shortly after consuming two sizeable Bratwurst and three liters of a stout local German hops beer.
I have tried and failed to reproduce some of the sounds that I have heard manufactured by Germans, much to the bewilderment of my hostel mates. I cannot decide whether the bewilderment is due to my sudden utterances of Vulcan, or that I cannot perform this feat without spitting profusely.
Now that my hostel mates are convinced that I have tuerrettes AND rabies, I can move on to say what I really do love about Munich. There is food everywhere. I am not talking the go-to-a-ballgame-and-can't-escape-the-cotton-candy-vendors type of "food everywhere." I mean that every city block has at least one of three culinary delights: An open-air roadside vegetable and fruit market, a meat market who's tantalizing aromas will stop you dead in your tracks, or a bakery with every possible shape of loaf in every possible shade of brown. So here we have dapper businessmen in BMWs speaking rapid (or rabid?) Vulcan, speeding past roadside peddlers trying to sell you a half-kilo of fresh ripe cherries (which, I was kindly informed, are just coming in to season). New meets old.
The interesting thing is that the sounds of the peddler and his cherries do not make it up the stone wall and through my hostel window. They are much too drifty for that, not to mention they lack the necessary iron footwear. So instead you must go out to meet them. This means walking. Novel, eh? Walking around the city of Munich is inspiring. With an Beamer ratio this high, one would not expect jovial beer gardens in the middle of town or ornately sculpted architecture towering above cobblestone streets. Yet this clash of worlds each make the other stand out all the better. Although hip and modern, Munich looks much more hip and modern because it has an absolutely gargantuan Supreme-Court-of-Mount-Olympus type building in the town square. Although certainly quaint, quirky, and c(w?)ozy, Munich appears to be on the same plane of cheer as your neighborhood Irish pub (the kind where Guiness is free to anyone who can imitate an Irish accent), simply because suits, cell phones, and sedans hustle around the beer gardens.
So basically this journal entry served three purposes. One is to emphasize that the sights of Munich are altogether awesome, and is an altogether different sight than its sounds. The second is to lash out at the infernal racket that is currently laying a blistering seige to my hostel. The third is to record the results of the esteemed Munich Sound Scramble, in which the contestant that finishes second (and third, fourth, and so on up to 4 million) is of course the "Honking of an BMW."
That is Munich during the day. It is awesome and I love it. Munich at night is better.
The town transforms when the sun starts to sink. The businessman have cashed in their suits for jeans, khakis, and a casual shirt. What makes the town suddenly quiet and peaceful, even romantic, is that they traded their BMWs for a pair of sneakers. Not to mention that all those who use the German language no longer feel the need to shout. On a 70 degree evening like tonight, everyone is out, strolling in hordes like a twisting river at the bottom of the canyon formed by the mountainous spectacles of architecture that flank the cobblestone street. There are cafes spilling into the street, with the hip crowd enjoying a drink and having a light snack or dessert. I have found that as a rule, German girls are downright gorgeous, and German guys are downright very awkward looking. Therefore you walk around in constant amazement and self-pity at the apparently low standards of very pretty girls.
A herd of about 40 teens mingle in a courtyard by a fountain, which is, by the way, nothing short of dazzling in the sunset light. But the horde of adolescents commanded my attention when they simultaneously migrate en masse to another downtown location. What marvels me is that they did it without a word or without a leader. They must have an internal "cool sensor." When they all have been standing around in one location, they soak up all the coolness in the area. When it they haved sucked it dry, it is time to graze in new and greener pastures. That, or they just have no idea what they are doing and they are wandering randomly just because.
There is a pair of street performers in a doorway, one playing a catchy chord progression on an acoustic guitar, and the other coaxing a soulful jazz melody from a clarinet. In these narrow streets with mile-high ornate stone buildings on each side, the sound bounces around like a superball in a low-ceilinged basement. It is not unlike Surround Sound. However, I am still going to have to recommend Surround Sound over Ornately Carven Medieval Castle, considering the comparitively absurd cost of labor these days.
Our hostel is called the Wombat's City Hostel. It is apparently Australian themed, although the only Australian thing I have encountered is the accent of one of the desk clerks. As with all themed venues, there is an overbearing abundance of puns. My favorite is the bar/pool room/discoteque-where-no-one-dances-but-the-bass-is-cranked-up-to-an-absurd-level-anyways room on the lower level of the Wombat, entitled the WomBAR. At this convenient watering hole, a young hosteler can get anything from orange juice to Jagermeister to an authentic German lager (available in liter mugs). I chose the latter and am enjoying it thoroughly. Overall it is a first-rate hostel as hostels go. Clean, efficient, and lots of security accommodations for those certain items of your luggage that you a) don't want to be lugging around town during the day but b) would also prefer to still have present in your room when you return. The shower here even performs like it belongs in a century not too far removed from the current one. From what I have heard of hostels, I expect it to go downhill fast from here.
One of my hostel mates, a young fellow from Australia, seems like a pretty cool guy. This just goes to prove the unfairness of life, because his name is Laim (yes, it is pronounced like how you are thinking it is pronounced). And I cannot imagnine he has done anything to deserve it. Some people have awkward names and you snicker with glee inside (and/or outside) when you hear it, because you just know that they deserve every bit of it. Laim is not so. He is a victim of parents with too much creativity, who were very possibly under the intense and sloshy influence of German sausage and beer.
Tumbling into bed after my first day in Munich, I cannot help but think that if Barcelona is half as attractive as this, I just might not return to the U.S. Ever. Provided, of course, that they don't have a raging infestation of Beamers in Barcelona, and that the pretty local girls/homely local guys situation is about the same as it is here.
Right now I am in Munich, Germany. It is a city of over 1 million people, and at least four times as many BMWs. Any attempt to express the number of bicycles would be an exercise in futility, culminating in a gross understatement. From my top-bunk (score!) perch in my hostel room, the sounds of Munich come in through an open, screenless window. I considered using the cliche "drift in on the breeze through the open window," and in doing so would have soundly thrashed the last gasping breaths of life out of a phrase which I am quite sure melted hearts back in its prime. But I did not, for the sole reason that that is just not what Munich sounds do.
Munich sounds do not drift. Munich sounds stomp with iron-shod feet up and down the narrow cobblestone streets in bloodthirsty search of an open hostel window. Spotting mine, they take a running leap for the ancient stone wall that leads to my 2nd story window, scrambling over each other in race to be the first to commence assault on my serenity. In the famous Munich Sound Scramble, the contestent we shall refer to as "Yelling in German" finishes first. At least I assume it is German, since I am, in fact, in Germany. If I were anywhere else and heard such a racket, I would assume it to be a primitive pre-cursor to Vulcan. To put it more frankly, German spoken with any amount of fluency sounds like someone who is coughing up a lung while at the same time slurping a bowl of Ramen noodles through their lips at a tremendous rate. To be sure, my friends, that is a rare gift. Spoken German is rigid and intense, yet also very sloshy. My conjecture is that this combination must somehow be a direct result of another German combination, that of beer and sausage, respectively. Maybe a higher sausage intake increases intensity. And more beer increases the slosh. Imagine trying to give directions, to someone wearing a suit and driving an Audi who is in a great hurry, from a train station called "Garching-Forshungszentrum" to another train stop called "Hohenkirchen-Siegertsbrunn." Now imagine doing it very shortly after consuming two sizeable Bratwurst and three liters of a stout local German hops beer.
I have tried and failed to reproduce some of the sounds that I have heard manufactured by Germans, much to the bewilderment of my hostel mates. I cannot decide whether the bewilderment is due to my sudden utterances of Vulcan, or that I cannot perform this feat without spitting profusely.
Now that my hostel mates are convinced that I have tuerrettes AND rabies, I can move on to say what I really do love about Munich. There is food everywhere. I am not talking the go-to-a-ballgame-and-can't-escape-the-cotton-candy-vendors type of "food everywhere." I mean that every city block has at least one of three culinary delights: An open-air roadside vegetable and fruit market, a meat market who's tantalizing aromas will stop you dead in your tracks, or a bakery with every possible shape of loaf in every possible shade of brown. So here we have dapper businessmen in BMWs speaking rapid (or rabid?) Vulcan, speeding past roadside peddlers trying to sell you a half-kilo of fresh ripe cherries (which, I was kindly informed, are just coming in to season). New meets old.
The interesting thing is that the sounds of the peddler and his cherries do not make it up the stone wall and through my hostel window. They are much too drifty for that, not to mention they lack the necessary iron footwear. So instead you must go out to meet them. This means walking. Novel, eh? Walking around the city of Munich is inspiring. With an Beamer ratio this high, one would not expect jovial beer gardens in the middle of town or ornately sculpted architecture towering above cobblestone streets. Yet this clash of worlds each make the other stand out all the better. Although hip and modern, Munich looks much more hip and modern because it has an absolutely gargantuan Supreme-Court-of-Mount-Olympus type building in the town square. Although certainly quaint, quirky, and c(w?)ozy, Munich appears to be on the same plane of cheer as your neighborhood Irish pub (the kind where Guiness is free to anyone who can imitate an Irish accent), simply because suits, cell phones, and sedans hustle around the beer gardens.
So basically this journal entry served three purposes. One is to emphasize that the sights of Munich are altogether awesome, and is an altogether different sight than its sounds. The second is to lash out at the infernal racket that is currently laying a blistering seige to my hostel. The third is to record the results of the esteemed Munich Sound Scramble, in which the contestant that finishes second (and third, fourth, and so on up to 4 million) is of course the "Honking of an BMW."
That is Munich during the day. It is awesome and I love it. Munich at night is better.
The town transforms when the sun starts to sink. The businessman have cashed in their suits for jeans, khakis, and a casual shirt. What makes the town suddenly quiet and peaceful, even romantic, is that they traded their BMWs for a pair of sneakers. Not to mention that all those who use the German language no longer feel the need to shout. On a 70 degree evening like tonight, everyone is out, strolling in hordes like a twisting river at the bottom of the canyon formed by the mountainous spectacles of architecture that flank the cobblestone street. There are cafes spilling into the street, with the hip crowd enjoying a drink and having a light snack or dessert. I have found that as a rule, German girls are downright gorgeous, and German guys are downright very awkward looking. Therefore you walk around in constant amazement and self-pity at the apparently low standards of very pretty girls.
A herd of about 40 teens mingle in a courtyard by a fountain, which is, by the way, nothing short of dazzling in the sunset light. But the horde of adolescents commanded my attention when they simultaneously migrate en masse to another downtown location. What marvels me is that they did it without a word or without a leader. They must have an internal "cool sensor." When they all have been standing around in one location, they soak up all the coolness in the area. When it they haved sucked it dry, it is time to graze in new and greener pastures. That, or they just have no idea what they are doing and they are wandering randomly just because.
There is a pair of street performers in a doorway, one playing a catchy chord progression on an acoustic guitar, and the other coaxing a soulful jazz melody from a clarinet. In these narrow streets with mile-high ornate stone buildings on each side, the sound bounces around like a superball in a low-ceilinged basement. It is not unlike Surround Sound. However, I am still going to have to recommend Surround Sound over Ornately Carven Medieval Castle, considering the comparitively absurd cost of labor these days.
Our hostel is called the Wombat's City Hostel. It is apparently Australian themed, although the only Australian thing I have encountered is the accent of one of the desk clerks. As with all themed venues, there is an overbearing abundance of puns. My favorite is the bar/pool room/discoteque-where-no-one-dances-but-the-bass-is-cranked-up-to-an-absurd-level-anyways room on the lower level of the Wombat, entitled the WomBAR. At this convenient watering hole, a young hosteler can get anything from orange juice to Jagermeister to an authentic German lager (available in liter mugs). I chose the latter and am enjoying it thoroughly. Overall it is a first-rate hostel as hostels go. Clean, efficient, and lots of security accommodations for those certain items of your luggage that you a) don't want to be lugging around town during the day but b) would also prefer to still have present in your room when you return. The shower here even performs like it belongs in a century not too far removed from the current one. From what I have heard of hostels, I expect it to go downhill fast from here.
One of my hostel mates, a young fellow from Australia, seems like a pretty cool guy. This just goes to prove the unfairness of life, because his name is Laim (yes, it is pronounced like how you are thinking it is pronounced). And I cannot imagnine he has done anything to deserve it. Some people have awkward names and you snicker with glee inside (and/or outside) when you hear it, because you just know that they deserve every bit of it. Laim is not so. He is a victim of parents with too much creativity, who were very possibly under the intense and sloshy influence of German sausage and beer.
Tumbling into bed after my first day in Munich, I cannot help but think that if Barcelona is half as attractive as this, I just might not return to the U.S. Ever. Provided, of course, that they don't have a raging infestation of Beamers in Barcelona, and that the pretty local girls/homely local guys situation is about the same as it is here.
Abel's Day 1 Journal Entry
Journal Entry 2 - Day 1
Winner Winner of an Airline Chicken Dinner
So I suppose I should tell you how I ended up in the Wombat (and WomBAR) in downtown Munich. I'm not sure who's idea it was, mine or my Dad's. Somehow we both decided that traveling Europe together for 3 weeks is something that needed to happen this summer. Our planned itinerary is Munich, Paris, Barcelona, Rome, Venice, and back to Munich. We picked Munich as a jumping on and jumping off place simply because (and this continues to baffle me) airfare to Germany is roughly the cost of a Happy Meal. Our plan is to use the EuRail system to travel in between cities, while staying in hostels for a few days in each destination.
We flew out of Minneapolis on Sunday, May 24th, had a layover in Atlanta, left the U.S. at 4:20pm, Central Daylight Time, and arrived in Munich at 1:00am, Central Daylight Time. The bad news is that this is 8:00am in the Munich time zone (aka serious jet lag). The good news (kind of) is that this means that the ever-generous Delta Airlines is compelled to serve us both dinner and breakfast. I have learned that the less aspiring an airline meal is, the better it is going to taste. For example, our breakfast was a bagel and cream cheese with a banana on the side. A perfect way to start the day. There are just not many corners in the food quality department that Delta Airlines can cut on a bagel/banana breakfast (although, I assure you, there is probably someone working around the clock on it). At any rate, breakfast was fantastic. Or maybe it just seemed fantastic compared to our dinner a few hours earlier. Our dinner choices aboard Delta Airlines Flight 103 out of Atlanta non-stop service to Munich were few. Two, to be exact. "Chicken breast and our vegetarian option, which is a vegetable pasta."
I have always held the conviction that "vegetarian" comes from an old Ojibwe word that meant "doesn't hunt well." So I assertively chose the chicken breast with a great deal of pride in my manhood. It was delivered to me in one of those plastic trays that has a clear cellophane cover with adhesive around the edges. I solemnly swear to you that the condensation on the inside of the cellophane actually spelled the words "recently microwaved." But, being a college student, I use a microwave more than my toothbrush. Therefore, I am not one to prioritize presentation or cooking procedures over fundamental taste enjoyment. But Delta Airlines seriously missed the flight on both procedure and taste. Instead of the steaming side of suculant poultry my stomach was craving, I had in my tray steaming strips of soggy poultry. Pre-cut into five strips that looked like they belonged in a fajita, my chicken was submerged in a broth that contained corn, black beans, and about 6 pounds of seasoning salt. It is often my suspician that when you see an overdose of sauces and spices, that means that it is a cover-up for meat of questionable quality. For example, the best way to destroy a tender filet mignon, and likewise, the best way to make a $2.50/lb round steak palateable, is to drown them in A1. I have always been under the impression that microwaves, by nature, cook things uniformly. Apparantly not the on-flight microwaves used by Delta. The fajita-strip on the far left had that rubbery lack of texture that is a sure giveaway that your chicken breast has not been sufficiently microwaved (believe me, this ain't my first rodeo). The fajita-strip on the far right was beyond dry. It was the kind of dry like when you run out of gravy at Thanksgiving and you have to take that last bite of white meat turkey with nothing to wash it down. Then you proceed to chew it all weekend and throughout most of the Christmas shopping season. You finally manage to swallow it on December 17th in the checkout line of Gander Mountain, and by that time, your new and massive jaw muscles have caused people who catch a glimpse of your chin to mistake you for Jay Leno. I was actually a little thankful for my dry little fajita strip, because it gave me something to do for the remaining 6 hours of the flight.
The middle three fajita strips were passable, but they still raised the suspicion that someone at the Delta Airlines Chicken Dinner Factory has aggressive investments in seasoning salt stock. My chicken dinner was complemented by a small garden salad. By small, I mean it consisted of exactly 11 pieces of iceberg lettuce. By garden salad, I mean that exactly 6 pieces of shredded carrot accompanied the lettuce. When I saw my salad, those pictures of starving children in Africa on the front of donation campaign ads for your local "Well-Meaning Charity Group That is Too Bogged Down in Inefficient Beaurocracy to Affect Any Actual Change" (WMCGTTBDIBAAAC). Just to clear up any confusion, I didn't think of the African children because I suddenly wanted to donate my salad to someone who needed/wanted it. I simply thought of the African children because my salad looked like one of them. The lettuce was wilted and the carrots were shriveled and starting to twist like Arbys'curly fries. Suddenly it dawned on me that there was an inexcusable absence of Arbys' curly fries from my plate of food, and I suddenly became quite angry with Delta's paltry fare. Therefore, I had pre-concieved ill will toward my rye bun before I even gave it a chance, all because I was wishing to God that it had been born a curly fry. As some sort of ironic reprimand about the morality of making such judgments, my rye bun turned out to be quite delicious. The last item that made up my Delta dinner was a packet of two wheat crackers and a container of "cheese food," which was ambitiously entitled "Gourmet Cheese." Now first of all, if something feels compelled to set the record straight that it is, in fact, a "food," then I am by no means interested. Secondly, if something feels the need to persuade you via pompous print on the wrapper that it is, in fact, "gourmet," then it is probably nothing of the sort. Gourmet food is when you go to a restaurant where you can't pronounce anything on the menu and the prices are not listed because "If you have to ask, you can't afford it." That is gourmet. Not a plastic container with a tin foil top who's contents have the consistency of peanut butter and a sickly pastel hue.
Regardless of my dinner's shortcomings, I shoveled it all into my face in a matter of minutes, like any true college kid would do with a free meal. Then I proceeded to attempt to attempt to sleep. No, that is not a typo. You see, when you attempt to sleep, you a) arrange yourself in a sleeping position, and b) think about the most recent Jessica Alba movie you have seen. However, on an airplane, I find that it is simply not possible to do either. Therefore, it is not just a struggle to sleep, but most of the night is spent struggling to get into a sleepable situation.
I am 6 feet 5 inches tall. The space between airplane seats is aproximately 3 feet. You do the math while I unravel myself from this pretzel shape I am in. Fortunate enough to have an aisle seat, I was able to stretch my left leg out in the center aisle and trip a stewardess every 5 minutes or so. They retaliated by running my foot over with a 200-pound meal service cart. I promptly surrendered, and my foot and I retreated to the little bubble of space that Delta had allotted me. Now I am faced with a decision. Either I slide my rear forward in the seat, so as to slouch into a somewhat reclining posture, or I slide my rear back and use the fold-down tray in front of me as a pillow. I tried one at a time, just to test the waters. Slouching put my knees within licking distance of my face. Although my knee would have been quite appetizing compared to my recent chicken dinner, I opted for the other method. Curled up in the fetal position, with my head in my arms on a plastic fold down tray, it occured to me that I probably look very much like I am regurgitating my chicken dinner. I could just imagine the smug smiles of self-satisfaction on the faces of the vegetarians around me as they knowingly motion to each other about the plight of my digestive system. After about 5 minutes of this pretzel charade, I abandoned all my attempts to arrange myself in a sleeping position (half of the criteria for a sleep attempt). The second half is also impossible, as the in-flight movies are "Hotel for Dogs," followed by "Yes Man." Watching even a preview for either of these movies would be the most boring 5 minutes of your life. Yet somehow, the full length features capture my attention just enough to make it unable to remember even one Jessica Alba film. Delta Airlines has beaten me once again. I cannot win. And to put the icing on the cake, I glanced around to see every vegetarian in a coma-like unconsciousness. I hope, purely out of spite, that there was something in the veggie pasta that killed them, and that they are not simply enjoying a good night of sleep.
So we arrived in Munich a bit tired, checked into the Wombat City Hostel, and proceeded to explore the city and kick off our backpacking tour of Europe in a grand and enjoyable style. We are thriving on the adventure, and cannot wait to find out what is up ahead. We have been learning a lot on this trip, and we have only just begun. But now I must go find something to eat at a local open-air beer garden, as I am starving. And I don't even care if it buries me at the bottom of the Ojibwe totem pole, I'll take the veggie pasta, thank you very much.
Winner Winner of an Airline Chicken Dinner
So I suppose I should tell you how I ended up in the Wombat (and WomBAR) in downtown Munich. I'm not sure who's idea it was, mine or my Dad's. Somehow we both decided that traveling Europe together for 3 weeks is something that needed to happen this summer. Our planned itinerary is Munich, Paris, Barcelona, Rome, Venice, and back to Munich. We picked Munich as a jumping on and jumping off place simply because (and this continues to baffle me) airfare to Germany is roughly the cost of a Happy Meal. Our plan is to use the EuRail system to travel in between cities, while staying in hostels for a few days in each destination.
We flew out of Minneapolis on Sunday, May 24th, had a layover in Atlanta, left the U.S. at 4:20pm, Central Daylight Time, and arrived in Munich at 1:00am, Central Daylight Time. The bad news is that this is 8:00am in the Munich time zone (aka serious jet lag). The good news (kind of) is that this means that the ever-generous Delta Airlines is compelled to serve us both dinner and breakfast. I have learned that the less aspiring an airline meal is, the better it is going to taste. For example, our breakfast was a bagel and cream cheese with a banana on the side. A perfect way to start the day. There are just not many corners in the food quality department that Delta Airlines can cut on a bagel/banana breakfast (although, I assure you, there is probably someone working around the clock on it). At any rate, breakfast was fantastic. Or maybe it just seemed fantastic compared to our dinner a few hours earlier. Our dinner choices aboard Delta Airlines Flight 103 out of Atlanta non-stop service to Munich were few. Two, to be exact. "Chicken breast and our vegetarian option, which is a vegetable pasta."
I have always held the conviction that "vegetarian" comes from an old Ojibwe word that meant "doesn't hunt well." So I assertively chose the chicken breast with a great deal of pride in my manhood. It was delivered to me in one of those plastic trays that has a clear cellophane cover with adhesive around the edges. I solemnly swear to you that the condensation on the inside of the cellophane actually spelled the words "recently microwaved." But, being a college student, I use a microwave more than my toothbrush. Therefore, I am not one to prioritize presentation or cooking procedures over fundamental taste enjoyment. But Delta Airlines seriously missed the flight on both procedure and taste. Instead of the steaming side of suculant poultry my stomach was craving, I had in my tray steaming strips of soggy poultry. Pre-cut into five strips that looked like they belonged in a fajita, my chicken was submerged in a broth that contained corn, black beans, and about 6 pounds of seasoning salt. It is often my suspician that when you see an overdose of sauces and spices, that means that it is a cover-up for meat of questionable quality. For example, the best way to destroy a tender filet mignon, and likewise, the best way to make a $2.50/lb round steak palateable, is to drown them in A1. I have always been under the impression that microwaves, by nature, cook things uniformly. Apparantly not the on-flight microwaves used by Delta. The fajita-strip on the far left had that rubbery lack of texture that is a sure giveaway that your chicken breast has not been sufficiently microwaved (believe me, this ain't my first rodeo). The fajita-strip on the far right was beyond dry. It was the kind of dry like when you run out of gravy at Thanksgiving and you have to take that last bite of white meat turkey with nothing to wash it down. Then you proceed to chew it all weekend and throughout most of the Christmas shopping season. You finally manage to swallow it on December 17th in the checkout line of Gander Mountain, and by that time, your new and massive jaw muscles have caused people who catch a glimpse of your chin to mistake you for Jay Leno. I was actually a little thankful for my dry little fajita strip, because it gave me something to do for the remaining 6 hours of the flight.
The middle three fajita strips were passable, but they still raised the suspicion that someone at the Delta Airlines Chicken Dinner Factory has aggressive investments in seasoning salt stock. My chicken dinner was complemented by a small garden salad. By small, I mean it consisted of exactly 11 pieces of iceberg lettuce. By garden salad, I mean that exactly 6 pieces of shredded carrot accompanied the lettuce. When I saw my salad, those pictures of starving children in Africa on the front of donation campaign ads for your local "Well-Meaning Charity Group That is Too Bogged Down in Inefficient Beaurocracy to Affect Any Actual Change" (WMCGTTBDIBAAAC). Just to clear up any confusion, I didn't think of the African children because I suddenly wanted to donate my salad to someone who needed/wanted it. I simply thought of the African children because my salad looked like one of them. The lettuce was wilted and the carrots were shriveled and starting to twist like Arbys'curly fries. Suddenly it dawned on me that there was an inexcusable absence of Arbys' curly fries from my plate of food, and I suddenly became quite angry with Delta's paltry fare. Therefore, I had pre-concieved ill will toward my rye bun before I even gave it a chance, all because I was wishing to God that it had been born a curly fry. As some sort of ironic reprimand about the morality of making such judgments, my rye bun turned out to be quite delicious. The last item that made up my Delta dinner was a packet of two wheat crackers and a container of "cheese food," which was ambitiously entitled "Gourmet Cheese." Now first of all, if something feels compelled to set the record straight that it is, in fact, a "food," then I am by no means interested. Secondly, if something feels the need to persuade you via pompous print on the wrapper that it is, in fact, "gourmet," then it is probably nothing of the sort. Gourmet food is when you go to a restaurant where you can't pronounce anything on the menu and the prices are not listed because "If you have to ask, you can't afford it." That is gourmet. Not a plastic container with a tin foil top who's contents have the consistency of peanut butter and a sickly pastel hue.
Regardless of my dinner's shortcomings, I shoveled it all into my face in a matter of minutes, like any true college kid would do with a free meal. Then I proceeded to attempt to attempt to sleep. No, that is not a typo. You see, when you attempt to sleep, you a) arrange yourself in a sleeping position, and b) think about the most recent Jessica Alba movie you have seen. However, on an airplane, I find that it is simply not possible to do either. Therefore, it is not just a struggle to sleep, but most of the night is spent struggling to get into a sleepable situation.
I am 6 feet 5 inches tall. The space between airplane seats is aproximately 3 feet. You do the math while I unravel myself from this pretzel shape I am in. Fortunate enough to have an aisle seat, I was able to stretch my left leg out in the center aisle and trip a stewardess every 5 minutes or so. They retaliated by running my foot over with a 200-pound meal service cart. I promptly surrendered, and my foot and I retreated to the little bubble of space that Delta had allotted me. Now I am faced with a decision. Either I slide my rear forward in the seat, so as to slouch into a somewhat reclining posture, or I slide my rear back and use the fold-down tray in front of me as a pillow. I tried one at a time, just to test the waters. Slouching put my knees within licking distance of my face. Although my knee would have been quite appetizing compared to my recent chicken dinner, I opted for the other method. Curled up in the fetal position, with my head in my arms on a plastic fold down tray, it occured to me that I probably look very much like I am regurgitating my chicken dinner. I could just imagine the smug smiles of self-satisfaction on the faces of the vegetarians around me as they knowingly motion to each other about the plight of my digestive system. After about 5 minutes of this pretzel charade, I abandoned all my attempts to arrange myself in a sleeping position (half of the criteria for a sleep attempt). The second half is also impossible, as the in-flight movies are "Hotel for Dogs," followed by "Yes Man." Watching even a preview for either of these movies would be the most boring 5 minutes of your life. Yet somehow, the full length features capture my attention just enough to make it unable to remember even one Jessica Alba film. Delta Airlines has beaten me once again. I cannot win. And to put the icing on the cake, I glanced around to see every vegetarian in a coma-like unconsciousness. I hope, purely out of spite, that there was something in the veggie pasta that killed them, and that they are not simply enjoying a good night of sleep.
So we arrived in Munich a bit tired, checked into the Wombat City Hostel, and proceeded to explore the city and kick off our backpacking tour of Europe in a grand and enjoyable style. We are thriving on the adventure, and cannot wait to find out what is up ahead. We have been learning a lot on this trip, and we have only just begun. But now I must go find something to eat at a local open-air beer garden, as I am starving. And I don't even care if it buries me at the bottom of the Ojibwe totem pole, I'll take the veggie pasta, thank you very much.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Tuesday, May 26th (Day 3)
This morning I went for a great 4-5 mile run which included a tour of a very interesting cemetery! It looked more like a park or forest because of the number of trees and the gravestones were huge. Many had life-size statues and others were covered with ivy. Most were as tall as me.
It was a great night's sleep after a long trip over. Today will be our only full day in Munich - no traveling!
Abel and I ate breakfast at the hostel. It was about $5 for all you can eat and we gorged ourselves on yogurt, fruit, juice, banannas, apples, and meat and cheese sandwiches. It's now 6pm and neither of us are hungry yet. I ate an apple a little bit ago and it filled me up.
After our breakfast binge, we decided to walk to a large park that is called "English Park." It's twice the size of New York's Central Park and is very nice. There are lots of small rivers running through it that are just begging to be canoed or tubed in. The water is very cold! After a full day of walking it felt great to soak our feet!
The park is full of forest, open lawns, and water. There are joggers, sunbathers, and bikers. It's a very relaxing place in which you forget that you are in the middle of a city of a million people.
The city of Munich is loaded with amazing arhitecture! We have seen more breathtaking buildings in two days than I've seen in my life. Most survived the world wars and look like they will be here for thousands of years more.
The cars in Munich are also interesting. There are no rust buckets and very few old cars. I think anyone who is driving in downtown Munich must be wealthy enough to afford a pretty nice car. They must sell their old cars to people who live out in the country - that's my theory.
We walked many miles today, but also spent some good time sitting, lounging, and I even fell asleep in the grass for a bit. It was a great day of experiencing Munich!
We don't have a plan or tonight or tomorrow. We may just lounge around tonight and we are talking about visiting a museum that is currently displaying King Tut's mummy. This is pretty exciting stuff, as I believe the closest King Tut has been to Duluth is Chicago. It may be a once in a lifetime chance to visit his highness!!!
The evening finished out on a slow note. It poured very hard rain for quite a while, so we were housebound. We spent some time reserving hostels for Paris and Barcelona. Everything is good through June 4th except for this Thursday night in Paris. For some reason, that night is difficult to find a place. Friday night is fine.
I was finally able to make a phone call home just before midnight. There is a place right next door that has phone booths and allows you to call for 12 cents per minute (Euro cents). For some reason, numbers to Duluth don't work there, though other USA numbers work fine. I went to another place a block away and it worked fine. It's a strange world!
I spent some time with Abel looking over his journal writing for the trip. He's very good - it makes my feeble attempts at writing look pretty grade-schoolish. I hope to get his files and post them here.
I also need to work on pictures. We thought the camera memory card would connect directly to his computer, but no success with that. I don't have a cable for the camera, so I may need to buy one. I'd like to get some pics posted here.
Day #3 is done. Day #4 will be another day in Munich, followed by an overnight train ride to Paris. Should be interesting! We each have a 'couchette' reserved, which will hopefully make for a good night's sleep while we travel.
It was a great night's sleep after a long trip over. Today will be our only full day in Munich - no traveling!
Abel and I ate breakfast at the hostel. It was about $5 for all you can eat and we gorged ourselves on yogurt, fruit, juice, banannas, apples, and meat and cheese sandwiches. It's now 6pm and neither of us are hungry yet. I ate an apple a little bit ago and it filled me up.
After our breakfast binge, we decided to walk to a large park that is called "English Park." It's twice the size of New York's Central Park and is very nice. There are lots of small rivers running through it that are just begging to be canoed or tubed in. The water is very cold! After a full day of walking it felt great to soak our feet!
The park is full of forest, open lawns, and water. There are joggers, sunbathers, and bikers. It's a very relaxing place in which you forget that you are in the middle of a city of a million people.
The city of Munich is loaded with amazing arhitecture! We have seen more breathtaking buildings in two days than I've seen in my life. Most survived the world wars and look like they will be here for thousands of years more.
The cars in Munich are also interesting. There are no rust buckets and very few old cars. I think anyone who is driving in downtown Munich must be wealthy enough to afford a pretty nice car. They must sell their old cars to people who live out in the country - that's my theory.
We walked many miles today, but also spent some good time sitting, lounging, and I even fell asleep in the grass for a bit. It was a great day of experiencing Munich!
We don't have a plan or tonight or tomorrow. We may just lounge around tonight and we are talking about visiting a museum that is currently displaying King Tut's mummy. This is pretty exciting stuff, as I believe the closest King Tut has been to Duluth is Chicago. It may be a once in a lifetime chance to visit his highness!!!
The evening finished out on a slow note. It poured very hard rain for quite a while, so we were housebound. We spent some time reserving hostels for Paris and Barcelona. Everything is good through June 4th except for this Thursday night in Paris. For some reason, that night is difficult to find a place. Friday night is fine.
I was finally able to make a phone call home just before midnight. There is a place right next door that has phone booths and allows you to call for 12 cents per minute (Euro cents). For some reason, numbers to Duluth don't work there, though other USA numbers work fine. I went to another place a block away and it worked fine. It's a strange world!
I spent some time with Abel looking over his journal writing for the trip. He's very good - it makes my feeble attempts at writing look pretty grade-schoolish. I hope to get his files and post them here.
I also need to work on pictures. We thought the camera memory card would connect directly to his computer, but no success with that. I don't have a cable for the camera, so I may need to buy one. I'd like to get some pics posted here.
Day #3 is done. Day #4 will be another day in Munich, followed by an overnight train ride to Paris. Should be interesting! We each have a 'couchette' reserved, which will hopefully make for a good night's sleep while we travel.
Monday, May 25th (Day 2)
I'm not sure when Monday officially started for us. We were flying over the Atlantic when it happened. We arrived in Munich at about 8am Central European time. We had two meals on the trip over. A chicken dinner shortly after takeoff and a bagel breakfast shortly before touchdown.
It took us a little while to get oriented at the airport. We made it into the country with no problem. No forms to fill out, or anything like that. We got some Euro cash, found the train system, and navigated our way to the hostel. The biggest glitch was when I forgot which hostel we had reserved. It was one of two and I lost the coin toss. So, we had to walk a few extra blocks after going to the wrong place.
After dropping off our things, we took a nice long afternoon walk around Munich. It is quite warm - it has to be in the eighties.
I took a good three hour nap after showering. After that I finally felt human again. I was pretty tired! We had a nice evening dinner in an outdoor beer garden and did some more walking around town. It's very cool and peaceful around town right now.
We met a man named Sebastian on the train. He was very friendly and gave us some tips about Munich. He is a computer instructor, so we had a few things to discuss in our very brief visit. We also met one hostel mate from Australia (and temporarily living in Canada). Laim is his name and he is very outgoing.
It took us a little while to get oriented at the airport. We made it into the country with no problem. No forms to fill out, or anything like that. We got some Euro cash, found the train system, and navigated our way to the hostel. The biggest glitch was when I forgot which hostel we had reserved. It was one of two and I lost the coin toss. So, we had to walk a few extra blocks after going to the wrong place.
After dropping off our things, we took a nice long afternoon walk around Munich. It is quite warm - it has to be in the eighties.
I took a good three hour nap after showering. After that I finally felt human again. I was pretty tired! We had a nice evening dinner in an outdoor beer garden and did some more walking around town. It's very cool and peaceful around town right now.
We met a man named Sebastian on the train. He was very friendly and gave us some tips about Munich. He is a computer instructor, so we had a few things to discuss in our very brief visit. We also met one hostel mate from Australia (and temporarily living in Canada). Laim is his name and he is very outgoing.
Sunday, May 24th (Day 1)
A big travel day! We left Duluth at 6:30am. Carl was nice enough to drive us down. We got to the airport in plenty of time for our 11:30 flight. The only glitch was that Tom forgot to bring his frequent flyer code to get credit for the miles. Abel called a friend who looked it up in his (Abel's) email.
The flight to Atlanta was quick- only about two hours in the air. After a very short layover, we took off for Germany. The flight actually went up the east coast, through Canada, across to London, and down to Germany. Seems roundabout to me, but it must be best!
This was my first overnight flight and it was interesting to watch the sun set and rise so quickly! Not much sleep for either of us.
The flight to Atlanta was quick- only about two hours in the air. After a very short layover, we took off for Germany. The flight actually went up the east coast, through Canada, across to London, and down to Germany. Seems roundabout to me, but it must be best!
This was my first overnight flight and it was interesting to watch the sun set and rise so quickly! Not much sleep for either of us.
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