An American Studies Major in Paris: Giving the French an Eiffel of Red, White, and Blue

First of all, I must clarify that the only time I acted like an obnoxious American in Paris was while I was taking this picture. The rest of the time I assimilated perfectly, and I looked more like this:
In addition to outclassing the French with my wardrobe and love for art, I actually learned a little bit of the language as well. Which isn't bad when you consider that getting on the plane I knew about as much French as a sassy group of Irish girls who think it's okay to use asterisks in the middle of words.

We arrived in Paris Thursday night, and by the time we made it from the airport to our hostel, checked in, and took care of all that nonsense the city was already beckoning us to come take part in its crazy world of berets, mustaches, and haughty laughter. What better way to get started than to head for the Eiffel Tower? We approached the golden tower from the park, walked under it, and crossed the Seine River on our way to find a nice viewing area. 2009 marks the 120 year anniversary of the tower and so every night there is a spectacular light show on the hour from seven to midnight until the end of the year. Like you didn't see that one coming. Anyway, we posted up on top of some museum across the river, oohed and aahed at the changing colors, and I ate the bocadillo that Lola packed me.

After we were able to stop staring at the Eiffel Tower we went for a stroll around the city, getting to know her, and taking in how dolled up she looked at night. We saw the Arc de Triomphe, walked down Champs-Élysées, and stopped at the Élysée Palace, the Place de la Concorde, the Madeline, and the Louvre. By the time we got to the Louvre it was just Bryant and I left and we got so wrapped up in the romantic mood that we had to run back to the hostel to make it in time for our 2 a.m. curfew.

Friday morning we went to a bakery down the road for a nice French breakfast of quiche and croissants. It was so good that we ended up going back there Saturday and Sunday. I'd spend the time to explain each of our visits but they all went exactly the same way, we always ordered the same things, and it always turned out like this. After breakfast we decided to climb the Eiffel Tower since it was a clear morning and we weren't sure what the weather would be like for the rest of the weekend. We took the stairs as far as we could but ended up having to take the elevator for the last part of the climb. That elevator was nothing to sneeze at though because it was packed and I was pressed up against the glass door, and as I stared down at the ground quickly dropping further away from me I hoped that the doors didn't open. To make a short story short, they didn't and we all had a good time enjoying the views from the top of the tower.

Once our shoes hit the ground we went on a search for the cheapest lunch Paris had to offer. We found it at a gyro place, and we all ordered gyros and French fries, or “fries” as they called them. After a little lunch on the river we walked down to the Notre Dame cathedral. This was where I encountered one of the biggest surprises of the trip: how most of the major tourist attractions in the city are free for students. Once we walked around the cathedral and we felt that we had gotten our money's worth we grabbed an espresso and continued on to the Louvre. The Louvre also happened to be free for students under 26, but since I was dressed like a professor and didn't have anything with my birthday on it, the lady couldn't fathom how someone under 26 could have such chiseled features and made me buy a ticket. I couldn't blame her too much, I mean I have walked by a mirror. Well it turned out that luck would smile on me once again because when I paid for my ticket with a 10 she gave me change for a 20. Now I don't know if she did this on purpose but I didn't stay to find out, and instead I proceeded to peruse the Louvre while essentially getting paid 4€. About as far from shabby as you can get. I really enjoyed the almost four hours we were in the Louvre, we saw a lot of stuff, a lot of famous pieces, and I was able to see works by all four of the ninja turtles, so I was happy.

For dinner we went to a restaurant in the Latin Quarter where I enjoyed some delicious duck, some fine French wine, and some excellent conversation. I feel like now is a good time to point out how surprised I was to find out how friendly the French people were to us. Based on everything I'd heard, I was expecting to get disrespected worse than the only bathroom at a Chinese buffet. However, this was not the case. Pretty much all the people we encountered were very nice, helpful, and not at all rude as they listened to us slowly butcher their language. Friday night's waiter was no exception, and I would say that I probably learned most of my French from him. After dinner we got more wine and walked to the Pantheon and ended up sitting outside the Luxembourg gardens and palace. One complaint I did have about the city though was the nightlife. I walked around a good amount of that city and I stumbled upon very few places where a boy like myself can go when he's looking for a good time. I'm not saying that they don't exist, it just shouldn't be that hard.

Saturday we woke up and got ready to spend the whole day at Versailles. This is the part of the trip I was most pumped about: so much history, so much gold, and the possibility of a hedge maze. The palace was huge, the garden was huge, and I spent the whole day pretending I was Ben Franklin negotiating on behalf of the new American nation (I really enjoyed that book). It was a great, full day, and even better because it was all free. When we got back to Paris we were all hungry and it was raining so we stopped in some place for an early dinner. I ate some beef with Brie, it was yummy, but it was a good thing everything else was free because I spent most of my money on food and wine. After dinner we walked back to the Place de la Concorde to show the rest of the group. From the old obelisk in the center you can see the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, the Madeline, and if you squint really hard you can see the Louvre, so it's a nice spot at night. A girl we met up with wasn't there Thursday night when we were at the Arc so we decided to start walking in that direction. We started to see all these cops hanging around and a lot of them were wearing riot gear. We were wondering what was going on when we starting seeing cars drive by honking their horns, with people halfway out of them, waving Algerian flags and yelling in Arabic. Obviously this looked like a good time so we followed the cars down Champs-Élysées, where things were getting a little more crazy. People were going nuts all up and down the street, screaming, hanging out of cars, throwing fireworks, flares, and whatever they could get their hands on. Eventually we decided that this was a celebratory scene and that it was soccer related. We found out that Algeria had played Egypt earlier in the so-called hate match, so we assumed that they won. What I still don't understand is that Algeria actually lost 2-0, but it seemed like they just figured, “Hey, we already bought all these flares and flags so we might as well use them,” and took to the streets anyway. Whatever the reason, it was a pretty tense situation, and though we didn't see anything bad happen, we could tell that it was the type of situation that could turn in an instant. Of course, these colors don't run, but I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I would've traded my sweater/blazer combo for my American flag shirt for anything less than $20. Make that euro. Check out the video.

After the riot scene had been pretty much exhausted we trekked back to the Eiffel Tower to catch another light show. We grabbed some more wine and hung out for a little while longer looking at pretty buildings then retired to the hostel for some pillow talk.

Sunday we woke up took some more pictures of that darn tower, and then, at my request, tried to find the miniature Lady Liberty that is somewhere in the Seine. Apparently it is very miniature because I never saw it. After that we went to the Musée d'Orsay, which holds a lot of impressionist works. Even though we had to pay for this museum, it was alright because I really enjoyed all the art in there, even more so than the Louvre. After a quick lunch it was time to rush frantically to the airport and say au revoir to the City of Love.

In the end (from the start) Paris won me over with its charm and although I represented well, I did not end up having to put a boot in anyone's ass. In all honestly though, I loved Paris and had a great time. Although, when I think about it, having a bad time in Paris would be harder than naming two B*Witched songs.

Besitos,

Jim

Seville Service: Spreading Halloween Cheer Throughout Andalucia

First things first...HALLOWEEEEEEENNNN!!

Thursday night we boarded a night train because where we were going we didn’t need roads. I carried with me a bocadillo from Lola, a bottle of wine, and the good news that the U.S. had finally made it out of the recession. The whole night train thing was new to me and I was excited to lie down in a bed, let the rails rock me to sleep, and wake up miles away. However, the prospect of a growing economy was too good to ignore, so we spent most of the ride in the dining car toasting the night away. Whether it was true or not did not matter in the slightest. I woke up a little after six to the sound of the train lady banging on the door of our compartment with my headphones in and my disconnected iPod strung out on the middle of the floor with the battery drained, playing “Baby, Baby” by Amy Grant.

So there we were in Granada, and it wasn’t even light out yet. We decided to find a place where we could drop our bags, and then we went to a café to wait until we could go into the Alhambra. For those of you who don’t know, The Alhambra is a giant old palace from when the Moors were hanging out in Spain, the last place to be re-conquered by the Christians in 1492, and Spain’s most popular tourist attraction. Armed with the knowledge I’d acquired from the tourist book in Lola’s bathroom, I began to give everyone a tour. Much like the troops under King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella, who laid siege to the city for seven months, we walked like warriors up the hill to the giant complex. It is really just a huge fortress that I was very excited to see and it did not disappoint. We saw great examples of some beautiful Moorish architecture, strolled through the gardens, enjoyed some magnificent views of the city, glimpsed where Washington Irving wrote Tales of the Alhambra, and stood in the same room where Columbus secured royal support for the voyage that discovered America. You know I was pumped. Go on a little tour yourself through these amateur photographs that feature one semi-pro model. Photo credits: Sharon Casola.

After the Alhambra we enjoyed a nice long Spanish lunch, toured the cathedral, walked around the old Moorish neighborhoods, and did some bartering for some Technicolor dream coats. In the end I decided that the tie-dye hoodie that I made myself was of much better quality, so I walked away empty-handed. After all that we were still feeling pretty Moor-y, so we decided to sit down for some hookah until it was time to take the train to Seville. We lost track of time while we were wondering what kind of person teaches their toddler how to walk inside of a hookah lounge and ended up running to the train station, making it just in time.

Since I was the resident expert on all things Andalucian (Lola is a great cook, but let’s just say the food gives me plenty of time to read), I had a list of semi-secret places we could go catch some authentic, spontaneous flamenco. After we checked in to our hostel, grabbed some food, and I called my mom for her birthday, we decided to head to the closer of the two places I picked out. It was an old carbon warehouse with a really cool vibe. We got there just as they were closing up so I wish we had gotten there earlier, but it was still nice just to hang out there and have a beer.

The next morning (Halloweeeeeen!) we woke up and went straight to the largest cathedral in Europe. It used to be an old mosque but when the Christians took over they said “nah uh” and turned it into a massive cathedral, but they kept the orange tree garden, so that was kinda cool. We climbed up the massive tower, la Giralda, which is supposed to be the girlfriend of the tower here in Valencia, el Miguelete, but she was a lot bigger.

After that we went to a great tapas place where we sampled all kinds of wild things, like bull tail and pigs cheek. Both were very good, but I preferred the pig cheek since it was less work. Here’s me making sure I get all the meat off that succulent bull tail:

From there we headed to the Alcazar, which is just another Moorish palace, but this time we got in free because we were students. Very similar to the Alhambra, just not on a giant hill, the Alcazar was very beautiful. We were able to see some of it, but unfortunately not that much. You see, the Alcazar has a top notch hedge maze and we got a little side-tracked playing tag and pretending we were in Harry Potter and the Goble of Fire, which we did until it got dark, the place closed, and the cops came into the hedge maze and told us we had to leave. Whatever, we had a great time.

Next we did a little more touring of the city, but we knew we had to get back to a square near the cathedral because our waitress had tipped us off that there would be like, a hundred zombies doing the “Thriller” dance there. This was obviously something we were into, so we went there to wait and felt encouraged when we saw TV cameras there. Buuuut, it ended up just being about six zombies, two of which were too drunk to dance. For those of you who are not engineer, six is a lot less than one hundred. And I don’t know about the Sevillians (get it?), or the Seville engineers (get it?), but in the good ol’ U.S. of A. six drunk zombies dancing to Michael Jackson isn’t newsworthy, it’s a J.M.U. pregame.

Now that the witching hour had officially arrived, we decided it was time to start putting together some costumes. Some ideas were tossed around and I thought I had brought enough dumb clothes that I could put together a sufficient costume, but it was still lacking that true Halloween spirit, you know, the kind that really gets your fist pumping. It was then that we turned to one of my favorite places in Spain: the Chino shop. Note: Spaniards refer to all Asian immigrants as Chinos, and Chino shops are the wonderful places that these immigrants have opened up where they sell everything under the sun at bargain bin prices. I consider them the Goodwills of Spain, except the stuff doesn’t have as much history. This particular Chino shop happened to have exactly what I needed: a full Santa Claus costume (ages 10-12) for five euro. It was a true Halloween miracle.

I giddily made it back to our hostel where obviously I popped the sleeves off my Santa-vest, threw on my Santa-capris, tightened my Santa-belt, donned my Santa-cap, and as a finishing touch, snapped on my Santa-beard. I was a very jolly boy. We then went up to the roof terrace of our hostel where we hooked up with some other costumed travelers and finagled our way onto a pub-crawl for only one euro. The miracles just wouldn’t stop. I half expected John Arms O’Neils to pop out dressed as the Easter Bunny. Or a T-Rex. I feel like this has gotten long, so I’ll just sum up the pub-crawl with this picture and tell you that my favorite part was probably walking between bars telling the bewildered Spanish people on the street that there were only 55 more days ‘til Christmas. Well, I should also tell you that the Sevillians didn’t get my Sevillians joke.

In conclusion, I’m glad I was able to add a little bit of Christmas flavor to the spooky night that is Halloween. I just hope the opposite doesn’t happen and I get a visit from the South Bend Shovel Slayer. I might have to file a Seville suit.

Besitos,

Jim

Calpe Diem

I can´t believe that nobody told me that Calpe was going to be cool. The only reason I signed up to go to this place over two hours away from Valencia was because it was free, meaning that I had already paid for it in my tuition and fees. Imagine my surprise when Calpe turned out to be one of my favorite places in Spain.

Spain is the kind of country where you have to set an alarm if you have to be anywhere at 1:30 p.m. (either that or just be late), so I did just that and groggily made my way to where the bus was picking everyone up. After everyone traded stories about the night before and I learned what I had climbed, faces started landing against the glass and I cruised to the new Avett Brothers album until we got there. Upon arrival I immediately began to realize that Calpe was going to be a good time. All I had to do was look around and see the giant Peñon de Ifach to know that I was going to enjoy myself.

As soon as I saw that giant rock I knew I had to stand on top of it. It was a perfect day, it really was an awesome hike, and it really started to get fun once we got off the gravel path and started actually climbing up rocks. By far the best hike I've ever been on. After about ten minutes I decided it was the perfect time to pop my shirt off, and pop my shirt off I did. It took the most experienced climbers (me and a guy named Jake) about 40 minutes to reach the top. When we got there we took note of the beautiful views and felt as free as the spirits of those who left. Seriously though, it was a spectacular 360 degree view. You can see Ibiza from the top. We also took note of all the stray cats that lived on top of the Peñon. It´s amazing where some animals end up. I thought to myself, “I've seen this before. I know what I have to do.” and I did it. After a while the scrubs, peasants, what have you started to show up and we started doing fun things like eat sandwiches and take pictures. We stayed up there for who knows how long, but I know I was the last to leave. Me and this club of boys I have here stayed and explored some more, then I peed off the top, and then we made our way back down. We then walked along the beach as the sun set. The sky at this point was all kinds of beautiful. We walked past the Baños de la Reina (The Queen´s Baths), which is basically an ancient fish farm. Nothing special, but was kinda cool. Come on, I was just one top of the world and I´m supposed to get excited by an ancient fish farm? What did eventually get me excited though was the parade we entered at the end of our sunset beach-walk. Oh you didn't know? It´s ok, I didn´t know about the parade either, I thought this whole trip was going to be to some museum about how the Christians reconquered the Moors. Never mind that all of this information, including a picture of the Peñon de Ifach, was on the flyer. All the flyer had to say was “free” and I would've gone. Plus, I like it better that way, being pleasantly surprised all day long. I was so pleasantly surprised that I was building up the Christians vs. Moors festival so much, I was hoping it was going to be a Medieval Times/Dixie Stampede-type situation.

Unfortunately it wasn't like that, it was just a regular parade, but I still had a great time. I feel that parades are incredibly underrated in our society, and I believe that that is just plain wrong. So, get out and start talking up those parades until they get their due. I'll start. The parade in Calpe was about the Christians and the Moors, and it was so much fun. I spent about two hours in a row just sitting on a building waving and blowing kissing at queens, hoping that they would return the favor. After the parade we enjoyed some delicious tapas on the beach, then boarded the bus back to Valencia.

The parade in Calpe was like a mix of this parade and the parade found at 5:47 here. Weird, considering I participated in this parade earlier. Life really does move in circles.

Hustle Through Brussels

Since I only spent about 14 hours in Brussels, I’m not going to devote that much space to it in the blog. The only reason we went there was to catch a cheap flight, but I am very glad that we did. Once we decided that we would fly out of Brussels, I set two, and only two, goals for the city: drink Belgian beer and eat Belgian waffles. However, after I learned that Belgian waffles are pretty much just another one of those things from a foreign country that you hear about that isn’t real, like Chinese food or Ricky Rubio, I substituted mussels for waffles. I can happily say that I achieved both goals. Note the solid backpacker beard I picked up over the course of our ten days.

We ordered mussels at a nice place on a tiny street, and then we went to the Delirium Café to sample some of their 2004 beers. Those Belgian beers have a lot of alcohol, so its a good thing that drunk nights get remembered more than sober ones. As you can see, Brussels quickly became a highlight of the trip. We even sprung for a hotel for our last night, so between the mussels, the beer, and the hotel room, it felt like we were Lamborghini livin’. (What does that mean?)

I had a head full of fond memories as we took the bus to the Charleroi airport. Brussels was the perfect end to a perfect trip. Then I jumped on my blue stallion and rode back to Valencia.

Amsterdamp

Yes it rained while we were in Amsterdam, but not anymore than it did in any other city we were in that week. So I guess that can’t be the only reason that I chose to title this entry “Amsterdamp.” If I’m going to be honest, I mainly chose it because it was the only one that made me kind of giggle when I said it. So of course, I have to make it work. The reasons I’ve settled on it are: 1) it fits with the tradition of wordplay I’ve started here; 2) it sounds less lame than “Amsterdam It!” and “Going Dutch!” (I know I amplified their lameness by throwing in exclamation points); and 3) it did rain while we were there and the city of Amsterdam actually has more canals than Venice, making it pretty damp. That’s enough to satisfy me.

I was pretty excited about Amsterdam, I’d obviously heard good things, but if I’m being completely honest, it was my least favorite city of trip. It seems like it would be a great time, a place that seems like it knows how to party. However, as we all know, something can be advertised as something completely different than what it actually is. I don’t want to give anybody the wrong impression; I had a great time in Amsterdam. It just wasn’t what I was expecting. For example, Berlin has the exact same laws regarding prostitution, public urination, basically all the fun stuff, as Amsterdam, they just don’t flaunt it. Amsterdam is like the Disney World for stoners and johns. Buuut that’s not all there is to the city, there is plenty of worthwhile stuff in the city once you get beyond the high (2x) schoolers wearing rasta hats that are staring at the prostitutes.

We arrived Thursday night from Berlin, checked in to our hostel and just had a nice relaxing night walking around the canals and the Red Light District. The next morning we woke up and started walking around looking for some traditional Dutch breakfast. We found a nice place and I decided pass on the Holland oats and get some pancakes or crepes, whatever you call them, hot off the Dutch oven.

After breakfast we went to the Van Gogh Museum expecting a long line, but we were able to walk right in. It was pretty interesting to see that nutjob’s paintings up close and personal. After the museum we all knocked on each other’s doors and asked our moms if we could go ride bikes in the park. Lucky for us they said yes, so we rented some bikes and spent the afternoon riding through the Vondelpark. After that we went out for Indonesian food, which is supposed to be good in Amsterdam. It was good, but the whole city was just so freaking expensive. I swear I don’t hate it. After dinner we went out, but again, Amsterdam was not what I hoped it would be. Out of all the cities we visited I would not have thought that Amsterdam would have the lamest night lift. I felt like I was in Charlottesville the way we were kicked out of bars at 2 a.m. Oh well, at least I got more sleep than I was used to.

The next morning, in an effort to amend my opinion of the city, we once again hooked up with New Europe and went on a walking tour. It worked, I enjoyed seeing all the beautiful buildings, canals, bridges, and prostitutes the city has to offer, as well as learning the history behind all of it. Even if our guide was a weird New Zealander.

So I guess it’s a little complicated between Amsterdam and I right now, I’m not sure what to think. I think a lot of it has to do with how actually amazing the rest of the trip was, as well as my probably unfair expectations. It just occurred to me how spoiled I sound. I think I’m already starting to remember it in a better light.

I Got Low in the Netherlands!

Berlin: Under Prussia

Ok, now that my midterms are over I can get back to what is really important: blogging. Last time we checked in I was at the train station in Prague. We had a problem and didn’t know what was wrong. We kept guessing on ways to fix it, but nothing was working. We kept trying different things but the problem was confusing everybody, it was like we’d never seen anything like it before. But then, right at the end of this little episode, we figured out the solution and everything worked out. Due to that little distraction we arrived in Berlin a little late so we just grabbed some kebab and took the S-bahn to our hostel. Once again we just threw our stuff in the room and went out to explore our next city. Based on a recommendation from the guy at the front desk (the hostel in Berlin was great, Baxpax, definitely recommend it to anybody headed in that direction) we made our way to a nearby bar/club. The club was exactly what I wanted. It felt really Berliny, and I had a blast there. There was graffiti on the walls, cardboard security cameras, a fire-breathing dragon (real fire), and just a really cool vibe. It was perfect example of the East Berlin minimalist scene. Not only that, but the playlist was banging. Out of this world. Seriously, I was inspired. He wasn’t that great of a D.J., meaning D.J. skills, but his song selection was impeccable. He had me at hello and kept me until good morning, beautiful. My dude played everything from Dr. Dre, to Donavon Frankenreiter, to the now-obligatory Grease soundtrack, to Gossip and the Talking effing Heads. You know I put on a show on the dance floor.

The next morning we woke up and continued the city touring system. New Europe picked us up at the hostel and we walked to the Brandenburg Gate to meet up with our tour group. Once again we got very lucky with our guide. The walking tour in Berlin was definitely one of my favorite parts of the entire trip. It was exactly what Extra-American Studies is all about. Our 5’4” guide from NYU made me consider space and place throughout the entire tour and I felt like I was back in an American Studies class, only in Berlin. I loved it. I don’t know how he fit so much information, enthusiasm, and humor into such a tiny body. Our free tour lasted over four hours and we saw so much. We started out in Pariser Platz where we saw the Brandenburg Gate and saw where this happened. We saw the outside of the Reichstag, the German parliament, but we didn’t get to go in because they were cleaning. This was one of the things I was most looking forward to because people can go inside and look down and see the representatives in action and they can look up reminding them whom they work for. I regret not being able to go in about as much as Bruce Willis regrets this commercial.

We saw the controversial Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, which I liked even though it has been criticized. I enjoy how it is an interactive memorial; you can walk through the giant slabs and feel a sense of loneliness and uneasiness. It is also centrally located in a position that forces people to recognize it, something that many Germans would have a hard time doing on their own. It was also interesting seeing it after we had just been in the Jewish cemetery in Prague, which was a main inspiration for the memorial. Then we stopped in a random parking lot and our guide informed us that we were standing above where Hitler shot himself in his bunker at the end of the war. There was nothing there. The juxtaposition of the contrasting uses of space in the memorial and the parking lot was particularly thought provoking. We saw what was left of the Berlin Wall (not much), and Checkpoint Charlie. We saw all the old, beautiful buildings from when Berlin was under Prussia. I also enjoyed the Nazi book-burning memorial, a window in the ground in the middle of Bebelplatz that shows empty bookshelves, as well as the Memorial to the Victims of War and Tyranny. After the tour we went to the East Side Gallery and watched the original 1990 artists re-do their pieces of the wall. We also posed for some album cover photos. After resting and warming up because Berlin was cold as frick, we set out to find the German dinner that I’d been hoping for. Turns out the traditional German food I was thinking about is more from the southern part of the country, but I was still able to find plenty of meat, potatoes, and beer, so I was happy. After dinner we decided to make our on pub crawl and started out at a bar called Acapulco where I drank enough tequila to earn two pairs of Jose Cuervo dog tabs, and one pair of Jose Cuervo fingerless gloves. Needless to say, I was pumped. Then we went to an absinthe bar and sat on couches and drank absinthe. It was a fun time and felt very European. The couches started to make everyone sleepy (it definitely wasn't the tequila and absinthe), so we decided it was time to head to our prime destination, a club that our tour guide told us about. The club had one rule: no cameras. He said that the first floor was full of leather daddies, and if that wasn’t your thing you could go upstairs where they had an ice cream parlor, a swing set, and a maze. Now, as cool as that sounds, you probably see where this is going. I’m telling you what he said because we didn’t actually make it inside. We found the semi-hidden club, which looked like an abandoned mental hospital, but it was closed on this particular Wednesday. I regret not being able to go in about as much as Bruce Willis regrets this commercial. I wish we could’ve travelled Europe on a week full of Saturdays, but those don't exist yet. There was however, an underground club that was open next to it, but we decided to pass on that and head back to the club near our hostel, especially since I was now dressed for it. As you can tell, I really embraced the East Berlin minimalist scene.The combination of absinthe and tequila did wonders for my dance moves, but unfortunately it couldn’t do anything about the D.J. who was very weak and was dressed like a waiter. And his mustache sucked.

On Thursday we took the train to Sachsenhausen, a concentration camp about an hour north of Berlin, which was later used as a Soviet special camp. The camp was cold, rainy and miserable, but there was no possible way that we could complain. There’s not much else to say, because I like to consider this a fun blog, but I'll echo the words of our tour guide and recommend that everyone go to a concentration camp at some point in their life. It is important to remember the struggles that different types of people have endured so that we can do our best to improve this world.

I feel like we scrambled around Berlin like crazy but there is still so much that I want to see. Berlin is the first place that I’ve visited where I already feel like I have to go back. Definitely my favorite city of the fall break trip. It is just really a cool city and it reminds us that we must live it up, because this is our last chance; this is ourselves.

Besitos,

Jim

Czech Out My Prague Blague!

As our train pulled in to the Czech Republic, we could immediately tell that we had arrived in Eastern Europe because of the sounds: the barking dogs and crying babies of communism. However, we weren’t exactly sure where we were supposed to get off. At this point we had successfully navigated five train transfers in the past 14 hours and we were feeling pretty good about ourselves. I immediately realized how clueless we really were when the only girl in our group of five got off the train and yelled in her thick Jersey accent to anyone who could hear, “Is thiiiis Praaague?” The answer was a resounding “no” and we all giggled all the way to the actual station.

We arrived late (11:30) and hit the ground running, looking for crowns (the Czech’s dumb currency) and some street meat, but all we found was some guy shooting heroin in a doorway. Prague was not making a good first impression. However, things picked up pretty fast and we found an ATM, withdrew some 2000 crown bills, found some food, and checked in to our hostel. We dropped off our stuff and headed out to check out the Prague nightlife, specifically the Karlovy Lazne, which claims to be the largest club in Europe with five floors. Before we went there we heard live music and ducked into this underground Irish bar and listened to some guys play some Bob Dylan covers and I got to watch the only live football I’ve seen in Europe. Real football, the Broncos beating the Pats in overtime, not that ish I went to last Thursday where the score was 1-1 and everyone left happy. (To be fair, I actually do like soccer; I play at least once a week here and I enjoy watching it. I just really miss American football and American sports in general. However, in absolutely no way do I miss Joe Buck.) After the bar closed up we made our way toward the Charles Bridge and the largest club in Europe. We paid a dirt-cheap cover and checked our coats and began to explore this monstrosity. The place was incredible: five floors, probably ten different dance floors, maybe twenty bars, several cages, podiums, and about 18 people. The place was EMPTY. Prague hates to party on Sunday nights. I can’t judge it too hard, I’m sure the place is awesome on Friday and Saturday, but on this particular Sunday it was a joke. That is not to say that I didn’t have a good time. We pounded beers in a space capsule, danced to Grease with some 40 year-olds on a light-up tile floor, and creepily watched some Czech high schoolers from some futuristic chairs. Then we danced out of there and climbed some statues before heading to bed.

The next morning was when we started our city-touring system that worked pretty effectively. When we woke up we sought out our first New Europe tour. New Europe might be the sweetest company ever and definitely made my experiences on this trip infinitely better. The company gives free walking tours in many major European cities and you’re just supposed to tip your guide if you feel they deserve it. For our Prague tour we had a great guide, saw a lot of the city, and learned a good deal of the history, which can best be described as the Czech people getting repeatedly walked over. After the free tour we decided to pay for a tour of the Prague castle. However, this time the guide wasn’t that great, mainly because he allowed it to start raining. Everything we saw was beautiful and cool, but we were all very cold and wet after walking around for eight hours so we were ready to get back to the hostel. We only had a little bit of time to rest before we were meeting a girl we met in Interlaken who is studying in Prague for dinner, but we made the most of it. I cuddled up in my warm, dry bed next to the radiator and crushed Swiss chocolate like Madam Pomfrey gave it to me. It worked like a charm.

We got a nice cheap dinner (everything in Prague is cheap) and then, determined to see more people than the night before, decided to go on a pub crawl. Now, there is a time and a place for the Prague pub crawl story, and unfortunately this is not it. Let’s just say that I felt like Preson on his first date with Shay in the movie Blank Check. Let your imaginations run wild. So anyway, I got in after 5 a.m., but because I am the warrior I got up at nine to see more of the city. We went to the Lennon Wall, a wall that has been painted with Beatles-inspired quotes and images since the 80s. The wall might be my favorite part of the visit. Love is love. We walked across the Charles Bridge, stopped at the statue of St. John Nepomuk, and rubbed the two plaques, one for luck and one for fertility. I hope I get lucky and don’t use my fertility any time soon. We then went to the Jewish district to see the Holocaust Memorial and the Jewish cemetery. The memorial was very interesting, similar to the Vietnam Memorial; it had the names of all the Jews from the Czech Republic that died in the Holocaust written on the walls. It is very simple and the amount of names that cover the walls in several rooms force you to reflect on the horrible atrocity that was the Holocaust. The other amazing part of the memorial was the exhibit of artwork by Jewish children in the ghettoes. A teacher started an art therapy program for the children and was able to hide a lot of the artwork before she was taken away so it could be preserved. It is a remarkable and moving idea that really fleshes out the victims of the Holocaust. The cemetery is very unique; it is above ground level and full of unmarked, slanted tombstones. The cemetery served as an inspiration for the memorial in Berlin, which we would see the next day.

After our last bit of touring we grabbed some goulash and our bags from the hostel and headed to the train station for the biggest little disaster of the trip. Before, all of our trains had been perfect, running exactly at the times that were listed in the timetable that came with our Eurail passes. However, when we got to the train station our train to Berlin wasn’t on the board. Now Czech is a weird language and I thought that maybe they said Berlin differently. We asked around for help, but didn’t find any because people kept telling us that Berlin was Berlin. They obviously didn’t understand that we were asking what Berlin was in Czech. There was a train that was leaving and arriving at the same time, in a place called “Vsetín,” and I started to convince myself that this could be Berlin. It wasn’t that hard, it was the same distance away, ended in “in,” it had an “e” in it, and in Spanish they say their V’s as B’s so I could buy it. At this point we were pretty rushed so we just decided to head to that train’s platform. The train was leaving at 4:40 and I got on the train at 4:39 to ask where it was going. This was where I experienced my first big communication failure. I asked if the train was going to Berlin and the Czech gentlemen sitting in the compartment motioned to the seats around them and said, “They are free.” After some frantic pointing and saying “Germany” and “Deutschland” they understood and said, “Nooooo, Eastern Europe. Slovakia.” I have never gotten off a train faster in my life. It turns out Berlin is Berlin and we were just at the wrong train station. We were supposed to go to the train station that wasn’t on the map. At this point I thought we were completely effed. We were sitting on some stairs with maps and timetables spread out trying to figure out a way to get to Berlin before midnight through all kinds of connections because otherwise we would have to use an extra day of travel on our Eurail passes, which we didn’t have. There was no way to do it and I thought we were stranded in Prague for the night without a place to stay while paying for a night in Berlin. When we went to the information office to try and see if there was a way to get to Berlin that we missed we found out that there was a direct train that wasn’t in the book that left at 6:29. So disaster averted and everything worked out as planned. Good thing I rubbed that plaque.

Besitos,

Jim

Poppin' & Interlaken

Note: This is the first post in a series of posts that will be coming in the next week or two related to my ten-day whirlwind backpacking adventure through central Europe. During those ten days I more than doubled the amount of countries I’d visited in my life, travelled about 3,276 miles, and spent an inordinate amount of Euros, francs, and crowns. It was a truly unforgettable experience and unlike anything I’d ever done before. I’ll let this video I made with a program suggested to me by Chris Cooley serve as an intro or preview of the posts to come, and try to make me and the trip look as cool as possible. And for the time being, try to ignore such questions as “Why is he pointing so much?” “Why is he wearing the same thing in every picture?” and “Does he seriously think I click all these links?” Enjoy.

If you had asked me before how I felt about Switzerland, I probably would have said, “Neutral.” However, after visiting it during the first leg of our trip I am now definitely biased. We flew into Geneva by way of Barcelona and headed to the information desk to see whether or not we needed to change our currency. The lady at the desk told us that we did not, gave us a map, told us the places we should see in Geneva, and gave us all passes that said we were there for the World Telecom conference and entitled us to free public transportation for the whole time we were in Geneva. Awesome, right? So what did we do? We jumped on the first train we saw and proceeded to miss the stop for Geneva, therefore rendering our free passes useless. However to be fair, the train was so nice and it was so much fun sitting on the red velvet couches that it would’ve taken me about an hour to figure out that the train had started moving. Whatever, no big deal, we heard Geneva was lame anyway so we just got off in Lausanne, hometown of the talented Swiss douche, wait for it…Swouche, Roger Federer. That meant that in two weeks time I had visited the hometowns of the top two tennis players in the world. Andy Murray, I’m coming for you. We spent the next four hours or so seeing basically everything the city had to offer. We paid homage to Rudy at their Notre Dame Cathedral, saw the first Olympic Museum (Lausanne in the headquarters of the IOC and considered the Olympic Capital), and enjoyed a magnificent panorama of Lake Geneva. After we exhausted all of options in Lausanne we hopped on the train to our main Swiss destination, Interlaken.

We arrived at our hostel just in time for happy hour at the bar in the basement of our hostel, the biggest bar in Interlaken. Now, everyone we had met up to this point in Interlaken had been American, and we figured we were in for more of the same as we headed down into the basement. We walked into the bar and were smacked in the eyeballs with the image of nothing but dudes, and of course they were all hoodie-wearing flat-brimmers. I spent the first hour or so in awe of the fact that, one, there are so many HWFBs in the world, and two, that so many of them and found their way to Switzerland. At this point I decided to open up my ears and I realized that no one in the bar was speaking English. They were all locals, just dressed like scrubby Americans. This made me warm up to the place a little, and girls eventually showed up, but it turned out that the “biggest bar in Interlaken” was really just the place to be for local high schoolers with flat brims and braces.

The next morning we woke up at 6:45 to head to the front desk to sign up for all types of fun activities. However, I can’t get through two days in Europe without rain so of course it was pouring rain. I was crushed. I planned on going skydiving over the Swiss Alps. Really, I was so excited. I was even more crushed when the woman at the front desk slapped us with a “When It’s Raining” flyer and told us to check back after breakfast to see if there were some things that weren’t cancelled. The “When It’s Raining” flyer included hardcore activities such as going to a spa, a chocolate show, and indoor pool, and renting a movie. Extreme.

We lucked out though because it turned out that they would still be taking a group out canyoning. Canyoning is basically when you get dropped off at the top of a mountain, repel down into a canyon, and then continue down the canyon by jumping off rocks into water, sliding down rocks into water, zip-lining over rocks into water, and gingerly walking down rocks into water. It was sooooo much fun. First we repelled down a 150-foot cliff that went straight down in the pouring rain. I have to admit, I was pretty nervous about leaning back over that ledge with nothing but a rope keeping me from plunging to my death. I know a lot of you are saying to yourselves right now, “But Jim, you’re a really tough guy. You can grow a pretty awesome beard except for those spots where your mustache connects to the rest of the beard. Surely you weren’t scared.” Well believe it, and if you don’t believe me, just check out how awkward I look in this picture.

From there we jumped and slid off rocks and just had a general hardcore, super-fun time. I eventually got comfortable enough to take a picture where I look kind of cool.

After we got out of the freezing cold, Swiss Alp water, we all took a quick nap and then went to the chocolate show from the flyer. I know I was complaining before, but I have to admit that the idea of a chocolate show sounds awesome. No I didn’t shower, this is Europe. The show was definitely worth it. We learned the Swisstem of making chocolate and then ate enough free chocolate to make me sick of chocolate for about four whole hours. After the chocolate show (ok I was a little disappointed, I hoped they would do tricks with the chocolate) we went to dinner at the greatest restaurant in the entire world. It is called Bebbi’s and is located on the main drag in Interlaken, amidst gorgeous view of the Alps. The food, whatever, who cares, its fondue, anybody can do that. What makes the place is Bebbi and the atmosphere. I knew we had made the right choice when Bebbi led the five of us plus the two NYU kids we picked up canyoning into a “party room” type table, sat us down, grabbed the row of giant cowbells hanging above the table, rang the hell out of them and started screaming “FREE SALAD!” at the top of his lungs. He would go on to do this about five more times, even after we had already eaten the aforementioned salad. Bebbi is quite the character. He is jacked (said it was because he ate “cheese fondie” everyday) and is obviously on something because he did not stop the entire time we were there. He waited on tables, deejayed, ran around the restaurant waving giant Japanese (half the restaurant was Japanese), Swiss, and American flags, blew on his giant horn, and yelled “free salad” to anyone that would listen.

After our great meal we decided against going back to the swiddle school dance (last one I promise) and just played card games with our new friends. Interlaken turned out to be a phenomenal start to our trip, despite the essy weather. When we went to the train station the next morning the weather had cleared up and we could see how truly beautiful the scenery was. There were snow-capped mountains surrounding gorgeous turquoise lakes. We barely even minded the 14 hour train ride to Prague because we had such spectacular views of all that and then later the tiny German towns.

Switzerland, I’m on your side.

And for those of you who didn't get the title of this post, you need to familiarize yourself with poppin' and lockin' dancing, Ozone, Turbo, and the movie Breakin'.

Besitos,

Jim

Mallorca, Your-orca, Our-orca

Alright look, we all know that Germans are weird. But being that I’ve never really traveled beyond our shining seas, I’ve never been properly exposed to the perpetual freakshow that is the German tourist. This past weekend in Mallorca I was thrown headfirst into this strange sea of short-shorts and sausage. Not knowing anything about the island, we booked a hostel close to the airport and five minutes from the beach. And since we were sneaking in two extra people, it was very cheap. How cheap? I slept on the floor and paid 14 euro for three nights. That cheap. We were all pumped about our hostel situation until we left to go out at 2:30 am. As we walked down the streets we realized that everyone was speaking German, all the signs were German, the food was German, and the women were German. Woof. Apparently the Germans have invaded Mallorca like it was Poland in 1939. Heyooo. Since we had only been on the island about three hours we didn’t really know where we were or where we wanted to be, so we just went to this German disco called Regine’s and decided to make the best of it. Regine’s actually worked out pretty well because they had a nice special going from 3-4 and we all ended up spending very little money, although it certainly did not feel like it the next morning. The one really strange thing about that night was that they had a lip-sync band. This wasn’t karaoke, this wasn’t “everybody get on the stage and lip-sync;” this was “let’s pay a group of people to pretend to sing, play guitar, bass, and drums while people dance to these CDs we bought.” Something about it just seemed so…German. By the way, Lola is watching AVP right now. That’s Alien vs. Predator. Anyway, don’t get me wrong: lip-syncing in front of a group of people is a lot of fun. The stellar Summer ’97 performance of “Men in Black” by Luke and I at Lakeview Pool is probably what immediately comes to most of your minds. But the weird thing was how serious they took their job. Well, the fact that it is their job is also pretty weird. At one point during the night, I made it pretty apparent that I knew the words to one song and was doing some pretty impressive fist pumping, so these German dudes thought it would be a good idea to put me on the stage. I can’t remember exactly what song it was but I’m willing to guess that it was “I Gotta Feeling,” because I’m pretty sure there's a Spanish law that says it has to be played at least one time for every other song that is played. Clearly I thought this was a great idea and proceeded to try and take my turn with the mic. Well, the “band” didn’t like it, so my proposal was rejected, and the “singer” gave me dirty looks the rest of the night. Despite all the German oddities, Thursday night was pretty awesome and we capped it off by skinny dipping in the Mediterranean and watching the sunrise from a lifeguard stand. Well, we couldn’t really see the sun because we were on the southwest side of the island, but we watched it slowly get light out. It was breathtaking.

I’m going to chalk Friday up as pretty much a waste because we still didn’t figure out how to get out of what a club promoter on the beach called “the German ghetto.” That is how spoiled I am right now; a beautiful day at the beach just isn’t enough for me. Luckily things picked up when we headed into civilization for what is starting to become a tradition in Spain: the perfect dinner. After the now traditional espresso we shot pool at a bar called “MacGowan’s.” Although it kind of dampened my sense of adventure knowing that I wasn’t the first of my clan to set foot on the island, I had fun there. I knew it was an establishment worthy of the McGowan name when they obliged my request for two road beers to bring along to our nighttime visit to the cathedral. The cathedral was beautifully lit and it was very cool just walking around while it wasn’t crowded.

What can you say about Saturday? Was it the best day ever? Period? I can’t be sure. What I am sure of is that it was the best day in Spain so far, and the two-plus hours I was in the kayak were well worth the price of admission into this gorgeous island with the slight German problem down south. We took a day trip to Porto Cristo and laid on a white beach with spectacular views and everybody spoke Spanish. Then seven of us decided to rent kayaks and snorkels to explore the cliffs and caves on the coastline. We paddled past Rafael Nadal’s house (he’s from Mallorca) and stopped at an inlet a little further up the coast where two naked couples were…swimming? We ditched the kayaks and snorkeled around a little, shaming them into getting out and putting their clothes on. There wasn’t that much to see (both snorkeling and on the old people) but it was fun to be diving in that beautiful blue-green water. After the snorkeling we climbed up on the cliffs and started debating on how deep it was and if we would suffer serious injuries if we jumped off them. Being the oldest, I did the honorable thing and decided to jump first. After all, I have to enter the work force in May don’t have as much to live for as those whippersnappers. I’m not going to lie, I was pretty nervous, but I remembered that the present is a gift, so I jumped anyway. It turned out to be really deep and everybody eventually graduated to jumping off while posing for stupid pictures. (See below). After we got back we had some food and drinks by the dive shop and marina before we had to catch the bus back to Germany. It was exactly what we were looking for in Mallorca.

Saturday night we wanted to rage so we headed back into the city in search of the disco. I followed my finger and we found one. It was fun, there were some interesting international exchanges, and we danced to some hits, most notably a Grease medley, for which I was apparently dressed perfectly. The night went well enough for me that the boys decided to push two of the beds together and let me sleep in the middle. It harkened me back to that wonderful week first year after Vic was banned and before Charley ruined everything. But really I probably slept better on the floor because one of the beds was about six inches higher than the other and I was sleeping on the crack.

We didn’t fly back until late Sunday so I just laid on the beach all day, sleeping, listening to music, and reading an excellent biography of Ben Franklin. Our favorite forefather got me thinking: in America we take pride in sharing our freedoms, classrooms, needles, purple mountains majesties, etc. with all types of people. The Spanish have welcomed me into their country and even allowed me weekend-use of their islands. As I looked around at all the giant German bellies spilling out of their tiny trunks, I realized I was more than happy to share it all with those crazy creatures. Besides, I’ve had enough good times for all of us.