Brno, etc.

Yesterday was our scheduled trip to Brno. We got up and to the station with plenty of time, and didn’t see our train time anywhere. “I wonder if it’s that one?” I said. Kyle went to talk to information, and it turns out that it was the one (we had misread the schedule we had gotten the day before) and it was leaving…now! We rushed to the platform just in time to see it leave. There was a man on the platform who was very sympathetic and showed us the next train time. It was only later that we realized that we never told him that we had been going to Brno. Don’t know how he knew (Cue Twilight Zone music).

            Since we had a few hours to kill, we got a vending machine breakfast (me: candy, he: chocolate-filled croissant in a bag) and decided to see the Slavin Monument up on the hill. Now, I had chosen the shoes that I had felt would be best for my rash, cuts, and blisters. Making that climb, my feet quickly informed me that I had chosen wrongly. I ended up making most of the climb up and down the hill barefoot. After making the decent, we rested in front of the Presidential Palace, where we saw some official personage enter (Kyle swore it was the president. George would later tell him that it wasn’t).

            We went back to the hostel; I took a nap and changed my shoes. We made the next train to Brno easily.

            Since we had gotten a late start, and we didn’t want to miss the next train, we did an “Amazing Race” tour of Brno. In a little more than an hour, we located a souvenir shop to get a map and saw: Petrov Cathedral with the Capuchin monastery next to it, Spielberg Castle on the hill, St. James Church, the vegetable market, Freedom Square (which was having a sand sculpting contest), St. Thomas in Moravian Square, and Konecneho Namesti ( or the Red Church). The weirdest site I personally saw was someone wandering around with a surf board (where did he think he was going to surf?). We also saw the Old Town Hall, which houses the famous “dragon” and wagon wheel.

            The story of the dragon is as such. Once, a dragon was spotted in town. He terrorized the townspeople until one resourceful individual decided to kill a deer and stuff it with lime and leave it as dragon bait. Not able to resist such a tasty snack, the dragon consumed the deer and promptly died. Rejoicing, the townspeople stuffed the dragon and hung it in the town hall as a warning to other dragons, where it hangs to this very day. Modern visitors often mistake it for a large crocodile, but don’t be fooled.

            Our 2^nd tale is that of the wagon wheel. Once, a young man who was renowned for his skill in woodworking was bet that he could not make a wagon wheel from tree to finished product in one day. Working tirelessly, the man wheeled the wagon wheel into town in the allotted time. He was accused of witchcraft on the spot, killed, and the wheel was hung in the town hall, I suppose as a warning to all to not do anything spectacular, or we will kill you and take your things.

            Unfortunately, we could not see these magical objects, as the Old Town Hall was under construction, though we did wander through their offices before giving up the vain attempt.

            We got on the train back to Bratislava, and even made our connection, which had been cutting it close because it hadn’t given us much time. On the last train back, we sit next to two very talkative fellows. At one point, after dismissing a few nudges as accidental on his part, I realize that the one next to me is trying to get my attention. He does this in a very subtle way: by blowing a long stream of hot air into my face. He then spent the rest of the train ride talking at me/about me, leaing over my shoulder, making comments, including about my journal, even though he spoke little to no English. Creeper guy was creepy.

            We made it back to Bratislava in good time, so we decided to go up to the Hrad, or castle, to see it and a great view of the city. We do so, take a few pics, and make our gradual way down. I make the decent backwards, as it is easier on my knees. Kyle pretends not to know me (which he also does when I chase pigeons shouting “Mwah!” I don’t know why).

            After the Castle, we went to Slovak Pub and tried to order food. As this was apparently not possible, we stay for awhile, before getting sandwiches to eat in the hostel dining room.

            Today, we got up, packed, checked out, went and saw the Blue Church, and then boarded a train for Spis where Jana’s mother will supposedly pick us up and we’ll eventually meet Neil. Neil had some trouble with the airline as well. He missed his connecting flight from Munich to Prague, as his 1^st flight was delayed for 4 hours. And they lost his bag, for which he is still waiting. Oh, airline, you scamp you.

Budapest

So let’s talk travel: the good, the bad, and the ugly.

            I’ll start right off with the ugly. Turns out walking for 5-10 miles a day, especially in heat reaching the mid-90s, can take a physical toll. My price includes sunburn, prickly heat, blisters, and sundry scrapes and bruises, aches and pains.

            Speaking of ugly…

            We had a very early train to Budapest yesterday. For the first leg of the journey, we shared a cabin with a very quiet girl, and we were all dozing when we pulled into a station and gained two more cabin-mates. Later, I would talk about those two with Kyle. It went something like this:

Ann : This may sound really mean, but do you remember those people from the train today?
Kyle: Oh, you mean Pigface Man?
Ann: I was thinking more like Sloth from ‘The Goonies’, but yeah.
Kyle: Yeah, he hit every branch of the ugly tree on the way down. And then he landed on his face. He and his girlfriend were annoying.

            And while looks are one thing, I really mention him because he and his girlfriend literally did not stop talking (and loudly) the entire time, in total disregard of the three people who were sleeping in the car.

            So, we get to Budapest (and Budapest has an impressive train station. “That was…unexpected,” said Kyle later), which would start the ‘good’ section of this little story. Kyle changed his money (20 Euro got him 5600 Florins. When we got back to Bratislava he kept pulling it out saying, “5000 big ones!”).  Firstly, we headed to Heroes Square, passing the place where their statue of Stalin once stood, before they blew it up. After seeing Heroes Square and the two surrounding museums, we headed down Andrassy Ut (kind of a ritzy street), seeing the opera house, and exploring a little bit of central Pest (Budepest has 2 parts, Buda and Pest, which used to be separated by the Danube river). We reached St. Stephen’s, always amazingly beautiful, where I saw the mummified hand of St. Stephen. Then, we headed to the river to see parliament, which is the 2^nd largest in the world (after London), and arguably the more impressive-looking of the two. Crossing the Danube on the Chain Bridge, we went up to Castle Hill for a view of parliament across the river. Additionally, we saw Matthias Church and refilled our water bottles (Castle Hill is quite a climb).

            We crossed back over the Danube, and saw Gellert Hill by Elisabeth Bridge, with Gellert Statue, and Liberty Statue overlooking the city. We proceeded to our last few landmarks, which I had gotten a map from  a tour guide to find, as they weren’t on our original map. Using this, we saw St. Anna’s by the Danube, and then walked to the Hungarian National Museum and the Dohany Synagogue, the biggest synagogue in Europe with its silver weeping willow inscribed with the names of Holocaust victims.

            Budapest, as always, is incredible to see. While Vienna is very “light”, Budapest is a little darker, more diverse, and more eastern. I kept coming to the phrase, “it sits lower on its haunches.” Vienna is Mozart; Budapest is Bartok.

            Now we arrive at the ‘bad’ part or our tale. You see, a combination of a skipped meal, an early train, physical tiredness, and the heat had rendered Kyle into a silent partner. In 8 hours, I got about 30 words, not including grunts and hand gestures. Also feeling the heat, and with no one to talk to, I spent most of the day trailing a dozen or so steps behind, gradually wilting, despite drinking more and more water, as we walked miles of hilly terrain in the 93 degree heat. I kept suggesting places to stop and eat (including a Subway and convenience stores), but he rejected them all. When we finally got to the train station, we got ice cream from a vendor and stood to watch the arrivals board. It was at this point that a cold/nauseous feeling overcame me and the world became black around the edges. The next thing I know, I’m on the floor, and a random Hungarian woman is tutting over me. Kyle is still watching the arrivals. After assuring the nice lady that I was ok and drinking some water, I informed Kyle that I had passed out. He responded, “Oh. I thought you were sleeping on the floor. You should eat something.” [Edited to add: He claims that he said ‘sitting on the floor’, not sleeping. It doesn’t really matter.] Seeing as how I had suggested a dozen places to eat along the way, this is the comment that got us sitting in separate compartments on the train back to Bratislava.

            We made up during our walk to the hostel. Kyle said I have to be more obvious about my feelings. This is the comment that got Kyle asked if he was on the autism spectrum.

            We bought the ingredients for spaghetti, which we went back to the hostel and cooked. I actually really like cooking there, as it gets me doing something in the realm of normalcy (just maybe not that day when I had ended up on the train station floor). I can talk to with a couple of the other people, especially a big English ginger (who can really cook well), and a skinny Irishman who likes steak and potatoes.

            We went upstairs, I nursed my wounds, we went to bed. A few hours later, we awoke to a thunderous storm, pouring rain, and people shouting and dancing in the street, as the heat was finally breaking a little bit. Kyle and I scrambled to close the windows, as the sills were our storage space.

P.S. I lost my camera case somewhere in Budapest. Seems I’m always destined to lose something there…the last time, it was blood, so I'm okay with the camera case situation.

Vienna

            “There is no way that Elton John is coming to Bratislava. It’s got to be an interpreter or something,” said Kyle. “Oh, I see,” I replied. “So that 2 finger salute isn’t really peace signs; he’s making air quotes around himself. Like “Elton John” is “coming” to Slovakia.”

            This was our deep conversation heading to the hostel the night prior to our trip to Vienna. The morning we left, Kyle said, “I had a dream that Elton John died, and I turned to you and said, ‘I was right! He’s not coming to Bratislava!’”

            So started our day. It had already started getting hot, and it was in the mid-90s throughout most of the day. Fortunately, in Slovakia, certain pieces of clothing are optional, especially when the heat index rises. Like pants. My favorite outfit of the day was a guy wearing boxer shorts and a puffy “MartyMcFly” vest on the train.

            We got off in Vienna, and started our day of hot, sticky sight-seeing.

            I once again asked Kyle for his impressions, and eventually got the word “ornate” out of him, which I would agree is accurate. Everywhere you turn in Vienna, there’s another beautiful building. One has to refrain oneself from taking too many pictures. The city does not necessarily feel very modern, and it doesn’t share many other cities’ love-affairs with what Kyle calls “hunks” of modern art (with the notable exception of one that makes strange sounds in front of a war memorial). Instead, it has a very clean, light, and airy feel to it, with its wider streets and many sandstone and whitewashed buildings. Another thing that Kyle noticed was that the further east we’ve gone, the less culturally diverse the cities have become.

            The sites we explored started with Belvedere Palace and grounds, which was breathtaking. Kyle’s take: “What kind of backyard is this? All you can do is stand in an inch of water in a reflecting pool and look at your weird grass and puking horse fountains.”

            We continued by looking at the Vienna museum, as well as the Haus der Musik and opera house, before walking down Karntnerstrasse to see St. Stephan’s Cathedral (always amazing), the plague memorial, and St. Peter’s (which was beautiful). Here is what it’s like touring with Kyle: “See, you don’t get to see this on a George tour. Of course, you might also see a bunch of side streets, and stuff you don’t really want to see, …is that a mullet on that skateboard?”

            By this time, we were hungry, so we decided to go to lunch at the Goulasch Museum, Kyle had mushroom goulash, and I had…horse goulash with a drippy fired egg and dumpling. I was so hungry; I could have eaten a horse. So I did. And it was delicious. (One odd thing about lunch was the Asian woman a couple of tables over who took the tablecloth and wrapped it around herself. We don’t know why. Was she chilly in the 90 degree heat? Did she forget to wear a shirt? Did she think it was a giant napkin? “Guess that’s what you do in a fancy restaurant,” said Kyle.)

            After lunch, we went to see the Hofsburg Palace and the Spanish Riding School (and see the ‘we will beat the living daylights out of anyone who messes with us’ statue). We then decide to explore the Imperial Crypts. Kyle goes up to the ticket booth, says, “Two adults, please.” The middle-aged man gets up, climbs down, and leaves the ticket booth. Kyle gives me a look like, “What did I do?” He then comes around and gives Kyle a handshake and me a hug and says, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. It is nice to meet you.” Then he returned to his booth and sells us the tickets. So…that was different. I still have no idea why I got a hug from the Crypt Keeper.

            Call me morbid, but the crypts really were fascinating, seeing all of those ornately decorated coffins, the newest of which was interred in 2011, with most of them dating back 100s of years (we even saw the famous Sisi’s).

            We then explored the Museum Quartier for awhile, including the Natural History Museum and the Leopold Museum. We saw Vienna’s rathaus (or town hall) and parliament building, as well as the theater.

            Finally, we made our long, loonngg walk back to see Schoenbrun. This completely pooped me out, and if it wasn’t for the appearance of miraculous free Fanta, and a tiny strawberry ice cream cone I purchased with Kyle, I probably wouldn’t have made it.

            We trekked to the metro, which took us to the train station. When we got back to Bratislava, we purchased a box of ice cream from the corner store, grabbed two spoons, and ate the whole thing, right out of the packaging. Good dinner.

Neil's Flight

I started my series of flights at the Canton Akron airport. The first problem started right at the start when receiving my boarding passes. I wasn't able to get all three at the same time because my itinerary wasn't "in sync". I would have to get my next boarding pass at the next stop in Chicago, but my flight was only twenty minutes delayed which was a welcome change from the 3 hours that one passenger with Internet access thought it would be based on the Chicago departures.

I arrived in Chicago by 8pm and found the gate where my plane was scheduled to leave from pretty easily but when I arrived the gate was packed with people. It turns out that the flight scheduled to leave for Frankfurt at 6pm hadn't left yet because of maintenance issues and they were in our planes spot.

We waited and waited and at 10:30pm they informed us that the plane for Frankfurt would be boarding soon and that the reason we hadn't moved or gone to another gate was that the plane was the longest commercial plane and that it only fit at two gates at that airport and the other one was closed for repairs. So the plane for Frankfurt boarded and twenty minutes later its tired passengers disembarked. It was then that they decided to move the plane and make one of the other gates fit the plane. We all moved to the new gate and waited 45 minutes for them to get the new gate to fit on our plane. It was during this time that I had a nice conversation with a man who was visiting his family in Nuremberg. He had been born in the Sudentanland in 1936 and moved to the United States at an early age.

The gate finally attached and we took off four hours late. This was worrisome considering I only had a three hour layover in Munich. The flight went without issue and I even had a nice conversation with a polish woman was was going to visit her mother before she died. She talked a lot about trying to get her children to learn polish when they were young and now that some ate older they wish they had stuck with it.

When I landed in Munich an hour late for my flight I did what I was instructed to do and waited in the two hour line at the Luftansa desk for my next instructions. While waiting in line I was able to reach George and Jana to let them know I wasn't on the plane. "We know" they said, "it hasn't left yet." they told me the gate it was at and I ran there as fast as I could... And missed it, by two minutes. I went back and waited in the line again starting over from the back. Eventually I was able to talk to someone at the desk and they were able to schedule me on the next flight to Prague at 8pm.

I arrived in Prague at 9:30 but without my luggage. George was waiting for me at the gate and we went to a restaurant near his place and ate pretty decent hamburgers for the Czech Republic.

Bratislava

The ride from Berlin to Bratislava is long. While the scenery is actually quite pretty, there are only so many hours one can look out the window. And our cabin essentially became a big hot box. The Japanese family got off somewhere around Prague, and were replaced by some Slovaks, including an overweight woman and her son and their Magical Bottomless Bag of McDonalds. Every 15 minutes or so, she would reach in, and voila! Another burger would appear from some never-ending source. Her son wiggled around in clothes about 2 sizes too small, simultaneously showing off belly and underwear. Somehow, all of his weird fingerings rendered our once clear glass door completely opaque by the time the train pulled into the station.

            We walked to our hostel, Hostel Blues, and were greeted by our perky, personable receptionist with curly red hair. We were shown the community lounge and kitchen, and given our keys to our room in the Barcelona suite. Our room is pretty, second only to the boat, with a double bed (actually, two mattresses on a double bed frame)…and that’s about it. We are using the window sill for storage space. One big advantage is that we have our own adjacent (small) bathroom. Oh, and Hostel Blues has “firm support” mattresses and a closet elevator! Ah, memories…

            We settled in, and then went out to see some of Bratislava. I’ve been here before, but Kyle hasn’t, so I asked for his opinion. “Older, and, I dunno. More European.” He had already remarked upon leaving the train station that “this place has a totally.” Older, yes, both as in more old-world charm, with winding streets and timeworn buildings (especially in the historical district, natch), and as in “this would have been really cool 30 years ago or if they had maintained it.” And, as far as ‘more European’, yes, we’ll find less Western influence, and less English-speakers, than the other places we’ve been.

            In our first outing into the city, we saw St. Martin’s, Old Town Hall, Primatial’s Palace, Roland fountain, the New Bridge (AKA UFO Bridge), the Jewish memorial (where the Jewish synagogue once stood), St. Clare’s, St. Michael’s Gate, and the Franciscan Church and Monastery. We also saw what George calls “the only tree in Bratislava”, a very lonely looking tree surrounded by chains near the Old Town Hall.

            Walking back, we decide to take advantage of the kitchen at our disposal and cook dinner. We go grocery shopping (another new experience. Kyle: Everything’s fresh. It’s weird), and we end up making cheesy noodles with sachar torte for dessert, which we eat in the dining area. And I got a big jug of orange juice because it’s been so hot today.

            So, I’m chugging orange juice and finishing this. Kyle’s in some kind of heat coma.

            Tomorrow: Vienna!

Berlin

There are certain stereotypes about German people that are turning out to be based at least partly on fact. A lot of Germans really do wear socks with sandals. They seem to love dogs. They favor ugly hairstyles (if not the mullet, than some kind of Flock of Seagulls concoction). They drink more the average population. In fact, glugging beer or wine on public transport is actually quite common. Yesterday, we saw a man with a beer stuffed in every pocket, plus the ones he was carrying. He was gearing up for the big Euro Cup game that the entire city was in a frenzy for. We could see the city descend into madness/inebriation as the day wore on. We spent the game ensconced in our room at the hippie commune as Germany won and people “blew stuff up real good” outside.

            Where as I now, however? I’m on a train to Bratislava, a long train that will allow me to catch up. Not that it was easy getting on this thing. We had an early journey (6:45), and we got here with plenty of time to spare. Kyle had tried to purchase something to eat for breakfast the previous night from a vending machine, for the main thing they seemed to sell were pregnancy tests, and those aren’t very breakfast-y. So we got breakfast from the station (he: chocolate muffin, I: fruit cup).

            The train was delayed for 15 minutes. Okay. Whatever. Then the train was delayed for 30 minutes. Then 45. We began having PTSD flashbacks to our hassles at the airports. We bought chocolate donuts to soothe ourselves. Our conversation resulted in observations such as, “Technical Damage to the Train sounds like a band name. Bur what kind of band?” “Maybe this is some sort of German social experiment and that’s what all the cameras are really for. They’re like, ‘Ah, after the third delay, they go get donuts.’”

            The train finally arrived and we found our reserved (yes, reserved seats in a cabin shared by a Japanese family. The little girl had a Spiderman doll and is eating a sandwich as big as her face. She keeps staring at Kyle.

            Guess that’s my cue to start writing about Berlin.

            We arrived 1 ½ days ago, and immediately bought our Bratislava tickets and began to figure out their underground system. Now, here is a stereotype about Germans that Berlin obfuscated: the train system is not the model of organized efficiency for which Germany has a reputation. The metro is slow, and not many trains run, which means long waits and crowded cars. Many lines run into different stations, and they seem to switch willy nilly. To make simple connections, you have to travel to distant platforms, up and down many stairs or across the street, as escalators are few and far between. Working escalators are even rarer. Unless this is some secret program for exercise and teaching patience, Berlin’s metro is pretty poorly managed. This may be an outsider’s perspective, but the locals seemed often frustrated as well.

            So, we began to slowly navigate our way through the metro system. Kyle bought gummi bears and peanut-flavored cheetos (Ann: Kyle, these taste like chemicals. Kyle: Mmm…chemicals) to fortify  himself.

            Using a mixture of subway and tram, we made it to the Sandino, the commune at which we’ll be staying. We were greeted by lanky Hippie Mike and he directs us to the “door.” (Oh, you mean this large piece of graffitied corrugated metal? Of course that’s a door.) He gave us a quick tour: the outdoor entertaining area/shed, the gardens, the chickens, the shared kitchen and bathroom (with large tub with a shower attachment. Hey, it’s better than the holocaust showers in Brussels). Our room has two single beds, a table, a small balcony, a large paisley rug, and spaceman posters decorating the walls. It’s quite acceptable, and I’m glad that I’m not one of the people in a tent in the backyard.

            Saying goodbye to Hippie Mike and the injured raven he’s nursing back to health, we set out to get a little sight-seeing in.

            First impressions of Berlin are that it’s cleaner and less, well, angry than Hamburg. People still tend to go for the practical rather than the fashionable. Berlin, as the capital, bustles, but doesn’t seem to be as frantic as, say, London or Hamburg can be.

            Our first evening there, we take it light and easy. We go and see Schloss Charlottonburg (a large, cream-colored palace), and walk the Kurfurstendam, a main road with a lot of luxury stores (think Gucci, Prada, etc.) that ends in a fountain in an area with more of a street fair feel. Scientologists try to get Kyle to have his thetans read, which I found hilarious.

            We looked around for the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, another bombed church that was supposed to be right there. We finally found a sign by its stained glass block supplemental building that the tower was undergoing extensive reconstruction as it had become unstable (being bombed and all). The glass structure that looked like an office building was actually scaffolding. So, oh well.

            We then started to discuss dinner. Kyle: Are we gonna get pig on a spit? Ann: Probably not. Kyle: Are we gonna get spit on a pig? Ann: Yes. That is where they bring out a pig and you get to spit on it. It’s very cheap.

            Instead, we end up getting street food again. Kyle eats another brat, and I get currywurst (which is sold everywhere here). I vow that tomorrow will not be street food.

            I eat my currywurst, which is a brat chopped up with a red sauce and bread to sop everything up. It is advertised as spicy, but isn’t at all. We watch a guy doing some lame skateboard tricks, then decide to go home as it had been raining off and on.

            The next day, having some of the best weather so far on this trip, we devoted ourselves to some serious whirlwind sight-seeing. We saw: Rotes Rathaus (the “red town hall”), Altes Stadthaus (instrumental in the time that Berlin was split), Berliner Dom (magnificent), Checkpoint Charlie (where I got my picture with bits of the Berlin Wall), the Nikolai Quarter (very charming little area surrounding a church), the Fernseturn (Berlin’s giant “T.V. antenna”), and the French and German Cathedrals. Kyle also saw what he called “the world’s largest punch bowl (actually, a big fountain).

            At this point, I wander off-track a little to see some impressive-looking museums. Outside of the history museum, there is an art fair that Kyle and I wander through. There. Some guys are running a “which box is the ball under?” operation, with some serious cash being gambled (think 50 euros a bet). Soon after, we have to get out of the way of one of the guys running down the length of the fair. “That guy’s running like the cops are after him,” thought Kyle. Sure enough, here come the police pulling up, quickly ending that little profitable operation.         

            We also saw Potsdamer Platz with its distinctive system of pink pipes, and walked down Unter den Linden, another main road with a lot of history (as well as shopping).

            Next on the list to see was the Reichstag (the German parliament) and the Jewish Memorial. This was a space filled with 2700 coffin-sized concrete blocks arranged on undulating ground. It was very, sa Kyle put it, “vast”, and more impressive than pictures can convey. And much better than the rejected ideas of a pool of blood, a giant oven, and a holocaust themed Ferris wheel. After this, we saw the Brandenburg Gate, which was surrounded by a party-like atmosphere for the day, with a giant screen for the soccer match that night. It had people dressed in costume (including “:Checkpoint Charlie” and Darth Vader) with which you could take a picture, as well as many food vendors (95% of which were brats).

            We walked the length between the Brandenburg Gate and the Victory Column (a long way, let me assure you), and decided to reward ourselves with some food. We found a restaurant that served traditional German fare. I got pig knuckle with potatoes and sauerkraut; Kyle got roast beef “like Mama make it”, which apparently means with pickles. Then I devoured a gigantic piece of pork, which seemed to glisten with a holy light to my famished mind. (Ann: I feel like I ate that like the Tasmanian Devil. Kyle: You did.)

            Afterward, we had one more place to see-Museum Island, which Kyle had marked in a place outside of the main part of Berlin. We took several metros out there and looked around, not finding anything resembling a museum. Taking out my handy guidebook, we discovered that Museum Island was that “sidetrack” I had engaged in earlier, and this park was…a park. “So…look at this beautiful park I brought you to!” said Kyle.

             We sat and watched some German communal boat singing on the waterway, before heading back to the metro to head for the hippie commune before the city descended completely into soccer madness.