I've learned a lot in three weeks on the road. So much that I think I need to write it down. So I'm starting a new blog called "Pack Left: Things I've learned to help you pack RIGHT!" This blog is just going to be a huge list of the things that I think will help make people (myself included) better travelers and vacationers. I'm going to post every rule as a different post, so there will be twenty-odd posts popping up here soon. Take a look and let me know what you think!
Yes, he is a legend. Now:
I couldn't get off the platform at Castellon.
That kind of ruined the picturesqe hug I had planned on when I seen Isaias Alonso for the first time in half a decade. I walked up the stairs to the exit, seen Alonso and his girlfriend approaching and walked straight into the glass gate! Apparently I was supposed to have a train pass to scan to get out, but since I was traveling via EuRail, I had to actually get checked out. So, the railway guy let me out and THEN I got my epic hug! I can't express how great it was to see Alonso's smile! We took a few photos and walked back to his place.
Now, I know he's going to read this, so I want to be clear, I'm not just talking him up!
The hospitality I had was wonderful, I couldn't have asked for more and I see Mr. Alonso as a friend now, more than a former teacher. He arranged for my laundry, internet access and everything else I needed, and asked what I wanted for dinner. I had yet to experience a traditional Spanish meal and that sounded good for the night. A delicious Spanish meal is exactly what he made for me; it was the best thing I've eaten this entire trip! (Though I may be a be just a little biased, as I haven't eaten as much as normal for the past few weeks. Either way, it was incredibly good!) He even opened up a special bottle of wine for me – totally uncalled for – and a friend of his joined us shortly after dinner. We talked and caught up all night before going to bed late in the night. It was one of the best nights I've had the entire trip. Probably one of the best nights I will have. (Thanks, Isaias!)
I slept very well that night, until nine the next morning. Having a good bed does that. I arose for yet another giant meal put together by Alonso. All sorts of breakfast foods and some Spanish sausage for the calories I'd burn while walking around Barcelona (though, I didn't end up in Barcelona til late that night). I packed my things and we walked down to the train station to try and catch the 11:45 train to Barcelona. The train was full until six, however, but Mr. Alonso and his girlfriend were happy to spend the rest of the day guiding me around downtown Castellon. We were still talking and catching up the entire time (lots can happen in five years!), it made me realize how important it is to keep up with old friends, as well as how important it is to visit them. (On a side note, I'll be starting another blog soon to include these things I've learned about travel. I'll keep you posted.)
Around two, after our tour of the city, we had worked up an appetite. I was then treated to the best Chinese food I had ever eaten around the corner from Alonso's apartment. It was an upscale place that served meals in tapas stye: huge plates to be shared amongst the table. Just two plates was more than I could eat! We finished up and headed back for a nap before I left.
As we walked toward the station nearing six and as with all the rest of the cities and places I have visited, I was not yet ready to leave. Especially so since I had a real friend this time (well, old friend – I've made plenty of real friends along the way) who was so welcoming. It's one of the best feelings I've ever had to see somebody I know on the road, made even better for half a decade of his absence.
Thank you for a fantastic day, Señor Alonso! Whatever wild city I land in years from now, I hope you come visit me so I can return the favor!
I stepped off the train into Valencia Nord at half past noon on the 22nd. The first thing I noticed was the ceiling of the station. People had told me to look up, so of course, I did. The ceiling was beautiful. I didn't look for long, though, nor did I take any photos. I had very little time in Valencia, so I took straight off to the hostel. The first thing I noted out the door was the giant bullring to the right, which I would be going to later that evening. I had missed the one in Madrid; I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to see a bullfight in Spain.
As I walked into the main square, I had an intense feeling of deja vu. It felt like Hawaii! There were tall, beautiful buildings standing upon spotless streets, fountains of all sizes and tropical greenery everywhere. It was a second Waikiki. I continued across the square, in awe of the grandeur of the place and found my hostel, tucked in a back alley. The hostel had good ratings, but I didn't feel initially comfortable walking home down a lonely back alley at night. Southern Spain was far from the safest place to be. Fortunately, the staff in the hostel were very helpful and friendly, even going so far as to write me out a route of the best things to see in Valencia on a day trip.
This time, I had no guided tour. Back to exploring! I went directly to the market (which was the primary interest point of the staff girl) and was shocked. This was nothing like the “market” in Madrid. Housed in a century old building, there were vendors selling fresh fruits, meats and more EVERYWHERE! Best of all, it was dirt cheap! I loaded up on some fruit for a couple euros and had my food for the afternoon. I wandered around the city all after afternoon, seeing everything there was to see (which included a photo request from two “hobos” and tons of gorgeous graffiti). Valencia, though it is full of people, is only half an hour's walk across the city center. Outside of that it is very drab.
I arrived back at the hostel at five to cool off before my bullfight and left to get tapas before the show at 6:30. Once again, the hostess didn't speak English, so I resorted to pointing at signs to get what I wanted.
The bullfight was at seven. I approached the stadium to see a crowd of animal rights protesters engulfed by the people flowing into the stadium. I made my way past them and settled in my seat. The bullfight started with all kinds of music and cheering as the six matadors pranced into the ring. This was going to be awesome!
Little did I know what I had paid to see.
There were six fights, all of which were very similar. It began with a bull being released into the ring amongst the six matadors. Two padded horses would come into the ring, provoke the bulls to charge, and the riders would stab the bulls in the back. The performing fighter would then proceed to stab the bull with six colorful harpoons, followed by the dance. At the end of the fight, the matador would plunge a sword into the back of the bull, killing it. The crowd would cheer like wild and the matador would accept hats, flowers and gloves as he walked around the ring.
Gruesome, tormenting and definitely not something I'd go see often, if ever again. Two hours of bullfighting was enough of a Spanish experience for me, so I returned to my hostel to spend the evening talking with a couple of guys from (none other than!) the Netherlands.
I slept in late the next morning and arose to wander over to the art and science complex Valencia is so famous for. It was quite a walk along the park, but well worth it. The park in Valencia is a former river, dried up and converted. It runs through the north part of the city and the largest park I have ever seen! I finally arrived to a breathtaking view of the arts and sciences complex and wandered around for an hour or so. The prices were a bit high for me, so seeing the amazing architecture would suffice.
I continued on to the beach and hung out for a while (seeing more kinds of boobs than I ever wanted to) and boarded the train to Castellon at six.
My third day in the Spanish capital was decidedly chill.
I had yet to actually see the city, so I rolled out of bed for the free tour at 11:15. This one was not a New Europe Free tour and it was free for a reason. Our tour guide wasn't all that great, but following her around for an a few hours did give me an opportunity to see all the sights of the city. I even got some free cookies from some nuns!
The tour walked us back to hostel by about two and I spent a good portion of the afternoon chatting with several of the people Id met the night before. I had spent so much time partying in Madrid that spending time in a place that felt like home with friends was very enjoyable. After a while on the road alone, you need to recoup for a day.
At five, Frenchie and I decided we wanted to take a trip to the public pool. We rounded up Kinero and the remaining two of the three Germans and headed out. It was a relaxing way to spend the afternoon and there was never a dull moment with the company I had. When we left, Kinero discovered his money had been stolen (AGAIN! This poor guy had the worst luck in Madrid.) from his bag. We searched around a bit, with no luck, and headed home.
There was to be no going out for the night. I was leaving for Valencia at 8:45 the following morning and the Germans were heading for Barcelona just as early. We packed our things up and left around ten for some food and a couple of one euro beers. But the bar was full, so we settled for kebaps. It was the first time I had ever had a kebap. I can't figure out why they don't have them back home. They're cheap and very good. Kind of like a pita, but better. We spent the walk back telling people on the street we were homosexual Muslims when they tried to get us into the clubs and bars (which was hilarious), said our goodbyes, and hit the sack.
I'm going to miss Madrid.
My second day in Madrid wasn't even spent in Madrid. Myself and eight other guys had decided the previous night to take trip to Toledo, the former Spanish capital.
Our group was an mix of culture: four Americans (one of which was from Mexico), three Germans, a guy from Portugal and Frenchie. Myself, Kinero, Forrest and George made up the American portion. I've already mentioned Kinero, Forrest was a traveler from Texas who had spent a year in Brazil and George was a half Mexican flight attendant who had taken a spur of the moment trip to Madrid because it only cost him $36. The three Germans were just as fun. Very smart guys who were just traveling for the party. The Portuguese man didn't speak much and then, there was Frenchie. I cannot begin to aptly describe this guy in my blog, my keyboard would wear out before I finished.
After our previous night, we managed to grab a bus at noon and arrived in Toledo at one. What a city! Honestly, there isn't much in Toledo. Actually, beyond the age and the famous cathedral, there's nothing. Fortunately, these two things and my new found friends made the day the great. We had no map of the city, so most of the day was spent wandering aimlessly trying to find the attractions we were searching for. The first thing we found was the library tower.
We asked a local tour guide for directions, we discovered that the public library tower, which provides a beautiful view of the city, was not open to tourists. So we split ourselves into three groups and paraded into the library as “students” looking for “books.” And it worked. We took the elevator to the cafe at the top of the tower to find a gorgeous view of the old city and the surrounding Spanish hillside.
The international circus paraded down the tower and over to the Catholic cathedral, the main attraction of Toledo. Entry was seven euros, so Forrest and I were the only two who decided to go in. I'm so glad I did. This church was by far the most beautiful I had ever seen. The art and detail surpassed that of Notre Dame and Sacre Cour combined and there was still more. Huge stone sculptures. Entire murals carved from wood. Gold gilded decor. Paintings eight stories tall. It was worth every cent.
We ended our trip to Toledo with trip up another church tower and a cheap dinner and headed home.
When we got back to the hostel at seven, I needed to do laundry. I sent the rest of the group out without me. I told them I'd catch up when my laundry was done. However, I couldn't locate them in the bar they had went to, so I went back to the hostel. Thankfully, they came back to get me! We drank around the hostel bar for a while and decided to go out with the Cat's pub crawl at one. Two bars and one club kept us up until 5 that morning, but as long as Madrid was going this good, I didn't need sleep!
My arrival in Madrid was not too bad. The train pulled into Chamartin Station just before two in the afternoon on the 19th and I was still exhausted from the previous night – I don't think I'm ever going to get used to sleeping on night trains. I walked into the station with a friend I had met on the train, Eric, from Chicago, who was studying Spanish in Spain for a month. Having a fluent speaker along side as well as my own knowledge of the language made navigating the terminal much easier than in France. Unfortunately, he was not staying at the same hostel as I, and was headed back to the states the following morning. We had a late lunch and parted ways.
My next task was to book two trains to Valencia and Barcelona. Once again, the waiting lines were a nightmare. Nearly an hour and a half, just to book a ticket! On top of that, when my number was finally called, the man at the desk didn't speak English. Not that he should, I mean, I'M the one in Spain. But a bilingualism at a major train station is reasonable, isn't it? Thankfully, booking a train ticket doesn't require communicating much more information than days, locations and general times, so it wasn't too much of an issue. I walked out of the station with my two tickets and took the metro to my hostel. Thanks to my practice in Paris, I'm never going to have a problem with metro systems again! Even if I can't speak the language!
Cat's hostel, the cheapest one in the city, was awesome. In fact, I think I'm going to have a hard time finding a better place to stay than I have in Madrid. I walked up to see scaffolding all over the front of the building, however, the inside was another story. The building used to be a small, 18th century palace and was even on the national monument registry! It was beautiful!
Still exhausted, I sat down in the common room next to a guy on the couch who looked like he had just arrived as well. Turns out he hadn't, he'd just returned from the hospital. His name was Kinero and he had been mugged at four in the morning the night before. This came as a bit of a shock to me, because on the train to Irun (halfway between Paris and Madrid) I had met a couple who had their bikes stolen in Barcelona! I was beginning to feel unsafe in Spain. We sat around for a while and chatted with some other people that were staying in the hostel and eventually went to get food.
A small group of people were going to the “market” for dinner and cheap sounded good. It wasn't quite what I was expecting. I was strolling through the streets looking for some giant farmer's market. Instead, our group came upon a glass walled building. THIS was the market. THIS was MY kind of market! Inside were all kinds of vendors selling all variety of bits to eat for a euro or two. I had a five course meal for five euros that might have been the best thing(s) I've eaten.
We returned to the hostel to decide plans for the night. There were a couple of girls who had went with us to dinner who were leaving Spain tomorrow, so a night out was in order. Bars seemed a bit expensive, so we got creative. Elliot – a very...interesting...Parisian known from now on as Frenchie – came up with the wonderful idea of playing guitar and drinking in Sol Square! The idea couldn't have turned out better, I had a wonderful night scaring away the citizens with our awful music! We ended the night by going to a club around two, doing a round of karaoke and heading home. It doesn't get much better than that!
I'm going to keep this one short because I'm kind of blogged out on Paris. You can check out the photos!
I did three things on my last day in Paris:
1. Andrea the Canadian and I went up to the top of Notre Dame
2. We parted and I went to visit the Latin Quarter
3. After the Latin Quarter I went back up to Montmarre
I ended up back at the hostel before dinner to pick up my things and they were kind enough to let me stay for dinner since my train didn't go out until eleven. It was one of those "hang out with the hostel" nights that I'm starting to enjoy. There are so many cool people to meet!
Anywho, I got on the train to Spain at 11 and was off to Madrid!
Day four of Paris was much more relaxed than the previous few.
In fact, the only thing I had planned was to get up and go visit Jim Morrison's grave, but it turned into another day of wandering the city with Nadine, the 30 year old from Australia. After spending the previous three days primarily alone in the City of Light, an entire day with another person to talk to was a welcome event.
We arrived at the cemetery early that morning, expecting to go in and out very quickly. That didn't happen. It was the biggest cemetery I've ever seen. Well, not quite the biggest, but certainly the hardest to navigate. French cemeteries (famous ones, anyway) aren't quite like the ones back home. The first thing you notice is all the buildings. Rather than individual graves, there are family plots. There are the occasional single stones, which is what we went to see.
First on the list was Morrison's grave. You can see in the photos that it wasn't much, very minimal...I was unimpressed. Oscar Wilde's headstone was another story. His was more of a headBOULDER. Covered in lipstick kisses. I'm not really sure why, but it was pretty cool.
After we left the cemetery, Nadine and I revisited many of the things I had seen the previous few days, which I've already talked about. That's really about it for the day. We were out all day and she left at eight for London!
My second real day in Paris began with the Louvre. The couple from St. Louis had told me to use the metro entrance, which I did, and I was able to walk right in at ten. I had arranged to do a walking tour at one, so I only had a few hours to check out the museum. Once again, not nearly enough. I opted to see the most famous pieces and went directly to the Mona Lisa. Honestly, the fiasco around her was more impressive than she was, herself. Here's how it went: directly in front of the painting was a very thick pane of bulletproof glass, which caused a bit of a glare. Three feet in front of that, was a large wooden barricade. Another fifteen feet beyond that was where people finally stood behind yet another barricade. So much for a close look. I waited my turn to get a good photo and continued to wander the labyrinth. I had not realized that the museum was formerly a palace and spent more time investigating the building itself than the artwork inside before leaving.
My free tour started at the Fountain of Saint Michel. Although I had already seen many of the sights on the tour, it was one of the best I've been on. Especially for being free. The tour guide was very excited about the city and its history and was very informal, which made for a much more comfortable tour. Even pointed out a few things I hadn't seen, such as a well known English bookstore known for housing people that can't afford a place to stay. The tour lasted three and half hours and ended at the Obelisk, a 3000 year old gift from Egypt at the end of the Champs de Elysse. I decided to wander up the street to the Arch de Triumph.
The street was lined with the most expensive places in Paris. Eats, shops, banks, you name it. The Nike Paris store even had the bike that Lance Armstrong rode during his first race back on the bike. Peugot had an entire storefront with super futuristic concept cars. Louis Vuitton had an entire building! And at the end of the street was the Arch de Triumph.
You can't imagine the size of this military monument until you've been there. Huge does not cut it. Massive does not cut it. It is the largest single monument I have ever seen. Though it's not really that interesting, the sheer size of the thing made me hang around for a while and watch the traffic chaos going on around. (It's surrounded by a 12 lane roundabout without lines!)
My last stop for the day was the Eiffel Tower. Aside from being the most well known monument in the world, this monstrous structure was even more impressive than the Arc de Triumph. I was not at all expecting what I approached. It was a wonder of engineering. Made entirely of iron, the first level towered over my head. The top of the tower is higher than Sacre Cour. I stood in awe for a while before heading home, the happiest I'd been since I'd arrived in Paris.
At dinner, I discovered one of the girls, Nadine, (ha...girl. She had just turned 30) was leaving Paris the next night and wanted to go out. We rushed to find some wine to drink for the night, but everything was already closed. As we were sitting around the table, another girl, Andrea, (32 this time) suggested that we go up the Eiffel Tower at night. Neither Nadine or I had done this (I was actually going to skip it) but it sounded like a better idea than sitting around, so that's where the three of us went.
I can't believe I had considered not walking up the Eiffel Tower at night. The lighting on the structure was amazing, it gave me a true view of the beauty of the architecture. We took tons of photos of ourselves, the tower and the city. Paris at night is quite a view. There are no high rise buildings, so you can see down every little century old street. To top it all off, I was able to experience it with new friends, welcome after spending the last couple days by myself. I'm not sure I wanted to leave Paris.
Waking up the next morning didn't help my mood. There were only two showers in the whole place and they weren't even on my floor. And they sucked. I survived my shower without getting any odd foot infections, grabbed my things and got the heck out. Goodbye, Aloha Hostel. I had received instructions on how to get to my next place via HostelWorld, so I grabbed a metro and went. The second hostel, a South Korean run place, was on the Southern outskirts of the city. I managed to find the street it was on (without a map!) but the address given was wrong. Luckily, the girl that lived across the street seen be staring blankly and asked if I needed help. IN ENGLISH! I guess she'd seen a lot of backpackers and knew what to do. My place was right across the street from where I was standing.
I walked in to a friendly welcome from the girl who was in charge and she gave me my room and sheets. However, I was five Euros short of what I owed her for the stay and there wasn't an ATM anywhere near. She asked if I was going into the city, which I was, and told me to bring the money back that night. So I set out to explore Paris.
It didn't take long to gain command of the Paris metro. For its size, it is very easy to use. I rode the hour up to Montmarre, the “red light district” if you will, in the Northern part of the city. As I walked up the stairs to street level, a smile broke. I was standing face to face with the Moulin Rouge! I snapped a few photos and wandered off to find the next item on my list for the day, Sacre Cour. It took a little longer than expected to find the legendary church, but along the way I ran into another which was also beautiful, so I won't complain. When I seen the huge stairway, I knew I had arrived.
The trek up the stairs was a long one. Sacre Cour is the second highest point in the city, only to the top of the Eiffel Tower. The church is beautiful on its own. However, the real treat on the hill was the overlook of the city. It is so far North that, looking out, you can see the entire city and every single monument and attraction there. I spent about an hour at Sacre Cour and decided to head South to the Louvre. It took me an hour and a half to get there.
I didn't actually arrive directly to the Louvre, I had gotten lost again and ended up walking up to the garden in front of it, which was a nice treat. It was a very controlled and perfect garden, which was fitting for the grandeur of the Louvre. Another smile broke when I caught glimpse of the giant glass pyramid. These are my favorite moments, when I see a monument that I recognize. It's so surreal.
By that time, I had been walking all day and was exhausted. I headed down the street to the last stop on my adventures for the day, Notre Dame. This cathedral has been the most impressive structure I have seen to date. It took 200 years to build, and I understand why. It's sheer size was awe inspiring, the art was just the knockout punch. Not a single statue or pane of glass in that church was the same. Every single one was unique. Even inside the church, the effect was the same. Gorgeous art, gorgeous architecture.
I stopped at a fancy French restaurant for the fancy French dinner I wanted (which was amazing, it's good to have real food occasionally) and headed home. Everybody at my hostel was very friendly. So I ended up spending the rest of the evening sharing a communal guitar with a South Korean guy and a Finnish guy. My nights in Paris were slowly getting better!
Four nights, five days in Paris. Long story short, I don't think it was enough. This feeling is starting to be recurrent.
When I awoke to catch my train out of Rotterdam, it seemed that my bad luck had not ended. The first train, to Rotterdam Centraal, was late. I managed to board, slightly freaking out about missing my next train OUT of Roterdam. However, when I arrived at Centraal, the train to Brussels was running twenty minutes late as well! I was standing on the platform talking to a couple Dutch businessmen when we realized that our train was now thirty minutes late. Shortly after, a message came over the intercom informing us that the train was not coming, but another had been adjusted to our desitnation and would be arriving on a different platform shortly. Wonderful. Now I just had to worry about missing the next leg, as I had to catch four different trains that day.
Thankfully, I caught the next train and my troubles ended there. I arrived in Antwerpen to find several other backpackers waiting for my train, turns out that the line I was directed on was a common backpacker line since no reservations were required. Near Lille de Flanders station in France, I met a couple guys from Detroit heading my way. We ended up eating a DELICIOIUS six euro crepe from the restaruant across the road from the station and ran back to catch our next train.
We finally arrived in Paris – Gare de Nord at seven twenty that evening. Nothing like an eight our day train! I stepped off the train into a giant, packed station. I had seen it in the movies, but it was still amazing. Immediatley, we went to book tickets to our next city. The desk clerk informed me that the next night train out of Paris to Madrid was not available until the 18th! Well. Looks like I was staying in Paris a few days longer than expected. Did I mention that by that point I already hated it?
Yes, hated. In such a huge city international business city, they used French and ONLY French. Even the people that claimed to speak English weren't that good. Not to mention the city was HUGE. And the French have a horrible reputation for being rude and unhelpful. I was terrified. I booked my ticket and went to find the metro. I had already recieved a huge city map from the EuRail girl, but I couldn't find anything about where my hostel was. I learned soon how ineffecient maps are in this city. The man at the metro information desk was very helpful, though, and gave me a metro map with directions on how to find my stop. When I arrived at the station near my hostel was when I really started to get upset.
The street I was on wasn't even on my map. Everything should have been on that thing, it was massive! I was so lost that I ended up having to ask for directions again. Which still weren't much help, but they got me there. After trying to find the spot on the map, I realized that there are so many streets in Paris, you'll never have a detailed map. It would be too big to carry easily. So I was stuck in the biggest city in an unfriendly country where nobody spoke fluent English with a map that isn't even complete. Excuse my French, but fuckin' great.
The people at my hostel weren't even very friendly. It was supposedly one of the best hostels in the city, too. I dropped off my things and decided to catch a view of the Eiffel tower at night, It was supposed to be a close walk. I somehow managed to find a street on my map and began to follow it to the tower. Coming from Amsterdam, I had learned to disregard walking signals and just go when there was an opportunity. I had just run a red light and heard a familiar language behind me say, “This guy looks must know what he's doing, let's just follow him!” I turned, smiled and said, “That may not be the best idea, I'm pretty well lost!” The couple were from St. Louis. They were on their way to the tower, too. We walked and chatted and eventually came upon a crowd nearing the size of the Orange in Amsterdam. I had (against all odds and unknowingly) arrived in Paris on Bastille Day. The most important national holiday in France! What awaited me that night was completely unexpected and completly lucky.
The tower was beautifully lit when we took our place. At eleven, the whole park went dark, including the tower. But the fireworks, oh the fireworks. It was the largest and longest show I've ever seen. Watching the constant explosions beyond the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower was incredible. Near the end of the show, the tower did somthing I didn't expect. It strobed. Thousands of tiny strobe lights lit upon the tower, making it shimmer among the fire and night. I was awestruck. Maybe I was going to like Paris after all.
Go back and read part one. Now.
I woke up this morning bright and early to check out at 10am. After waking Kate down to the AH for some toothpaste, we went our seperate ways. They wanted to see the Van Gogh, but I wasn't interested in the line. The line for the Heineken Expereince was much shorter. I had some of the freshest beer I've ever had (all while learning of the Heineken history!) and headed North to find my train. By this time it was three and my train wasn't scheduled to leave until nearly five, so I took my time to explore the downtown. Eventually I ran into a huge crowd of people waiting by one of the canals, turns out they were waiting for the soccer team to return home! I watched them go by on their fancy decked out boat and walked to the train station.
That's when the stress started.
At half past four, I found out that I had to take a DIFFERENT train to Rotterdam in order to connect at Brussels. I fretted about for a bit, but finally found the right train. I sat down beside three Egyptians who were traveling, and a couple Dutch guys. We were fifteen minutes out of Amsterdam, almost to the airport Shipol, when the cable broke.
The train system here in the Netherlands has two "rails" if you will. The rail it rides on, and the electrical cable that runs above the train to supply power. There was a loud SNAP followed by a few crashing sounds.
Immediately people dove for the center of the train. The loose cable was being whipped about the train wildly and we had no brakes or electricity. Wonderful. The train eventually slowed to a stop, but we were not allowed to get off. Apparently, the outside of the train was charged with 50,000 volts of train power. I was going to miss my train to Paris. So the Dutchmen, Egyptians and I made friends for a couple hours. When we were finally allowed to remove ourselves from the train, no other trains were going in or out of Shipol. The railway had had to ground the electrical wire because they couldn't get it to shut down. Luckily one of the Dutchmen lived outside Rotterdam and offered to give me a ride.
Mind you, this man had no idea who I was or where I was headed. But, he was awesome enough to give me a ride to Rotterdam Central, offer me advice on what to do with my now wasted train ticket to Paris and ask for absolutley nothing in return. We had a great conversation on the 45 minute car ride to Rotterdam, I learned a lot about Holland. I wish everybody on this planet was as awesome as that man, he deserves way more than he took for his help.
At Rotterdam, I was able to retrieve a refund for my train ticket, but there were no other HiSpeed rails to Paris for the next three days. I opted to take the slow day train to Paris tomorrow. I was (am) stuck in Rotterdam. Now I had to find a place to sleep.
The information booth at the train station was unhelpful, so I ended up asking a police officer (with the same watch as me!) for advice on where to sleep. He had the perfect place for me to go, where I am now. A sharp little hostel (you'll see photos, it's the cubey- yellow place) one train stop away from Rotterdam Central at Rotterdam Blaak.
What is it with the Duch being so nice? I LOVE IT!
Okay, I've been writing for nearly an hour now, and I'm sick of it. Remember to ask me more about it when you talk to me. It's quite the amazing experience to be stranded in a city you've barely heard of with nobody you can call for help. I'm sure I can talk for a while. But my fingers are done typing.
Talk to you in Paris!
That's the first thing that happens when you miss your train to Paris.
I'm lucky the last 2 days have been awesome. It helps counter things a bit.
Let's start from when I left off yesterday.
I actually typed my previous blog from the lobby of my Amsterdam hostel while I was waiting for the hosts to replace the sheets on the bed I was supposed to have. I eventually gave up waiting when the Colorado duo - Alex and Kaitlyn - showed up downstairs. I tossed my stuff in the room and we took off. Destination: FOAM. The photography museum! Rain was starting to fall as we walked out the door, so we opted to walk instead of ride bikes. I had a good idea of where it was, anyways, so I volunteered to lead the way. Twenty minutes, no problem.
Two hours later, we arrived at FOAM. It really is a twenty minute walk, I swear. It just takes longer when you get lost along the way, stop every ten meters for photos and investigate every coffee shop along the way (searching for space cake, of course)!
The museum itself was impressive. But I don't think you'd care if you're not a photographer, so I'll leave out my ooohs and aaahs. Suffice to say there is some amazing stuff in photo museums.
After FOAM, the next best place was the Van Gogh museum. This time, we made the walk in much better time, stopping only once to eat our space cake under a tree in the park. While avoiding more rain. We continued on to the musuem to find a very upsetting, very HUGE line. Typical. Next stop, AlbertHeijn (the grocery) and hostel. I left Alex and Kate to nap while I went to Amsterdam Central to book a train to Paris (yes, the one I missed) and rent a bike.
So, I hopped on the tram. Everything was perfectly fine and dandy until I reached central. There was a four hour wait for the ticket window. Take a number. Wait. Wait. Wait some more. An hour and a half into my queue, I decided to go get a bike. As I stood up, I quickly found out that the space cake had kicked in. Two hours later than expected. Bike rental was going to be a blast! I walked down the block and into the bike shop five minutes before they closed. Turns out the guy who was helping me knew a lot about Kansas. If only I were sober enough to care. I somehow managed to learn the incredibly complex locking mechanism (or so it seemed at the time) and got my bike. Back to waiting. After finally making it to the ticket window, I was told that the train from Amsterdam to Paris was booked out, so I opted for a stop in Brussles followed by a HiSpeed train to Paris.
And, hours after I had left the hostel, I began the bike ride back. Thank God I was de- stoned by that time, because I took the wrong street back. Have you ever looked at a map of Amsterdam? THERE IS NO METHOD. I ended up in Leidsplein, the shopping district I had eaten at two nights ago, and eventually found my way back to the hostel.
To turn right around and head back downtown. This time it was much more entertaining, we were headed to the Red Light District. I took a few photos, which you can see via my photo link. It was everything you'd expect, with more dildos than you can ever imagine. I even got yelled at by a girl for having my camera pointed the wrong direction! We headed back to the hostel again and met some other American travlers in the lobby. This called for a celebration! A celebration like wandering to our curch stoop and smoking some more. I'm not sure how anybody in Amsterdam gets anything done. After our smoke, I went back to the hostel and passed out.
Or so Dutch.
My last day and a half in Amsterdam have been incredible. When I last left off, I was sitting in Museumplein, I believe. Shortly after I finished writing, I took a trip to the Dutch fashion block just East of the park. After perusing the street and deciding that I didn't have near enough money to even go in any of the stores, I went to find dinner. That odd looking piece of pie in my photo album is what I ate. Spinach and mozzarella, topped with a tomato wedge. Believe it or not, it was delicious. Then it started to rain. I made my way back to Hotel Jenson (where I am staying) just as the downpour started. By that time it was 9 o'clock or so and when I walked in to my dorm EVERYBODY was there.
I was very lucky with roomies, I think. Two were from New York, two more from Colorado. We were hoping to go out, but by 11 o'clock the rain had still not stopped. To the liquor store! Which was closed. We tossed around the idea of going to the Red Light District, but the ride was too long in the rain. In the end, the Coloradans (?) and I decided to wander around the streets and smoke. (Yes, THAT kind of smoke. When in Amsterdam...) As we began to wander, the rain slowed to a pleasant drizzle. We took a seat on a nifty porch to go through our first, and found a coffee shop for the second. By the time the "coffeeshop" closed at one in the morning, hunger was a serious issue. I had not yet been to Bulldog's (the local dealing store) or Vondelpark so we decided to walk that direction to find food. At two, we came up to a very busy little place across from the Hard Rock Amsterdam that had the most delicious fries I've ever eaten. Though, in hindsight that could've been the effects and hunger. We took an hour and a half wandering back to the hotel, and I passed out at four. It was a wonderful night!
I woke up at nine the following morning to go find another hostel. When I had booked Hotel Janson, the booking site had listed Sunday night as full. I found out that morning that it wasn't. My second hostel, Euphemia Hotel was only a kilometer or two away, so it wasn't so bad. I showed up at half past ten to find out that my room was not yet ready, and there was no place to do my laundry, so I was forced to walk around the block to do wash my clothes in a laundromat while they readied my room. On the plus side, that hostel had in room Wi-Fi, so I was able to say hi to mom and dad for a while. Then I slept.
Only for about an hour, though. Sunday was a busy day. I had one of the most incredible experiences I've ever had. There is NOTHING, absolutely NOTHING that can compare to being in the capital city of a nation participating in the World Cup Final. Five huge screens had been set up by Nike in Museumplein, an area the size of a football field. Now that you can visualize that, add 200,000 people dressed in nothing but oranje (orange). The atmosphere was almost overwhelming, I've never seen anything like it in the U.S. Honestly, I don't think I will. Not having anything orange to wear, I picked up a giant Holland soccer flag for ten Euro and tied it about like a cape. I had to look official on my way to find beer. The major grocery, AlbertHein, was luckily right beside the park, so I stopped in to pick up a six pack of Heineken. Which, by the way, Is cheaper than water. How awesome is that?
I walked around the park by myself taking photos (to be posted as soon as I can) for a while and picked up two free orange shirts. ING was tossings shirts that said "oranje oud spanje" or something like that and Heineken was giving away shirts that said "Bertje!" Bertje was more my size, so I threw it on and went back to my hotel to drop off my camera. I came back and hour later to twice as many people as before. The crowd was so dense that you could hardly move!
I planted myself in a spot and some Dutch girl yelled "BERTJE!" at me. So of course I shouted back at the top of my lungs, still having no idea what it meant. I think she sensed it and asked me (there were a lot of tourists in the city) and was kind enough to explain the play on words. I ended up spending the rest of the day with she and her friends and watching the match with them. A better option, I think, than with other Americans.
Watching the match was a very unique experience. I don't think that I've ever felt so much like somebody else, or so much a part of something else. The Dutch go CRAZY for their soccer. Van Gogh has a quote, "Orange is the color of insanity," which was perfectly fitting for the situation. Nike even made an awesome Dutch commercial about it. Make sure you click the link. There was so much tension in the air, the crowd was silent for most of the match, eyes glued to the screens. Only taking breaks when the match stopped.
I think the most profound part of the day was the loss. When you walk out of a Chiefs loss, everyone is sad, but the rest of the state and country doesn't really care. EVERYBODY was bummed after Spain's goal. They knew it was the end. There was even a fight right in front of me in the crowd because of it. I don't even normally support Holland and I was upset. I didn't feel like going out after that (nor did anyone else), so I said goodbye to my Dutch friends and went back to my hostel to pass out.
All in all, I think that it was one of the best experiences I've ever had, or ever will have. It will be tough to find something that can compare. It will be something I'll remember forever. Check another few off under "Abso-freaking-lutely Amazing."
Hello from Museumplein! It is currently around 5:30pm here. Here being a wold famous park in Southwest Amsterdam, Netherlands! It is host to the well known Iamsterdam sign and is surrounded by several museums and the fashion block.
I apologize for being so slow to finally update my blog. Internet access is just about everywhere (I'm actually using Amsterdam free-city-wifi in the park), but that is only in major cities. Staying with Anouk, I had to rely on her house for internet, but by the time we arrived home, I was usually too exhausted to even think about writing anything. I'll work on that, I think it will be better from now on.
Anyways.
I arrived in Amsterdam this morning at a quarter after nine my time, which is somewhere around one or two in the morning for most of you reading this. I took the night train from Baden, Switzerland, another city near Zurich. The best moment of this trip so far was when I stepped on that train. It's a rush when you actually make your first train by yourself. I was rushing up and down the platform trying to make sure it was the right one. When I finally found my seat, I asked my seat partner, in broken German, if he spoke English. He replied with a slow "ne-in" and frowned and turned forward. About that time he laughed with a "JUST KIDDING!" Turns out he was and American from Oregon. And the two people behind us were from Chicago. What are the chances? The remainder train ride itself was fairly pleasant, I chatted with the people around me for a few hours and slept the remainder of the twelve hour ride.
I awoke about half and hour from Amsterdam Central Station. After getting off the the train fretting for a couple hours - while wandering the city - about where I was going to stay, I sat down at a lovely little bakery shop and booked two separate hostels for the 4 days I'm going to be here. The World Cup is tomorrow and Holland happens to be playing! I'm stoked that I'll get to experience some real futbol fanaticism, let alone being in country for a team playing in the final! I made my way to the first hostel, about ten minute's walk from the park I'm in now and discovered that they have no wireless internet. Great. As long as I have it in the park.
That's about all for today, as I haven't done much but wander the city. I'll post some photos from my exploration of Amsterdam when I get the chance, probably tomorrow, and will sit down to write about my first four days in Switzerland, which you've probably already seen via my photo albums. (If you haven't, there's a link at the top of my blog.)
Doei! (That's Dutch for goodbye!)
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