Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
El Ladrón
Madrid, Spain
Just got into Madrid. I still have my wallet. Good news.
So I landed at Madrid-Barajas Airport, which was almost as cool as Barcelona´s airport. I made my way to the metro station without too much difficulty and hopped on the train. Then I switched trains. As I was switching to the third and final train I had to take to get to my hostel, I rode an escalator up to the track. It was crowded, which wasn´t unusual. Not paying much attention, I realized I felt something strange happening in my front left pocket. In the course of about half a second, I reached for my pocket as the guy behind me pulled his arm back away from me. It was evident that, had I not been a little more observant, a friendly Spaniard was intending to lighten my load by one wallet.
Now, I did my research. There is pretty much nothing of any value in my wallet. It contains my Cal Lutheran ID Card, about € 10 and a few receipts. Everything important(passport, large bills, credit cards) is tucked away in a pouch under my shirt than hangs around my neck, and it´s worked out very well. But still, it was a jarring experience. I´ve never really had anything stolen from me before.
So... back to the story. As I reach for my pocket and cover it with my hand, I turn around and look at two guys and a girl who seem to be together. They´re young and seem to look a bit less "put together" than most of the other Spaniards using the metro. And I had absolutely no idea what to do. Do I yell at them? Do I pretend it didn´t happen? I thought about calling for help or police, but I didn´t know if these guys were about to get physical. Or if they had anything on them, other than the wallets of other unsuspecting victims. I got off the escalator, still staring at them and a bit bewildered, and they got off too. They then got right back on the escalator going the opposite direction, perhaps looking for a less observant tourist, but staring back at me the whole time.
Other than that, though, Spain is awesome. Of the countries I´ve visited, if I were to move to Europe, this would be where I´d want to go.
Just got into Madrid. I still have my wallet. Good news.
So I landed at Madrid-Barajas Airport, which was almost as cool as Barcelona´s airport. I made my way to the metro station without too much difficulty and hopped on the train. Then I switched trains. As I was switching to the third and final train I had to take to get to my hostel, I rode an escalator up to the track. It was crowded, which wasn´t unusual. Not paying much attention, I realized I felt something strange happening in my front left pocket. In the course of about half a second, I reached for my pocket as the guy behind me pulled his arm back away from me. It was evident that, had I not been a little more observant, a friendly Spaniard was intending to lighten my load by one wallet.
Now, I did my research. There is pretty much nothing of any value in my wallet. It contains my Cal Lutheran ID Card, about € 10 and a few receipts. Everything important(passport, large bills, credit cards) is tucked away in a pouch under my shirt than hangs around my neck, and it´s worked out very well. But still, it was a jarring experience. I´ve never really had anything stolen from me before.
So... back to the story. As I reach for my pocket and cover it with my hand, I turn around and look at two guys and a girl who seem to be together. They´re young and seem to look a bit less "put together" than most of the other Spaniards using the metro. And I had absolutely no idea what to do. Do I yell at them? Do I pretend it didn´t happen? I thought about calling for help or police, but I didn´t know if these guys were about to get physical. Or if they had anything on them, other than the wallets of other unsuspecting victims. I got off the escalator, still staring at them and a bit bewildered, and they got off too. They then got right back on the escalator going the opposite direction, perhaps looking for a less observant tourist, but staring back at me the whole time.
Other than that, though, Spain is awesome. Of the countries I´ve visited, if I were to move to Europe, this would be where I´d want to go.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Peace Is Organized
Koblenz, Germany
French people are like Americans at crosswalks, except more so. If the road is relatively clear, or even if it's not... whatever, they will cross the street when they want to cross the street. But in Germany, there is absolute obedience to the crosswalk signals. I have not seen a single person violate the little green or red man indicating when it is and is not acceptable to cross. There is this little tiny one way street, where you could almost jump from one sidewalk to the other without touching pavement... no cars anywhere nearby... and there were the Germans, just standing and waiting patiently for the signal to give them permission to move. One kid started to cross and his mom pulled him back. He looked up and realized the signal was red and seemed terrified of what he had done.
I like Germany.
French people are like Americans at crosswalks, except more so. If the road is relatively clear, or even if it's not... whatever, they will cross the street when they want to cross the street. But in Germany, there is absolute obedience to the crosswalk signals. I have not seen a single person violate the little green or red man indicating when it is and is not acceptable to cross. There is this little tiny one way street, where you could almost jump from one sidewalk to the other without touching pavement... no cars anywhere nearby... and there were the Germans, just standing and waiting patiently for the signal to give them permission to move. One kid started to cross and his mom pulled him back. He looked up and realized the signal was red and seemed terrified of what he had done.
I like Germany.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Your Baguette Is Showing
Place Stravinsky, Marais, Paris
Yesterday, I explored London a bit, but mostly hung out and got a sense of where I was. I took and enjoyed the Original Tour, that big, red, double-decker bus so common in movies... also so common in London. It was good to be able to sit down on the bus when I wanted, get off when I wanted, and experience London without having to be too focused -- I was tired from quite a long travel day.
I did get a chance to cruise down the river from the Tower of London to Westminster. The guide was funny... he reminded me of a tour guide from The Jungle Cruise in Disneyland.
Another highlight of my brief stay in the UK (don't worry, I'm ending my trip there) was the Winston Churchill Museum and Cabinet War Rooms. This exhibit basically takes the actual underground bunkers that England's Prime Minister, Churchill, used during World War II and restores them to what they looked like at the time, complete with models and audio recreations. As London was bombed by the Nazis, Churchill was barricaded underground, planning the war.
After some moseying around in London, I headed for St. Pancras International Station and, after an hour, got on the Eurostar train to Paris. I guess I was tired because I slept through nearly all of it. I awoke occasionally and thought, "I wonder when we'll go through the 'chunnel' and get to France." After a while, I realized that the street signs on the nearby highway were in French. I missed it completely. Oh well, I can see it next time I guess.
Maybe it's psychological, a response to being here alone, but I keep "seeing" people I know from home. Constantly. I know, of course, that the person I see in London is not the person I know back home, but my brain is really amazed by the perception of similarity. Maybe everyone has a European doppelganger.
Arriving at Gare du Nord in Paris, I discovered that I had plenty of British pounds, plenty of American dollars, but not a single Euro. I searched without success for an ATM or a means to pay for the metro to my hostel but had no luck. I finally changed some of my dollars at an exchange booth and went on my way to Laumiere station.
I felt uncomfortable in Europe at first, but by now, I think I feel a bit at home. Everything is so old and awesome.
I got a little lost on the way to the hostel, but by this time I was feeling tired and a bit antisocial. When I finally got there, I looked around, read a bit, grabbed some pringles and a Coke and called it a night. It was a bit difficult to sleep... there's the jet lag... but I held out okay.
Sodas are different here. I tried Dr. Pepper and Cherry Coke and both weren't the same drinks that I usually get back home. They tasted more... natural? Kind of like "Pepsi Throwbacks." I think they use real sugar instead of corn syrup.
When I woke up today (for the fourth or fifth time) I took a shower and got moving. I started my day with a planned walk in Marais that I got from Rick Steves' guidebook. I started at Place de la Bastille, an enormous roundabout and the former site of a royal prison liberated during one of the (apparently many) French revolutions. In the center of the roundabout is a giant statue of the god Mercury, carrying the torch of freedom
In the nearby Place des Voyages, where Louis XII rides his horse in the center, people are just going about their business. They run, stretch, walk or just hang out here -- it's like a park, but not. As old as this area is, it remains affluent. The houses surrounding the Place des Voyages were built for, but never used by, royalty.
On past assorted shops, botiques and squares, I found a quaint Jewish Quarter, where Jewish folks of all types were starting their day. It looked like a hasidic version of Disney's Beauty and the Beast.
Just down from the Jewish Quarter, I was walking along a narrow street when a man walked by. He pointed to the area below my waist and said what sounded like "Baguette?" Having no idea what he was talking about, I answered "Bonjour!" He kept pointing at my, um, area and eventually I realized that my pants zipper was down. Here's how that conversation looked for him:
FRENCH MAN: Excuse me, your fly is down, sir.
TOURIST: Hello!!
Thanks, random Paris dude. I appreciate it.
Yesterday, I explored London a bit, but mostly hung out and got a sense of where I was. I took and enjoyed the Original Tour, that big, red, double-decker bus so common in movies... also so common in London. It was good to be able to sit down on the bus when I wanted, get off when I wanted, and experience London without having to be too focused -- I was tired from quite a long travel day.
I did get a chance to cruise down the river from the Tower of London to Westminster. The guide was funny... he reminded me of a tour guide from The Jungle Cruise in Disneyland.
Another highlight of my brief stay in the UK (don't worry, I'm ending my trip there) was the Winston Churchill Museum and Cabinet War Rooms. This exhibit basically takes the actual underground bunkers that England's Prime Minister, Churchill, used during World War II and restores them to what they looked like at the time, complete with models and audio recreations. As London was bombed by the Nazis, Churchill was barricaded underground, planning the war.
After some moseying around in London, I headed for St. Pancras International Station and, after an hour, got on the Eurostar train to Paris. I guess I was tired because I slept through nearly all of it. I awoke occasionally and thought, "I wonder when we'll go through the 'chunnel' and get to France." After a while, I realized that the street signs on the nearby highway were in French. I missed it completely. Oh well, I can see it next time I guess.
Maybe it's psychological, a response to being here alone, but I keep "seeing" people I know from home. Constantly. I know, of course, that the person I see in London is not the person I know back home, but my brain is really amazed by the perception of similarity. Maybe everyone has a European doppelganger.
Arriving at Gare du Nord in Paris, I discovered that I had plenty of British pounds, plenty of American dollars, but not a single Euro. I searched without success for an ATM or a means to pay for the metro to my hostel but had no luck. I finally changed some of my dollars at an exchange booth and went on my way to Laumiere station.
I felt uncomfortable in Europe at first, but by now, I think I feel a bit at home. Everything is so old and awesome.
I got a little lost on the way to the hostel, but by this time I was feeling tired and a bit antisocial. When I finally got there, I looked around, read a bit, grabbed some pringles and a Coke and called it a night. It was a bit difficult to sleep... there's the jet lag... but I held out okay.
Sodas are different here. I tried Dr. Pepper and Cherry Coke and both weren't the same drinks that I usually get back home. They tasted more... natural? Kind of like "Pepsi Throwbacks." I think they use real sugar instead of corn syrup.
When I woke up today (for the fourth or fifth time) I took a shower and got moving. I started my day with a planned walk in Marais that I got from Rick Steves' guidebook. I started at Place de la Bastille, an enormous roundabout and the former site of a royal prison liberated during one of the (apparently many) French revolutions. In the center of the roundabout is a giant statue of the god Mercury, carrying the torch of freedom
In the nearby Place des Voyages, where Louis XII rides his horse in the center, people are just going about their business. They run, stretch, walk or just hang out here -- it's like a park, but not. As old as this area is, it remains affluent. The houses surrounding the Place des Voyages were built for, but never used by, royalty.
On past assorted shops, botiques and squares, I found a quaint Jewish Quarter, where Jewish folks of all types were starting their day. It looked like a hasidic version of Disney's Beauty and the Beast.
Just down from the Jewish Quarter, I was walking along a narrow street when a man walked by. He pointed to the area below my waist and said what sounded like "Baguette?" Having no idea what he was talking about, I answered "Bonjour!" He kept pointing at my, um, area and eventually I realized that my pants zipper was down. Here's how that conversation looked for him:
FRENCH MAN: Excuse me, your fly is down, sir.
TOURIST: Hello!!
Thanks, random Paris dude. I appreciate it.
Monday, August 3, 2009
London Calling
South Bank of the Thames River, near the London Eye
London is nothing like Los Angeles. In L.A., people drive from place to place to avoid congestion. Anything older than 30 years gets torn down for something new. There's no central hub, no dominant culture, no unifying force.
In London, it seems different. All of the community and the festivity seems to be centered around the river. The people are proud of their English heritage in a different way than Americans are, I can't quite describe it. God save the queen, or something.
Arriving in London Gatwick Airport, I felt a little overwhelmed... not with emotion, but with wonder. I got off the plane, wandered through customs and eventually figured out how to get into "real" London. They say it's the capital of the world, and I can see why.
A relatively brief train ride took me north to Victoria Station. That place is huge. I've been to big train stations before, but there was something more than just its size that made it seem almost menacing. I think it might have been the people. Everyone moving about every direction with purpose and intent. Smokers and businessmen, students and older people all scurrying like part of a complex performance that isn't beautiful until you're on the outside looking in.
I wandered the streets for a while with that "Holy Crap, I'm in Europe" feeling before I found the bus tour I was looking for. The lady who sold me the ticket asked, a bit surprised, "You're traveling alone?" Yep. I miss the people I care about, of course, but it's nice being able to go where I want, when I want to go with no consultation required. That said, next time I come, you're all invited.
London is nothing like Los Angeles. In L.A., people drive from place to place to avoid congestion. Anything older than 30 years gets torn down for something new. There's no central hub, no dominant culture, no unifying force.
In London, it seems different. All of the community and the festivity seems to be centered around the river. The people are proud of their English heritage in a different way than Americans are, I can't quite describe it. God save the queen, or something.
Arriving in London Gatwick Airport, I felt a little overwhelmed... not with emotion, but with wonder. I got off the plane, wandered through customs and eventually figured out how to get into "real" London. They say it's the capital of the world, and I can see why.
A relatively brief train ride took me north to Victoria Station. That place is huge. I've been to big train stations before, but there was something more than just its size that made it seem almost menacing. I think it might have been the people. Everyone moving about every direction with purpose and intent. Smokers and businessmen, students and older people all scurrying like part of a complex performance that isn't beautiful until you're on the outside looking in.
I wandered the streets for a while with that "Holy Crap, I'm in Europe" feeling before I found the bus tour I was looking for. The lady who sold me the ticket asked, a bit surprised, "You're traveling alone?" Yep. I miss the people I care about, of course, but it's nice being able to go where I want, when I want to go with no consultation required. That said, next time I come, you're all invited.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Vagabonds
Somewhere over Colorado
Well, here we go. Over the next couple weeks, I will more than double the number of countries to which I have been. I will speak -- or try to speak -- five different languages. I will live in the cramped quarters of hostels. I'll see museums and mountains, royalty and ruins, statues and... whatever. I guess I'm ready, although it doesn't feel like it.
I intend to see the sights but I also plan to spend a lot of time just walking around or sitting on a bench, watching the people. It should be fun and give me time to think. About what... I dont know.
So far, logistically, everything is going smooth. I woke up early on the Swagerty couch, hopped on the FlyAway bus and made it to LAX with time to spare. As I write this (in my journal, which eventually gets posted up here), I'm somewhere over Colorado, on my way to change planes in Philadelphia and continue on to London Gatwick Airport.
Well, here we go. Over the next couple weeks, I will more than double the number of countries to which I have been. I will speak -- or try to speak -- five different languages. I will live in the cramped quarters of hostels. I'll see museums and mountains, royalty and ruins, statues and... whatever. I guess I'm ready, although it doesn't feel like it.
I intend to see the sights but I also plan to spend a lot of time just walking around or sitting on a bench, watching the people. It should be fun and give me time to think. About what... I dont know.
So far, logistically, everything is going smooth. I woke up early on the Swagerty couch, hopped on the FlyAway bus and made it to LAX with time to spare. As I write this (in my journal, which eventually gets posted up here), I'm somewhere over Colorado, on my way to change planes in Philadelphia and continue on to London Gatwick Airport.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Tenderfoot
Thinking about what to wear while walking about Europe. My heart says Rainbow sandals can do no wrong.
One Week Out
A week from tomorrow morning, I'll hop on a plane to London for the start of my 18-day trip to Europe. While there, I will be staying in Paris, Koblenz, Barcelona, Madrid and London. I have a passport. I have a backpack. I have hostel / hotel reservations. I have a camera. I have a tentative itinerary. I have appropriate travel clothing. I have everything I'm supposed to have.
I still feel totally unprepared. There are no specific "What if?" questions that come to mind really, but just the general "What if something happens for which I am not prepared?" I guess that will be part of the adventure. I'm up for it. Eighteen days alone in Europe will be awesome but also trying. I know I won't be able to see everything I "should" see and I have tried to remind myself that I can't assume this will be my only trip. (I'm already plotting the next one.) But I would like to organize my time efficiently and be proactive.
So, I'll plan to write about my escapades, encounters and narrow brushes with death here as often as possible. I might even include pictures if someone teaches me how to do that. (I'm not a proficient blogger.) But I know this trip will be like nothing I've ever experienced, no matter how well or poorly I plan. And I'm pretty sure I can come back in one piece, so... here goes. 7 days left in the USA. I think I'll miss Topper's Pizza most of all.
I still feel totally unprepared. There are no specific "What if?" questions that come to mind really, but just the general "What if something happens for which I am not prepared?" I guess that will be part of the adventure. I'm up for it. Eighteen days alone in Europe will be awesome but also trying. I know I won't be able to see everything I "should" see and I have tried to remind myself that I can't assume this will be my only trip. (I'm already plotting the next one.) But I would like to organize my time efficiently and be proactive.
So, I'll plan to write about my escapades, encounters and narrow brushes with death here as often as possible. I might even include pictures if someone teaches me how to do that. (I'm not a proficient blogger.) But I know this trip will be like nothing I've ever experienced, no matter how well or poorly I plan. And I'm pretty sure I can come back in one piece, so... here goes. 7 days left in the USA. I think I'll miss Topper's Pizza most of all.
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