Nora and Peter Do Europe 2007

Vivicittà

2008-04-14T12:43:00.000-07:00

On April 6th we ran the 12k race, Vivicittà. The course started in Piazza Transalpina, a place which commemorates the last place where the "Iron Curtain" fell. The race was half in Italy and half in Slovenia, and it was Nora's second race ever and Peter's first race in over two years. We made many papers before and after the race since we came all the way from California to run!! Not exactly true, but details get lost in translation. We were called up during the ceremony and received a medal for our journey! Great day all around.

Austro-Hungarian Prison

2008-03-11T03:06:00.000-07:00

Here in Ljubljana we are spending our nights in a hostel which was once a prison. The building has been re-done by local artists and the entire complex is now a community space as well as a living piece of art. 20 of the rooms here are still cells, bars and everything. They have been designed by artists and some are still cell like while others verge into creepy. It is quite a sight. Check out their website to see all the cells.
over and out
n and p
www.souhostel.com/en/index.html

Valley of the Kings

2008-03-06T14:51:00.000-08:00

While in Luxor it is hard not to journey to one of Egypt's most visited sites: the valley of the kings. The boys, Peter, Terje, Doug, Matt and myself. Took a ferry across the Nile to the West Bank and rented bikes for the day. The roads are paved but quite small, the many tour buses proved to be a tad death defying. The ride to the Valley is all up hill, Peter earned his red and white king of the mountain jersey in a last minute sprint against me and reached the parking lot first. When you get your ticket to the valley you are able to visit three of the tombs there. If you want to see Tut then you have to pay extra, needless to say we did not. We ventured down into Ramses IV, one tombs with the best preserved paintings and carvings. It is also called the Harper's tomb in reference to a scene painted on the wall. We then climbed up into the cliffs to find the tomb of Thuthmosis III. Once up on the cliff we headed down into the stairs and into the rock.Terje and Nora decending into Tuthomis III

We traveled to one room and then another lower one. The heat down here was overwhelming and it was hard to take in a full breath. The paintings on the wall however were the most unique we had scene. They were not carved like other hieroglyphics but drawn in a crude manner. I found this style more attractive then the perfection of other hieroglyphics I had seen.

Hieroglyphics inside Ththmosis III

Our last pick was Ramses III. A shorter tomb then the other two but had some Coptic graffiti in it from the 1800's. It is strange how the defacement of this ancient tomb has become a historical marker in its self.

We spent over 4 hours exploring the tombs and were happy that the way home was down hill!

Trekking

2008-02-13T13:07:00.000-08:00

Trekking outside of Al Qusar, in the Dakhla Oasis. Nora, Peter and Doug.

We stopped in a garden and picked some fresh dates off the palms to sustain our journey.

The edge of the Oasis garden. Full of Date Palms. They are best when they fall off into your hand. The sun was melting and our progress constant. Our only company was a farmer tending to his clover fields at the edge of the garden, a lizard who scurried up the dunes and a lone dog marching towards his mysterious destination. Peter and Doug.

The views were breathtaking and we all slept well that night. Our dinner was much earned.

Life on the Oasis

2008-02-12T11:01:00.000-08:00

After the hecticness of Luxor and Cairo we needed some calm. We headed out to the Western Desert with Doug and his i-pod. After a train, a bus, a police caravan, a bad hotel (with actual fleas in my bed), a mini bus and another police caravan, a town named Mut and a shared taxi we landed in Al Qasr. The town itself is a sleepy oasis village in the Daklah Oasis. The gardens all around are fed by a hot spring, and produce dates, oranges, lemons, bananas and other beautiful things. Most of the farmers travel to and fro in carts pulled by donkeys and the local people still seem surpried to see outsiders. Life is calm and traditional. The old town is something out of this world. While standing on the roof of our hotel and looking over the old town Doug commented that it looked like some place out of Star Wars. It is a desert village built completely out of mud bricks. There are a few people who still reside in the old section so the Egyptian goverment can't yet make it into a living museam and you are still able to wander though it all with out a fee. We wandered the steets and were surpriesed by the coolness inside the covered walkways. It keeps the heat out in the summer. The mud bricks that hold it all intact seem are crumbling before your eyes. Peter had to pee and almost took out a supporting wall of one house. But the town is constatly rebuilding and you can see where the new mud bricks are being made and dryed to repalce thouse that wayard tourists piss on. Many of the old houses have intricatly carved acacia wood lintels abouve the door. The lintels state the name of the inhabitants, the name of the builder and a verse from the Koran. The oldest we saw datetd back to 924 AD.

The historic minaret next to the modern day

There is water falling from the sky

2008-01-21T15:36:00.000-08:00

While in Cairo we decide to take the train down to Aswan and then hire a felucca and sail up the Nile for a few days. This trip is better with some friends so we head down with Terje our Norwegian couchsurfing host who decided to skip the first month of school to come see the world with us. (We must be the best house guests ever!!!) We recruit two super cool American lads, Matt from Texas and Doug from Tennessee along with Luke an Australian living in England.

We gather on the first day of the trip, (There is also a whole story about how we got screwed over here and threw a fit, but I wont go into that) at the docks, board our little boat and meet our two man crew; Captain Cool and his first mate Fatty.

Fatty

We sail up the river. All is calm and well although it is a bit cold, we snuggle down on the mattress lined deck and blankets which will in a few hours become our bed under the stars. It is in the back of all our minds that the stars might not be too great tonight since it seems a bit cloudy. We enjoy the company of the other felluca guests, our books and our journals.

Terje lost in his book, Matt looking on and Robin contemplating his newest book characters

The boat docks, a fire on the beach is enjoyed by all and sleep time rolls around. Fatty, who does most of the work on the boat, cleans up dinner. To do so he washes our dishes in the river water. We all chose not to think about the problems this may cause our intestines in the future. To protect us and the sleeping deck from the wind and the cold he puts up a windscreen and a roof, both made of bedsheets. The bed sheet that was our roof had two small strange mice like cartoon characters and the saying "Hello Brother's. We wish you both much happiness together" Some thought provoking words and images to fall asleep to, since the starts were not visible though the thick clouds.

Our boat

The first drops of rain were felt around 2:30 am. Even in our half awake states we knew that the Hello Brother's would not keep us dry. We tried to wake up Captain Cool in his small room below deck. He would not have it, "It has not rained here in 10 years" Was his only response, if some how by stating that fact would stop the water from falling from the sky. It did not and the rain came harder. Matt, in an attempt to save his down sleeping bag, was the first to make a move and join our valiant captain below decks. Peter, myself, Treje, Luke, and Marco (from Italy) soon followed carrying all the blankets we could save. The room would sleep two people in semi comfort, 7 was pushing it. There were still 7 people on deck who could not fit and they took shelter in a nearby boat which thankfully had a tin roof. It rained all morning. The remaining blankets, the mattresses and pillows covering the deck and most of our bags under became soaked. Since they had not seen rain for 10 years Captain Cool and Fatty were not prepared for it. Captain Cool stayed below and was soon snoring, not a drop hit is face. It was Fatty who tried to save everything and make sure that all had shelter. When the rain stopped we sailed up river a bit and docked for some drying off. All the blankets and mattress were hung in trees along the river and the wind and sun made quick work of it. We calculated the odds of being out in that rain storm were 1 in 3652. Lucky us! The remainder of the trip was calm sailing, and consisted of intellectual conversations, history lessons from Robin, rum drinking and dreaming.

Giza

2008-01-04T14:34:00.000-08:00

"The pyramids are overrated, trash filled and overrun by modernity"

- Peter Maksimow, January 4, 2008

The Pyramids of Giza are the last remaining wonder of the ancient world. You hear about them from a young age, read books and see PBS documentaries about them. Some of us even get to teach about them, the pyramids being one subject that students actually get excited about. Some how in real life, they are just not that great...I hate to say it.

So from down town Talaat Harb Square, the center of Cairo, you take bus 357 to Giza. Tickets run you 2 LE, or 36 cents. The trip takes about 20 min.

So easy! So close! This should have made us worried not excited.
Our vision of the pyramids is that they are dropped down in the vastness of the desert, when in reality due to the need for more housing the city has been silently creeping up. And now BAM! you can get a great view of wonder #7 from the Pizza Hut window.

Yes, they were large. When you walked into the complex and stood with the city to your back, it did seem as though you were lost in the desert. But this vision was soon cut short by some kid, who should be in school in my opinion but that is another story, tries to force you to buy a crappy pyramid statue. Or the antiquity guard who freely tells you he is open to letting you cross the velvet gates and touch the ancient stones, for a price. Or even worse your eyes are not focused on the greatness in front of you, but are distracted by the pyramids of trash forming all around you. Maybe that is how they got built!!!!

The spinx keeping an eye on Cairo

But I digress. Even though they disappointed us on some level, I guess we went to see them simply because they are still there. We went, we saw...took some pictures, said hi to the Spinx and took bus 357 back to the city.

FTM

2007-12-28T13:35:00.000-08:00

The acronym "FTM" came from a journal that we found in at the No Name Hostel in Tallinn, Estonia. A British fellow (name kept anonymous, although there are probably 7 million James' in the world), who had studiously written three entries into his journal before losing it at the hostel, wrote an FTM for each day of entries. One of his FTMs talked of his encouter with large amounts of vodka and a late night and attempting to visit the loo at 5:30 a.m. through a door-sized mirror in the hostel. It seemed to be his advice to others (or to remind himself) NOT to try to walk through mirrors in the early morning hours after drinking too much vodka. So the acronyn could possibly mean For The Masses. Whatever it means, we have kept daily FTM's in memeory of the Brit attmepting to walk through walls and his own reflection, in the form of quotes, epiphanies or complete nonsense.

So, for your own sake, keep updated on the FTM's!

FTM #1: "Thank you for existing!"
-Filipe, saying to himself about the waitress at the French Bar

More FTMs

2007-12-27T14:26:00.000-08:00

Camel illegally parked on the street.
-self explanitory, Hurghada, Egypt, Nov. 23, 2007

Never eat at a place with the word "foul" in the name.
-After eating at a place called Foul Falafel, Nov. 25, 2007

"'gypt" = Egyptian for being cheated out of money
-Nov. 28, 2007

Chew softly when you eat at falafel stand.
-Nora acquired more than the shits, a chipped tooth, after finding a pebble in her falafel, Dec. 9, 2007

"I'll try anything once, with he exception of incest and Morris Dance."
-Paul the Brit, Dec. 12, 2007

"Fly with the Eagles! for tomorrow we shit with the crows."
-Quote from a RUSH flyer, a cheesy club in Dahab, Egypt, Dec. 15, 2007

"Food poisoning is good practice for child birth."
-Peter, on the pain of Nora's food poisioning, Dec. 16, 2007

"Very bold Gato added yogurt and bee honey to the above kick.:
-Description of a drink from Gato Restaurant menu, Dahab, Dec. 18, 2007

3 out of 5 male Egyptians are named Mohammad
-It's true!!!, Dec. 18, 2007

Nora learned a lesson: Don't eat the Turkish coffee grounds.
-"but they are sooo good." -N, Dec. 21, 2007

"Don't try to fart when you are getting over the shits! Seriously!"
-Peter, Dec. 24, 2007

"I had an Egyptian man's fingers in my mouth."
-Terje, after being fed by Omar Master of Sheesha, Dec. 26, 2007

"I gave birth to Omar's baby."
-Terje, the day after being fed by Omar Master of Sheesha, Dec. 27, 2007

Nora: "I'm craving crappy food!"
Peter: Why? You'll just poop it out your butt!"
-Nora on craving crappy food and Peter persuating her it's pointless, Dec. 30, 2007

Egyptians must be immune to headaches.
-On the loud noise in Cairo, Jan. 3, 2008

Beach House

2007-12-26T15:10:00.000-08:00

Downtown Dahab, one of the many restaurants on the "strip"

While in Dahab, we decided to upgrade our housing. We moved out of the three dollar a day hut. The thin foam "mattress" on the concrete slab is really only quaint for a short while. We moved down the strip, our friend Brian called it the 'burbs since it was a good 10 min walk, everything else in Dahab is usually under 5 min. Sunsplash hotel was our new home.

Our beach cabin, the water is 15 meters to the left

It has been updated over the years but two of the original funky cabins are still standing and facing the water. It was a bit pricier, 6 dollars a day...but we had a loft a real mattress, a small table and a mouse who liked to eat my chocolate covered cookies at 3 am.

View of sunsplah hotel from the roof deck, our cabin is to the right of this picture

We fell asleep every night to the wind and the waves and woke every morning to amazing sunrises. It was our first, and possibly, only beach house.

The Night (In Dahab) Before Christmas

2007-12-24T03:18:00.000-08:00

T'was the night before Christmas and all through Dahab,
Not a creature was stirring, not even the mouse Peter caught with his bare hands and set free a half kilometer down the beach and who then came back to eat a package of non-hydrogenated choco biscuits.

The galabia were hung in ElAsalah Village with care,
In hopes that Mohammad soon would be there.
The little Bedouin girls who sold bracelets were nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of rich tourists and their money danced in their heads.

And Nora in her sarong and I in my Mizuno,
had just settled down for long winter snuzo.
When out in the beach there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the mattress on the floor to see what was the matter.

Away from the cabin I flew like a Central Mass Strider,
Tore open the mosquito net and the door besid'er.
The moon on the edge of the Red Sea did behold,
The luster of mid-day to the plastic bottles scattered to and fro.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a pick-up truck taxi and eight mangy goats, my dear!
With a Bedouin driver, O in his fancy horned "Geep,"
I knew in a moment that this ride wouldn't be cheap.
More rapid than camels his promises came,
"Best Prices, Best Fabric!!"
No, dude, they're all the same!

Now Ahmed, now Sala, Peter and Shahla,
On Brian and Josh, on Jason, on Sam and Carmella.
Salam Alaikum, Salam Alaikum, Salam Alaikum to the rest of the crew at Yalla.

Now Riga, now Hamburg, now Buda and Pest.
On to Krakow, to Oslo, to Chamonix and the rest.
To the top of the Baltics, where the snow did fall,
We've seen it, we've done it, we've loved them all!

As dry leaves in Europe did fall to the ground,
We met with Arnuad and Emile and their advice was so sound!
So, up to the atmosphere our backpacks they flew,
"To Egypt!" we said, "Warmth, and pyramids, too!"

And then in a thud I heard on the plywood roof,
The clumsy clunking of camel toe hooves.
As I drew back my Kalashnikov and turned it around,
I was struck by the vision now staring me down!

He was dressed all in Egyptian cotton, from his sandals to his Arafat,
And there was soot on his lips from where his sheesha pipe had sat.
A bundle of memories he soon flung in my face,
And he appeared like a magician when he made me look back on this sojourn and each place.

My eyes how they twinkled! My memories so Merry!
Our new friends are like roses! The adventures sweet as guava!
More exotic than cherry.
Our trip, little in September, was drawn into more,
And exploring Egypt made it worthwhile, we are sure.
We had no set plans to hold tight while we wander,
But relied on new friends and their information of yonder.

We came to Hurghada, shop owners all yellie.
We found the resort town yucky and smelly.
It was Sinai and Dahab our destination or bust,
The snorkeling, the desert, the mountain all a must.

A glimpse of the beach, our small bungalow,
Gave us a calm from our head to our toe.
We spend many a night among our mates so wise,
Laughing and enjoying the world though their eyes.

And laying to rest with the sea as our song we give
Thanks to the many who have dared to come along.
To everyone everywhere.
At home and far from sight,

Merry Holidays!
Happy Solstice!
And to all a goodnight!

Love,
Peter and Nora

Baltic Sea in Latvia

Tallinn, Estonia at night

Boat Ride in Hurghada

Egyptian Red Sea Reefs from the air

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!!

2007-12-17T08:35:00.000-08:00

We hope you have a wonderful birthday!
Here is your present from Egypt (it may take a while to get to you).

Love Peter and Nora

THIS BLOGSITE IS CURRENTLY UNDER STORY TELLING CONSTRUCTION!!!!!!

2007-12-12T04:19:00.000-08:00

So, we are way behind, but it will come....

After our time watching a prostitute bash a man over the head with a chair in Vilnius, Lithuania, hanging out at the French Bar (La Belle Epoch) with a lot of Spaniards and one Brazilian in Riga, Latvia, working at a Hostel with No Name as chefs and cleaners in Tallinn, Estonia, getting great deals on thrift store clothes in Helsinki, Finland and getting sick of the cold weather we found an inexpensive ticket to Hurghada, Egypt. Saw the Suez Canal, and are currently working at a bar as bartenders and making Egyptian wages (don't even ask! enough to cover our $3 a day bungallow on the beach) in Dahab, Sinai. The weather is amazing and the snorkeling and diving in the Red Sea is considered the best in the world.

More adventures and photos to come!

Nora and Peter in El Salam Camp, Dahab, Egypt

Taken from "its not rocket science" Vol 1 Estonia

2007-11-20T05:25:00.000-08:00

"today we trudge through tourists and taxis with black plastic and boxes full of bottles. everyone is staring at the strange girl with the badly mended pants, until we pass over the train tracked class line, and no one is paying attention. we are following the well trod path to the bottle return place. green privacy fence, junkies teetering out front, and old ladies filling the grungy blue shopping baskets with someone else's good time. the junkies, toothless and grinning, remain in their circle rolling cigarettes and getting sideways glances from the other bottle collectors. one guy sits and stands, sits and stands, as we are all lining up, sorting our bounty, sizing up our piles, a little over two kroons for one woman ahead of us. stale beer hovers over the room in a fog of sweat and piss. the sounds of plastic crackling, cans crunching, and bottles clanking together. cutting waves though the stench. waiting."
-Mel '06

Halloween Party

2007-10-31T11:51:00.000-07:00

Pumpkins. Witches. Frenchmen. Pie. Riga Hostel 2007

http://central-hostel.com/Riga%20hostel/Halloween07/album/

nose rings

2007-10-26T13:41:00.000-07:00

What to do on a rainy day in Riga, Latvia?! Get your nose pierced!

Get Ready....

Set...

Pierce....

This is where I tear up...

All Done!

Maksimov

2007-10-13T13:13:00.000-07:00

When we check into the Krakow hostel, we are greeted by Martain, the manager. He takes an immediate notice of Peter's last name. Peter's father was born in Breast which is now part of Belarus but has been controlled by Poland in the past. So their last name Maksimow, or Makismov as it was pronounced by all eastern europeans, got a lot of attention. Martain asked Peter if he knew of the author Vladmir Maksimov. Well Peter had in fact heard of that name, since it is his father's. The two began talking. Peter was excited to have a connection to his roots and Martain was excited that he had found someone so intrested in his love of history. Then next morning Peter got up before me and I went looking for him. I found Martain in the lobby. He asked if he could help me. I said I was looking for Peter. His responce "Oh, Peter Maksimov. Peter Maksimov is on the 4th floor having his breakfast" I felt like I was traveling with royality.

Waiting

2007-10-12T13:02:00.000-07:00

A day was spent walking around the old Jewish Ghetto. This is where the Jewish population of Krakow was forced to before and during WWII. The walls have been taken down, and it now has blended back into the city. You can see the outline of Schindler's factory behind the train bridge as you walk over the river. On our way back to the old town we stopped in the square that would have been the last spot of home many people saw before they were shipped off to a concentration camp. Here in the square there are now empty chairs that represent waiting. Buses pass, rain falls, pizza express has opened across the street, children run down the sidewalk, and the chairs sit waiting.

Ben the Funny Australian

2007-10-12T12:47:00.000-07:00

Said goodbye to b!tch hat Daniel and the Golden Hostel. Ben, Peter and I check into the Krakow Hostel right in the town square and 10 zloty less. The three of us spend the day

bonding over some Pivo in the streets of Krakow.

Ben watching out for the local police

Hiding our drinks in Ben's jacket he got at the second hand store where you buy things according to weight. A Polish woman costs a lot.

Peter is considering trading in the Volvo for this ride.

B!tch Hat Daniel

2007-10-11T11:05:00.000-07:00

A long 15 hour bus ride later we are in Poland. The houses and building we pass though in the early night are missing paint and care. The people look a bit hard, you can tell we have traveled east. This is a different beauty.

We check into the Golden Hostel and meet our Nigerian roommate Daniel. He was laying in bed with all his clothing on under his covers. I think that the weather was not agreeing with him. We invited Daniel out to explore with us as he had not left his bed since he had arrived. As he suited up in his winter gear we realized that he had a black beanie hat with the word BITCH written in bright red on the front. We secretly wondered if he knew what his hat meant. We did not have the heart to tell him...

Out to see the main square. Peter was also dressed up in his winter gear, his tevas with socks, large Norwegian sweater over an argyle purchased at a flea market in Amsterdam, and jeans covered in patches and pins. His outfit was so unique that he was stopped and interviewed and photographed by a fashion website. This site crazylooks.org will be up soon or so we are told. They had a hard time believing he was an American. I am not sure what American are supposed to look like, but I guess we are not it.

Back to the hostel, we meet Ben our other roommate Ben from Australia.

The four of us go out that night to a local brewpub, but not before Ben and Peter remind Daniel "Don't forget your bitch hat". We order the big glass...

The beer is good, the company is funny.

Change of Plan

2007-10-10T10:59:00.000-07:00

2:32 walking to the Euroline office.
-Nora "so Peter the tickets to Prague are 58 euro, right?"
-Peter "yes the bus leaves tonight at 7:00"

2:34 outside of the Euroline office.
-Nora "look there is a sign that says we can go to Krakow for only 56 euro"
-Peter "What a deal! We get more kilometers for our Euro!"

2:36 inside the Euroline ticket office.
-Peter "Two tickets to Krakow please!"

It is amazing how things can change in 4 min...

Beware of the Book Fair

2007-10-09T10:41:00.000-07:00

Frankfurt is home to the largest book fair in the world. We were made aware of this when we woke up and the hostel breakfast was the most amazing spread we have seen in a long time. The Frankfurt Hostel was full up with book fair people as we began to call them, we were told that there were a few more beds available, but the price was twice as much. This did not settle well with us, so we went off to find other accommodation. Well we actually went out to recycle and figure out a plan. We found another hostel where we could stay on a mattress on the floor in a converted conference room for 13.50 euro a night. Sign us up!

The day was spent writing and napping next to the river. The plan for Prague is hatched over a traditional bratwurst and frites lunch at a farmers market. Over the German meat we decided to take the Eruolines bus to Prague then next day since tickets were only 58 euro. Back to the hostel to get our things...or so we think.

We end up talking and making fast friends with a Kiwi, Kiran. One thing leads to another and soon we are having a party in the lobby. We are joined by an San Fransisco girl Tiffany who was celebrating her last night in Europe. We met many friendly folks that night. We had fun guessing which guests checking in were "book fair people". There is a stark difference between the normal backpacker strapped down with all their worldly belongings on their over worked back, usually wearing some hardy shoes and some sort of wool product. Verses the "book fair person" wheelie bag, tweed, cap, glasses...you get the picture. I think that our rowdy group managed to scare a few of the worms though.

We left the Frankfurt Hostel went across the river to our beds on the floor, and dreamt of Prague.

Am Main

2007-10-08T09:51:00.000-07:00

Frankfurt an Main:

We arrived in Frankfurt an Main, with the intention of quickly departing for Prague. We soon found that we could not afford a the train tickets. In fact we could not afford ANY train ticket ANYWHERE in Germany, ANYWHERE near Germany or ANYWHERE with a German sounding name. So we went to the one place that near the train station we could afford; The Frankfurt Hostel. Off to explore!

Per usual we were embarking on a new city that we knew nothing about. We came upon the world headquarters of the Euro, We were a bit sad they were not handing out free Euro souvenirs outside. Walking from there we entered the Römer square, built in 1405. We began to be thankful that we could not afford the train, there was so much to see in Frankfurt. We crossed over the Main River along one of the many bridges. The sun was shining. Into an old medieval section of town that has been converted into bars...we are in Germany remember. These amazing buildings have been preserved and are now serving good times to a whole new generation. They just made smoking illegal inside, this bar has a creative solution to how to make it's ashtray money back. We enjoyed the day, the sun, the river, the tallest building in the European union, some good beer, recycling and getting the deposit back! (Germany reuses its beer bottles). We walked for hours. There is such a contrast in this city, you can walk down one street and see some ladies practicing the worlds oldest profession. Two streets down you will find some beggars and drunks, next to that is the Gucci store and a shopping street that looks like 5th ave. You can tell there is money and modern commerce happening a stones throw away from 500 year old buildings.

The land of milch and honning

2007-10-06T08:12:00.000-07:00

Christer was kind enough to save us the 5k, $16 bus ride into town and took us in his mothers car. We were surprised again by Tejere, Alec and Christer's kindness as they gave us a parting gift filled with memories of our time with them.

We flew from Oslo Torp (120 k outside of Oslo) to Frankfurt Hahn (110 k east of Frankfurt). I believe that it should be called Luxembourg Hahn because that is how far east it is. Our flight arrived at midnight and we were without a bed to sleep in. Thank god for the free market system for there was a HUGE sign for the Advance Hotel. 45 euro a night for two, free Internet, use of sauna, free airport pickup AND a toll free phone number. A toll free phone number is unheard of here in Europe. We call and 15 min later Andreas comes with the black Advance Hotel mini van. We are driven though the night to a small town called Büchenbeuren, 3.1 km from the airport. We went to sleep happy in this quiet town in our beds on Hauptstrasse 35. The next morning we opened the shades and were treated to an amazing view of the German countryside. Green rolling hills, apple orchards and farmers working in their fields. This quickly helped us decide to stay in Buchenbeuren for a few more days.

Peter was particularly excited when we found out that the only store in town was the supermarket this would give us a constant supply of German brew, though not on Sundays since the country seems to shut down on the lord's day. This made our stay complete, we now have all we need, though the hotel workers could not understand why we wanted to stay and kept trying to get us to take the bus to Frankfurt. They were not aware of Peter's quest to taste some of the best beer that Germany has to offer. The small market did not disappoint and not only did all the beer adhere to the Reinheitsgebot law, or German Beer Purity law (originally enacted in 1516), which permits only four ingredients in the beverage: water, hops, barley, and yeast, it was also super cheap! Let the tasting commence.

We did not drink all day as the previous paragraph may allude to. We walked through the countryside, found some blackberries for desert. Watched a wedding procession, saw the farmers hard at work and enjoyed some good German cookies. Perfection.

We spent most of the day enjoying the sun and the view seated on the edge of this field. We fell in love with Buchenburen and all it had to offer. You often don't need modern buildings, tourist attractions and souvenir shops to be magical. Peter went for a run that night. When he came home he announced that he was inspired by this place. He felt like he could run forever, something that his body has not allowed him to do in sometime. We celebrated with a good meal, desert of blackberries with cream, and a sauna.

Revenge of the Bulega

2007-10-05T08:12:00.000-07:00

Sickness the next day...REVENGE OF THE BELUGA!!!!

What's for dinner?

2007-10-04T02:46:00.000-07:00

As most of you know I don't eat red meat. When this is first explained to someone I will get the inevitable response "Well do you eat pork since it is the other white meat?". Annoying. So I have been editing my response to my dietary choice as "I don't eat mammals" or "I eat things with three legs or less" since chickens, turkeys have 2 legs and fish and tofu come in at 0 legs(though I have not yet made a ruling on 3 legged cats and such).
In Norway, at the Rimi 1000, I was faced with a conundrum; Whale. Or as it will now be referred to, Beluga. We were assured by our Norwegian friends that this beluga in the freezer section was not the happy beluga we donated our pennies to in school during "save the whale" campaigns. So the dilemma I faced was not one related to Greenpeace, I simply did not know if I ate whale! It is a mammal, but it falls into the no legged sea creature category...Well when in Norway...

Tejre, Peter, Christer, Alec

We had a feast our last night in town. We were joined by Christer, another fine Norseman who only solidifed our love for the people here. He is a kind and curious soul who loved to share stories and ideas with us. One of the main courses was the aforementioned Beluga. I can say that it does not taste like chicken or warm apple pie. It was more like a very tough red meat with a fishy aftertaste. I would not want it everyday, but I am glad that we tried it at least.

aperteif

We also tasted some fine Laphoriag Scotch which had a peaty smoky taste. An excellent choice for those of you interested. The digestion was aided by a fine Cuban cigar,

Turkish pebber shots,

and lots of laughter that lasted long into the cold night.

Oslo

2007-10-02T07:09:00.000-07:00

All together we spent 5 days in Oslo with Terje and Alec. The condo was up against a large forest with many kilometers of muddy trails with lots of prickers, but not poison ivy as was my first reaction to the rednss.
running
The woods were also home to ancient Norse Viking burial mounds. I, myself, am a Packers fan, but found them awing none the less. We ran often in the woods along the trails used by those ancient men. The locals thought us to be a bit crazy with scraped up legs, muddy shorts and smiling red faces. burrial ground
One of the beautiful things about couch surfing is that you get to see how life really is in a country. The small everyday things that you miss while meeting Australians and Canadians in hostel common rooms. The one touristy thing we did was to visit the sculpture park. We went with our host Terje as he decided to skip classes once again and spend the day with us. Tejre and Nora skipping class
The sculpture park was commissioned by the city of Oslo in hopes the perfect park would be created. The artist, Gustav Vigeland, was told that his budget was endless, and he could have as much time as he wished. He took 40 years of his life to create the plans for this park. Each bridge, tree planted, sculpture, and fountain was of his design. He never got to see his work come to fruition in that he died before it all came off his paper and into reality. Walking though the trees and fields is like being in a museum. It was as intricate as a puzzle and I wondered if there were secrete messages hidden in the carvings and sculptures. Sitting in the sun by the fountain does make you think of the message the artist was trying to convey, the journey of life. Fountain by Gustav Vigeland
We did in fact also go into a museum but that was only so that Peter could use the bathroom. That was our time being a tourist in Oslo.
Terje is a creative soul who is constantly looking for a new opportunity to create something. To do this he is need of a constant supply of art supplies. He finds most of them at the Salvation Army. He mentioned our first day there that he may be taking a trip to this store at some point. I am guessing that at the delight that lit up in our eyes at this prospect, Terje felt that he had come across two kindred spirits. It seems that since people in Norway are so well off they donate extremely nice things to the poor, like us!. We went to two stores all together. We purchased two hand made Scandinavian sweaters for 15 usd each. We had almost bought one in town the day before that was more than twice as much and less than twice the quality. All together we found some amazing, non touristy items, glassware, pewter, plates, and warm clothing that will last us into the future. We vowed that after this we would be on the look out for other second hand stores in future countries.
Some of the other non touristy things we experienced in Oslo via Tejre and Alec:
-Going to the recycling center. Norway is years ahead of the US, well most of the world is, in this respect. We were happy to be around so many green minded folks.
-Going to the supermarket Rimi 1000 and trying to find the cheapest things. Surprisingly this was not eggs as they were $5.00 for a dozen. But cabbage and orange juice were not too bad.
-Being a secrete shopper with Tejre. He gets paid to shop at gas stations and rate their service and sandwich making abilities. He used to work for McDonald's but he gave too many good ratings and he got taken off that account.
-Learning all about life in the Norwegian army. They have compulsory military service. Alec used to be a royal palace guard. We quickly learned this is not glamours, it is quite boring.
-Going on a beer run that turned into a mission of stealing apples from peoples yards. A game that Tejre had not played since he was a young lad.
-Trying to learn Norwegian by watching American television with Norwegian subtitles. Many young people in Norway have an amazing grasp of the English language, this may be a reason why. It is sad that we pump all our trashy television to the world.
-Sharing books and our love of them. I was able to read two books while curled up on the Ikea monsters.
-Going to Max Bo, a home depotesque store, to eat free pancakes with jam, blue raspberry slushies, and take free samples of wall paper.

Museums are great. to pee in.

Baluga the Magical (and excited) Dolphin from Oslo

2007-09-30T09:28:00.000-07:00

Ryan air is a budget airline in Europe that has extremely inexpensive flights. We found a cheap flight to Oslo, Norway and booked it without question. We soon learned that Oslo is one of the most, if not THE most expensive places, in Europe, not to mention the world. After some investigation we found that the cheapest hostel beds were $40 per person (the usual price is 13ish). To save budvars, duckets, chochkeys, or NOKs as they are called in Os, we signed up for a movement called courchsurfing.com. Couchsurfing is a phenomenon where kind souls allow backpackers and travelers to crash on their couches au gratis. Sounds a bit sketchy at first but in reality it really is an amazing network. We received a reply from a local Scandinavian, Terje Lingaas, a journalist student and fellow wandering soul. He told us we could crash on his plain, comfy, white IKEA monsters the first night and then the last two nights of our 5 night stay.

Off we went to Oslo. But actually we landed in Torp, 120K outside of Oslo, that's what you get for a € 0.01 flight. A dirty trick, as you have to pay your life savings to take a bus to get into the city of Oslo. We quickly found out how expensive Oslo was as it took $8USD EACH to ride the local bus the 15 Kilometers to Terje's apartment. This was only 3 stops outside of the Oslo city limits. I was missing the MBTA, even with their fare hike.

Terje's Apartment + Not bad for a student, ehhh!?

After spending 40 times more to take a bus to Oslo than the flight we just took to get there, we got off at a dark bus stop and waited for no longer than 30 seconds before a tall dark figure come around the corner and waves to us. "Hey, you must be Terje!" I said. "Well, close enough," he responded. His name is pronounced Tee-ara, who knew!? He took us to his 5th floor loft apartment, an immaculately decorated place where the "IKEA is slowly being fazed out", according to Terje. The Salvation Army thrift store was the new decor designer of choice. We talked for 2 hour and became good friends instantly.

Terje's roommated, Alek, arrived home from work at the "old folks home" and sat and talked with us for another couple of hours. "I work at the old folks home. How do you say it in English?" That's exactly how you say it in English, I replied!

A little tired from our long days journey and hours of talking, we made our bed....or couches, rather. The comfy white IKEA monsters!

The next day.....

Terje told us a story about a rather embarrassing incident that took place in the Fjord of Oslo:
Once upon a time (a couple of years ago), an unidentified Norwegian man spotted a frolicking porpoise in the Oslo Fjord and decided to be friendly and join HIM for a swim. The innocent swimmer learns that the porpoise is a HIM when he becomes starry eyed and hearts begin to erupt from his head (see diagram). The happy porpoise gets excited from the man's petting and becomes erect. The porpoise's erection becomes lodged in the unwilling swimmers shorts (what are the odds of that happening!?) and is dragged down underwater to his near drowning. Luckily the man was able to get his shorts off before he met his death and swim, naked, gasping and violated, to shore. The man's name was published in the local newspaper and the following diagram was created to show eager minds what had taken place between the unaware swimmer and the sexual offending porpoise. WARNING: Explicit cartoon rendering!

Forsøkt voldtatt av kjærlig delfin
"Dolphins are considered to be amongst the most intelligent of animals and their often friendly appearance and seemingly playful attitude have made them popular in human culture." - Cited from Wikipedia, a reliable source, but not in this case!

"Its beautiful in its simplicity...works in any language."
-Terje Lingaas

Scheiße (Schizer) happens in a room, on Hamburger St, in Hamburg

2007-09-28T14:25:00.000-07:00

Hamburg, Germany.
We may be some of the only backpackers who are traveling around sans a "lonely planetesque" book, so when we show up in a new city our background information on aforementioned city is limited. This was the case when we arrived late at night in Hamburg. As we walked to the closest hostel we were shocked at how dead the town was for a Friday night. The first hostel informed us that they and every hostel in town was booked solid for the whole weekend. Two young Australians who had arrived just before us were getting back on the train to Berlin, but they directed us to two other travelers who had information on a place to stay. We were directed to a hotel above a strip club, but were assured that we should not be afraid. Off we went and a few lefts and rights later we found Reeperbahn. To look for the one hotel above a strip club would be impossible, for there were strip clubs as far as the eye could, even if it didn´t want to, could see. Every other bar was a bar/hotel. Some of which you could rent by the hour, one which was aptly named "one night stand". Peter thought staying there would be a good way to save some money if we only sleep for 7 hours. This plan was quickly squashed. We booked a room in a hotel behind the bar of this smoky little place where EVERY time we left the same people were drinking (1 am, 5 pm, noon when ever}. Out to explore the town. One could write a book on all you can see on Reeperbahn St in the St. Pauli section of town. So you will get the cliff note version.
-Everyone in town goes out here, young and old.
-People drink and are drunk for 24 hours a day. Sometimes when you are out at 10 am you have to step over men and women passed out in the street in their own vomit.
-Hookers are everywhere. They all wear the same thing: Big puffy pastel colored jacket, tight jeans with no ass pockets, a fanny pack for money, white platform sneakers, and their hair pulled back into a tight pony tail. If a man is outside by himself they will link arms with them as they walk by, as they did to Peter more thank once.
-Strip clubs galore. But while the Germans are liberal with the sex trade, they are not so open to the sexes mixing in the clubs. No women aloud, there are even streets that women can´t go down.
-Drinking out in public is legal here and EVERYONE partakes in this; young, old, preppy, professional, goth, Nora and Peter, English tourists in their 50s, students. EVERYONE 24 hours a day rain or shine.
-While the worst debauchery happens on the streets, don`t try to pee in a dark alley. Peter did this, he thought the location was fine since there was a local man doing the same. The German police officer did not agree with this logic. He began to reprimand the two boys, but the German pissor would not have it as he started to argue loudly and passionately with the cop and disgustedly threw his cigarette down to the ground and stormed off. Here is what we translated his argument to be: "Put some damn public toilets in if you don´t want people pissing on the streets, schiezer!!!! Peter just stood there acting innocent. The cop in a very unamerican way just told the boys, "No pissor" to piss some where else.
-We watched a parade of young Germans singing to Beastie Boys "Fight for your Right to Party" blaring from a van. This parade was lead by two happy cops talking and smiling with the local revelers.
-Sauerkraut is really good and extremely cheap here....and comes in bags!
-Zee Germans sell shirts that say "Don`t Hassle the Hoff."
-When German people step in dog poop they actually yell "Scheiße!!!!" Really, we saw it with our own eyes and almost Scheißed our pants with laugher!
-Hamburg is beautiful outside of this one section of town. A port city with fascinating architecture and an international feel.
-This city shows you the best and the worst of human society. It makes you understand drinking laws and regulations. It shows you how all people from all walks of life can happily coexist.
-Seeing a bum with 5 teeth in his mouth open a bottle of beer with his strategically placed opposing teeth is both shocking and awing at the same time. It would be a great party trick, but it was his survival technique.
-Sleeping on Hamburger Street in Hamburg in a hotel attached to a smoky bar is not that bad, as long as you have ear plugs!

HUNGARY for some more!?

2007-09-27T00:47:00.000-07:00

When I am tired,
I sleep fetal style,
Being awoken numerous times during the night,
does not make Peter smile {: (

That's a little ditty I wrote aboot when I am tired. Nora says I curl up like a baby in middle of the bed, like a cat....a tired cat....without the fur....although I did look a little scruffy now.

I conversed with a very friendly Aussie bloke (Americanically named Dallas) about life and lifestyle. I'm sorry Dallas, Austin is a much better city (but it is still in Texass). We were very much on the same page with the topic of enjoying life and not being a slave to work, or the "Dallas" Man. Nora's grandfather, a brilliant man in my opinion, was once quoted, "Any fool can get up in the morning and work."

Homemade hostel

So the day began by departing the quaint Home Made Hostel and taking the metro to Nepliget station, where one would catch the international bus back to Bratislava....if one could figure out from where the bus departed!!!! "Left by the planetarium" we were told. What kind of bus company uses an unmarked parking lot in front of a Planetarium!? I guess all of them in Hungary, never mind, I answered my own question. After walking length of the Central Park-sized common looking for the bus, we took the metro back to see if we would catch a train to Bratislava. A lot of run around we finally headed off to the main train station (ironically next to the train tracks!) and as we were exiting the metro were stopped by ticket enforcers who demanded to see our tickets. Here is how the train system works in Budapest: you buy a tickets and every transfer you make, you must buy an additional ticket. However, there are no ticket kiosks where you transfer. Thus, trickery!

"You must pay fine" the lady with the little black book told us. "5,000 Forints." Telling her there were no ticket kiosks to buy new tickets was no use. We had to catch a train in 15 minutes so to get away we had to pay the fine, but one problem, we didn't have 5,000 Forints (don't worry, it is really not that much money, don't let the zeros fool you!). Nora was taken away while I was told to stay there. She was frightened because she didn't know where they were taking her, maybe to the Hungarian slammer, or a torture chamber? I don't think they cane in Hungary, do they?! The destination was the ATM....

Train not Bus

....now we were running to catch the train back to Bratislava. Nora went to buy tickets for the soon-to-depart train. "Forget about the tickets, let's just jump on the train" I told Nora. One would assume you could buy tickets on the train, right? It was like a scene from Gone With the Wind, the train pulling away as we are running to get aboard. I don't really know if there in a scene like that in the movie, but you get the gist. Dramatic, just like the beginning of our day had been thus far...and would continue to be. I asked the conductor if we could buy tickets after the train was moving and he told me "no problem." Relieved after the frustration of terrible signage and hidden international bus stations ("station" is a loose term in Hungary.
That is, until the conductor tried to sell us tickets. The tickets would be more expensive on the train, that was to be expected, but he went into a explanation in Hungarian which we were not able to understand. Two tickets came out to 58 euros. I paid the remainder of the Forints I had left and the rest in Euros. He kept telling me that it was "business". Over the euro bill be kept making the universal sign for half by trying to cut the bill in two. Do we need to give him more money? Does he think that the bill is fake? We are unsure.

What passes as we bribe the conductor As most conductors do, he asks us where we are from, we explain we are from the US an get ready to show him our passports since it is an international train. No need. Once he find out that we are American, the "business" becomes more frequent. He takes our euro bill and signals to us that he will be right back. When he returns to our cabin he gives us the half of the 50 euro bill not from his train money belt but from his own personal wallet that he went to fetch. He then pockets our money. At this point the meaning of "business" becomes a bit clearer to us. When we inquire about where our actual tickets are he says "No. Business" and in very broken English says that he is the Hungarian conductor and he will talk to the Slovakian conductor about our "business". We just paid off a Hungarian and it was sealed with a handshake. We were a bit tense the rest of the ride, since once you cross an international boarder there is a new conductor that boards the train and asks to see your tickets. We were not sure how to explain our lack of tickets and the "business" to the new authorities. As it all turns out we were asked to see only our passports to the Slovakian conductor and passport control officer.

This is how business is run.....in Hungary!

It was like a day at Disneyland, fun-filled and action-packed, like a Chuck Norris movie (by they way, Chuck Norris is very popular in Eastern Europe, we have seen him spray painted on the wall and his movies all over the sub-titled TVs!). And the day had not even ended yet.

We waited impatiently for the bus to the airport and knew we were cutting it short. It took a very, very long 30 minutes to the Bratislava airport. The flight had closed, as we rationally deduced, but didn't really believe. "You can pay 75 euros to take the next flight" the unhelpful Ryan Air lady said to us after she was done playing on her cell phone. Screw that, we didn't pay that much for the original flights combined! "Thanks, we'll take the train." I replied. So, back on the crappy bus we went into town. We stayed in the Possonium Hostel (remember, where the movie hostel took place), met an American from San Francisco, and played with the enormous, snorey hostel bull dog who was recovering from an illness.

A run through the historic town and some piwos ended our action-packed-like-a-Chuck-Norris-movie day.

Turkish Baths are steamy!

2007-09-26T00:11:00.000-07:00

Turkish Baths are steamy! With the baths being a staple and communal meeting point of the city, we had to go and take a dip...and heat, ice, steam and sauna ourselves to have a real Hungarian experience. The entrance fee to the main bath in the central park was about 2,200 forints (roughly 9 euros) and if you leave within two hours, you get 400 back, after four hours, 200 back and so on. After changing in the locker rooms with curtains as doors and a friendly Hungarian chamberman who locks your belonging up for you, gives you a tag different to your locker number and says "remember locker number!", we walked into the rooms of various temperatured pools containing many different mineral contents, water clarity and big burly Buda men in speedos. They didn't even need the speedos, their hairy bellies covered everything anyways. Not to be neglected were the rotund Pest babushka women. It was difficult to tell whether the some of the pools were murky because of the strange characters in them or because of the strange sulfur smelling minerals. When in Hungary......do as the Hungarians do and disregard the strange smells and murky waters.

So, we must have visited at least 10 different types of baths, ranging from -16 Celsius to +38 Celsius (Arctic cold and scorching hot for you Americans who only know Fahrenheit--like being on the moon and the sun!), rubbed ourselves wit ice shavings, beared the packed sauna and sweat our weight in liquid, showered by the outdoor fountain pool, steamed the sweat we lost back into our bodies in the steam room, propelled by the jets in the whirlpools, and made our skin glow with youthfulness. It was like the Waterworld of Disneyland without Kevin and Walt. The main outdoor pools were used as meeting points for business men to talk and play chess (yes, also in the pool was a chess board). A novel idea, these Baths were. Nora and I couldn't understand why they had no caught on in the States, or why it costs an arm and a leg to go to a "Day Spa" in the US while even the poorest people are visiting the Baths in Budapest.

The extreme temperatures of the baths left us drained, exfoliated and rejuvenated. We even received 200 forints back for leaving!!! A high recommendation if you are ever in a Turkish influenced place.

Mind the big, hairy, burly men in Speedos.

I SURVIVED BRATISLAVA!!!!....but not Budapest

2007-09-22T23:19:00.000-07:00

Big Plazas and

small cakes.















Milano to Bratislava.

We arrived in Milan and waited nervously for the bus to leave
for the airport. We did not have very much time to make the
flight and the airport was about 30 min. outside of the city.
While waiting we watched a incident/fight/confrontation/deal
gone bad between an mid-twenties Italian and a Irish bloke.
While they were speaking English it was difficult to understand
what the problem was--it was sort of like
watching a soap opera, drama-filled, especially the Italian
("Noooa, don'ta goa, we cana work-it-outa!).
The Irish guy wanted to get on the bus and to the airport, but it
seemed that he owed the Italian some money or that he had taken
something from him. The best I could figure out was that it was a
"Medi Controller"? I have no idea what this is, maybe some device for
PlayStation 14 or something? Things started to get tense as the
Italian was coming on the bus to try to stop the Irish guy from
leaving. An older Italian gentleman on the bus told the bus driver
to call the Caribinary, he appeared oblivious to the situation.
The Irish bloke's friend appeared and they both ran on the bus,
followed by the passionate Italian. The Italian continued trying to
get them off the bus and saying he was going to follow them to the
airport and stop their flight from taking off. The Irishmen seemed
to be wetting their knickers while the Italian seemed to enjoy the
passionate interaction. To make a somewhat long story short, it was
an episode of As the World Turns with an international twist.
We were the last people to check in for our flight. "FLIGHT CLOSED"
the flight Nazi yelled, however, I think the Dolce&Gabbana fashion
Slovakian (you can picture it, can't you!) was able to get on after
putting on some sad faces. As we went though security they stopped
Peter and questioned him about his three Belgian beers. No
liquid! They also took the nutella and the corkscrew. Peter was
very upset they took the bier, as they were a prized treasure of
Belgium and he was just supporting the national past time. It still
hurts him to think of the security guards, drinking his beer and
eating nutella on toast.

















View de Italia

We arrived in Bratislava and got mugged!!! No, just kidding, that
would have been a good story though!  We were
happy to see the Slovaks were going GREEN as it was "a day without
cars" and all public transportation was free! Free transportation
is awesome, especially when you do it legally and don't have to
pay big fines for getting caught without a ticket (that story to
come). We ran into two Aussies, Kathy and her son Matthew, who
missed their flight and had to find accommodations for the night.
The 4 of us walked around Bradislava to find a hostel. There were
only 2 beds left at the Possonium hostel, (where the slasher film
HoStEl took place, oooohhh!) and as we were leaving 4 Northern
Englanders came over to us and said they had reservations but they
were trying to get to Budapest that night and were pretty sure
they would not be staying. We waited around for the final decision
and the boys decided they were off to Hungary, so we had secured a
place to rest our heads.

After a day of travel, we wanted to move so we went for a late night run.
Ran around the city in 56 min and sadly enough really saw everything
there was to see in Bratislava in those 56 min.
The next morning we decided to give it one more shot and were not
impressed. But we were amused by the constant onslaught of American
music. As we were shopping among the traditional canned meat and
fish products we were humming to "that's the way love, goes...
it goes...it goes...it goes". We, too, decided to go and on the
advice of the Northerners and took the late night train to
Budapest, Hungary.

Erzsébet híd (Elisabeth Bridge)

















Pest.
We arrived late Monday night to the Pest side. After all the history
classes I have sat through and taught, I am a bit embarrassed to admit
that I did not know that Budapest is made up of two sections. The
Hills of Buda and the modern city side, Pest. We had made reservations
at the Unity hostel, because they had beds for 10 euro and that is so
in the budget. We easily found the street the hostel was on but
turned right and not left. On the right side there are many bars that
host the "ladies of the night". I was beginning to rethink 10 euro
a night deal. Not Peter, though! Ladies of the night and 10 euros
a night, what a combination! When we readjusted our compasses we
found ourselves in the correct area, where we discovered a lovely hostel
in an old weathered eastern European building (On a side note if you
are ever in Budapest you should stay at the Unity Hostel, it was
amazing and the people who work there and own it could not have
been better). It was late so we decided to sleep and explore in
the morning. We loved Budapest! It is a beautiful city with amazing
character. We walked around in the morning, got some gourmet
finger sandwiches of caviar, salmon, egg and Greek salad. Things in
the city were so inexpensive that we were living like a king
and queen. Peter found an shop off the main street that sold
accouterments from small villages around Hungary. The owner of the
store would go to these small villages and buy things like old wool
jackets, communist army medals, family antiques from people's attics.
We felt like we were back in time looking at all these old relics
and wondering at what price they were able to part with their
keepsakes and family heirlooms. Over homemade cakes and
cappuccino we decided that one day was not going to enough to
explore the Buda and the Pest. We went back to the Unity got a
room for another night and then changed our flight to Thursday. We
got some peppers in paprika, the traditional spice in Hungary, and
made some yummy pizzas for dinner.
We chatted it up with our Canadian roommates, the ever-talkative
Brandon and Eric. As the night went on we enjoyed the company of
Huw and Ben from England. Laura, another Canadian from Saskatchewan,
and Ken from the good 'ol USA (aka. The States, America, that Big
Place that controls everything). We all enjoyed the night,
comparing trips and home countries. Peter, Brandon, Eric, and
Laura ventured to the 0-24 store to get more pivo. They walked
the wrong way and ended up going on a pivo chase. 0-24 is an
interesting concept, not 24 hours, but 0-24. The universal would
be "Never Closes".

...through the looking glass of a leather tote

The hills of Buda.
Tuesday, September 25th. Walked around the city more. Over the
Danube to the Hills of Buda. We went up into the park around the
citadel and enjoyed a picnic in the grass. The view from the hills of the
river, the castle district and the city itself was worth the hike
up. We went back to the small shop and purchased more things,
Moscow Olympic pins, Communist medals and boxes. I love what we got,
but part of me wonders where it came from and if it was come about
in honest ways. I do like that we did not shop at a tourist spot
though. We were found ourselves Hungry in Hungry and wanted to find
some traditional Hungary food. We located Csulok Csardo or Pig's
Foot in English. A small restaurant down stairs. It was dark,
smoky, it was full of long wooden tables and benches, one fat
man behind the bar who took your order and brought your food.
It was perfect. Peter decided to go the very traditional route and
ordered the Goulash. I had the chicken and in mushroom sauce. We
also ordered a plate of homemade pickles. The meat in the Goulash
was so tender that Peter cut it with a spoon. And the mushroom
sauce was to die for. I am pretty sure there was entire stick of
butter in that bad boy but I licked my plate clean. Butter be dammed.
I am a pretty huge fan of picked anything but these were the best ever.
While I love the picnics in the park and will never tire of bread and
cheese, there is something nice about treating yourself to some
traditional food. Our stomachs were somewhat full after that large
meal so again we did the Hungarian thing. Got some Unicum, a
liqueur made of herbs that is good for digestion and enjoyed it
on the walk home.

Terror.
Wednesday. We were unable to stay at Unity hostel, but they booked
us down the street at Homemade Hostel. A very cool and funky place,
that is decorated in non-traditional ways. Suitcases for book shelves,
etc. Again we tried to be responsible and purchased some bus tickets
back to Bratislava for the morning since we had to get a flight to
Bremen. We have not yet been to a museum where you had to pay
admission but we decided to break that streak for the Terror Museum.
It is housed in the former Nazi headquarters in Budapest. When you walk
in the first thing you see elevated to eye level is a huge tank
sitting in a pool of motor oil. The oil is dripping down and off the
platform into the basement. You are stuck at how similar it is to
blood. The museum is dedicated to the "dark" part of Hungarian
history under the Nazi's and then the rule of the secret police.
The museum on a whole was the most disturbingly creative place we
have ever seen. You start on the top floor and are attacked by angry,
loud German metal music. You listen to this while viewing images of
survivors speaking, bodies being loaded into mass graves
and children saluting Hitler. You make your way through offices and
rooms of leaders. In the basement you see the cells and the torture
rooms. This part of the building had to be recreated from the
memories of survivors since the original was destroyed in an attempt
to cover up what happened here.
Overall a very powerful Experience.

It is the journey that counts not the destination

2007-09-22T10:36:00.000-07:00

We wake up in Annecy. At breakfast John, who had been so vibrant the night before, walks in places down a plastic bag off food in front of me and says the only words of the day, "this is for you". I imagine that while he was not much inspired by the French countryside he is inspired by alcohol and was now SUPER hungover. But I love free food so I am not going to complain. We make it to the train station with no time to actually buy tickets to Milan so in desperation we board the train and hope that the French conductors will take pity on us. They do and are in fact very helpful. However they can only sell us tickets to border and we need to get tickets again at the first Italian station.
When the train pulls into the Italian station there is really not a lot of time to get tickets. We again board the train with out actually paying for it. Right before this I ask the conductor who's name seems to be PL592, if we can buy tickets on the train. He tells us to get them from the bar. No problem PL592.
As the train is chugging down the tracks there seems to be a problem. When I attempt to get the tickets I am told they are "finished". I am not totally sure what this means, but I have a general idea. This is the point of the trip that I perfected the "Help!" look. A very kind Italian man sitting at the bar told me that there were no tickets left for this train. I was not sure what to do with this information since, we were on the moving train. He then proceeded to tell me that he did not think that it was too much of problem because if it was then the police would have already kicked us off. Oh.
So it was PL592 to the rescue. He came over sold us some tickets, even though they were finished. He even pretended that we got on at a stop an hour down the line and gave us a discounted price.
The very kind Italian man who spoke English, along with 4 other languages, and who was enjoying a drink with his friend told us all of this. He and his friend had come down from the Mountains, where they are building chalets for tourists, to do some shopping in town. His friend who did not speak English was excited to show us some of this shopping and pulled out a huge, some what bloody, steak from his backpack and seemed very proud of his purchase. They decided to buy us some drinks and we take up them on their offer. In talking with them we learn the traditional recipe for Genepi. You take 40 flowers, make sure they are the large male ones, combine them with 40 sugar cubes, let it sit for 40 days and then you drink it! We were enjoying our time with them and were sad to see them go. We never even got their names.
They were soon replaced by a young Australian girl and her father. They were on family holiday from Melbourne, she was happy to be missing school. The teacher part of me took over and we all chatted about school. She was a very well spoken young girl and her father was fine company as well. One of the best things about traveling is talking to others. Where else could I have talked to these two very different groups of people in the span on 2 hours. The only thing we all have in common is that we managed to obtain tickets on a train that was "finished."

Benji the drunken Frenchman

2007-09-20T08:54:00.000-07:00

Annecy, France, 20-9 to 22-9.
Though we love Chamonix and Rickey dearly we decided to explore more of the French countryside. After an amazing brunch of leftover curry combined with eggs (between Peter, myself, Rickey, Simon and Kathy we ate a grand total of 35 eggs, one was broken when we bought it so we did not complete the 36 as planned) and a day filled with relaxing, window shopping, running and writing we boarded a train to Annecy, France. I thought that I would be clever and look up where the hostel in Annecy was BEFORE we went to avoid the aimless wandering a la Brussels. We arrived late in Annecy, but fear not I have directions to the hostel!
up
up
Up the hill we walked, sweaty sweaty sweaty we became. On the way up up up we came across large groups of young people going into town. Good sign, I thought, the hostel must be up ahead. I soon found out that that it was a BAD sign because the large groups going to town were nothing to compared to the enormous group of high school aged children running all around the hostel. The two tour buses parked in the lot were also bad omens. The was no room at the inn and as luck would have it, this was the only hostel in town. The man at the desk gave us a map and some circled areas where we might find some inexpensive beds.
Down,
Down,
Down the hill we went. I must admit that at this point I was a bit frustrated and tears did happen. Peter, on advice of some of my Beaver friends, decided the best solution was to break out a beer called Adelscott. It is the BRILLIANT combination of beer and whisky. On a side note I have no idea why this is not happening in the US.
So we ask at many a hotel and they are all far beyond our budget. We see ahead of us some French youth who have indulged too much in the vin pulling large sheets of cardboard out of the trash and beating each other with it. I am none too keen on walking by them, but it can't be avoided. As we approach all but one enter an apartment building. The one left behind comes over and asks us a question in French. We kindly explain to him that we don't speak French. This seems to anger him.
"Oh I don't speak French!!!! Well all I asked for was a light!!!"
We then told him that we don't smoke. Again this seemed to cause him to get upset.
"Oh!!!! I don't smoke"
At first he seemed very in our faces. I, who have never been in a fight, wondered if this is what happens before a French man starts to hit you with huge sections of cardboard. He was spouting that maybe we think we are better than him? Maybe we think that we don't need to learn other languages? etc.
Over the whole course of our interaction with Benji we convince him that while we are in fact Americans, we don't hate French people or the French language. We just were never taught how to speak French and there is nothing wrong with the language. He was trying very hard to not just come out and say that he hates Americans because I think we confused the stereotype a bit buy not being rude to him. In the end he was just drunk and wanted to debate and not beat us with boxes.
Finally we come across the Alexandria. They offer us the price of 50 euro. We must not have looked too happy at this because they quickly told us that this price includes a shower and a tv in the room. Peter explains to them that we don't watch tv and can we get a room with out one for less? They must have found this amusing because they gave us the room for 45 euro.

The morning was much brighter. Annecy is often called to Venice of the north and it very much lived up to this name. We ran in the morning along the lake and Peter reminisced being there with his father a few years ago. We both agreed that a long the lake it looked very much like Lake Tahoe. We were just in Tahoe visiting my brother Eamon so we do have a right to make that comparison.
We enjoyed a very French morning of picnicking along the canals. Enjoying fresh croissants and treats still warm from the Le Delilce Royal (not to be confused with a royal with cheese). We were sitting near a large group of parked motorcycles. About 5 min before the noon church bells began to sing out we noticed that all the drivers of these bikes began to appear and start them up. We then noticed they were all the same bike. In talking to one of the drivers we learned they were all English bike shop owners who had been flown down to Italy to pick up the new model and then drive it back to England. Not a bad deal if you ask me.
We knew that we had to get to Milan tomorrow to get our flight to Slovakia, and went to the train station to do some investigating. We knew that there was a bus from Chamonix to Milan that left the next morning @ 9:30 and this would get us to Milan with plenty of time to get the flight. It was also much less money than the train. So we looked up when the trains left that night to Chamonix. Great there is one that leaves at 7:57!!! We can go back to the skiers refuge in Chamonix to spend the night and then catch the bus in the morning. (now I will award 50 bonus points to the first person who can see the FATAL error we are making here)
Off to enjoy a nice day on the banks of Lake Annecy, eating some more stinky cheese, sipping some vin, enjoying the sun and the company. The sun goes down.
Time to catch the 7:57 train to Chamonix. Go to get tickets. FATAL ERROR REALIZED HERE. Europe uses military time...(who gets the 50 points?), so there is no 7:57 pm. only am. We are stuck in Annecy and the early train in the morning gets in too late to catch the bus. We deduce that our only option is to take the train to Milan and hope that we can make our flight.
up,
up
up
up the hill to the hostel. There is plenty of room for us tonight as the tour buses had pulled out. We meet John West, in the lobby and he treats us to some beer. John is a painter from Australia who is over in France trying to get inspired. He told us that frankly the only thing he really saw here that made him want to paint were some red roofs. I guess France just did not do it for him. But he was a very lively jovial man who enjoyed sharing travel stories from his youth along the hash road. While he was not taken with France you could not help to be taken with his love of life and things beautiful. The unfortunate travel mistakes still did not make Annecy any less beautiful to me. Peter told me that I would love this city and I did, in fact at one point during our breakfast I turned to him and said that I could sit on that one bench all day and be happy.

Tour de Mont Blanc

2007-09-19T10:34:00.000-07:00

So the last post is what happens when I, Nora, go to bed early with a nasty head cold and Peter stays up too late drinking pivo in Budapest. We will get to Buda and Pest later.

Last week, the 19th which I think was Wednesday?, Ricky, Peter and I decided to break the bank and take the tram up Mount Blanc to Aguilles De Midi, 3842 m, over the glacier and into the beginnings of Italy. The rain clouds had finally blown out and unfortunately so had Simon and Kathy. We were hoping they would have stayed to enjoy the day with us. Up we went! With each second the view became more and more spectacular. I believe that 5 min into the trip we all agreed that while the price was dear, it was euros well spent. At Aguilles De Midi we were treated to the sight of folks much hardier than us who were mountaineering out on the glacier. Some were setting up tents in the pristine blanket of white, swhile others were climbing up rock needles simply because they were there. Ricky pointed out the Matterhorn to us, some mountains he had run up previously on his trip. We could not have asked for a better day. We marveled at the French will and engineering that went into building this place into the side of a rock spire on the top of a glacier. Seeing those who were mountaineering also made us question whither you should have to work for a view like this. Have humans ruined the mountain by building these structures and trams? Our doubts were somewhat put to rest by seeing all the 70-80 year old ladies smiling next to the fit 20-somethings covered in ropes and goretex who were smiling as well but at their most recent conquest.

We then boarded a smaller 4 person tram, or suspension over the abyss, you know what ever one wants to call it. Our breath was taken from us. I think that our/Rickys pictures will do a much better job than I at explaining this trip.

When we got over to Helbronner, 3462 m and a cold 4 c, a small station that straddles the boarder between France and Italy. We walked down the stairs that warned us of the imminent danger ahead and out on the glacier itself. I am happy to report that I can cross, standing on a glacier, off my things to do in life list. We opened our bottle of 1 euro wine and combined with the lack of food and excess of altitude, all felt quite cheery. A nice Spanish mountaineer took our picture before he was off to conquer the Mont, not the -pelier kind. On the way back we poured some wine out for our hommies, Simon and Kathy who could not be with us on this trip.

Back to the Skiers Refuge for a HUGE curry dinner and Rickey was kind enough to treat us to some Mont Blanc beer, which is made with eau from Mont Blanc. Though I am pretty sure in Chamonix that just means tap water. We discussed politics and world events with two other travelers, Michael from Oregon and Jason from England. We must have all left something on the Blanc since it was an early night for us all.

a dreary day in heaven...is still heaven

2007-09-18T15:03:00.000-07:00

Tuesday the 18th was a lazy day. The weather was dreary, and the bodies were equally. We sat on the porch and watched the rain come down. A terrible day in Chamonix is still a beautiful day--beautful, relaxing; one in the same.

After heading out into the rain for a run with Rickeyand Nora, Nora didnt seem to keen on drudging up a mountain in the pissing rain. We ran up a mountain (at the base o Chamonix, keep in mind!) where, eight feet in front of you, the trail was at eye height. What is that, 25%-30%? Whatever it is, damn steep! In a a few minutes up the mountain, the view of Chamonix was birdseye! Rickey ended up doing a 2 hour 45 min run above tree line and back. That is like hell and back, but the other direction.

The hightlight of the day was the dinner. We met a brit named Pete and combined food to make a fabulous meal of pasta with multi-veggie sauce. The French wines were aflowing as well.

We talked, drank, ate chocolat with liquor of genepi, star gazed and made some great friends.

That consists of a lazy day in Chamonix. Wait until you hear about the eventful day!

Santé!

P.S. That is a Cuban cigar in mi mano. I didn´t inhale!

Belgium Bier, Swiss Chocolat, and Frech Vin

2007-09-14T10:18:00.000-07:00

Where did we leave off last!? Bruges, Belgium, that's right! That is where we were on the internet at the Tourist Info Centre for three hours. No one told us to get off, so it was OK, right? It was a pain in the posterior trying to type on a Belgian keyboard that replaced the A with the Z and the M with the ; They must have been drunk when designing that keyboard! You wouldn't understand how difficult this is until you are actually deleting every second word. A 10 minute entry took an hour, so we really only were in the internet for 30 minutes. It made you feel like you're taking crazy pills! So, after a long night of loud Brits next to us in the Charlie Rockets hostel, I (Peter) decided to go out for a run around the city--it's really a small city, some american SUVs are larger--and came across 4 huge, couple-hundred-year-old windmills. A spectacular sight; like being a mouse looking at a couple of General Electric fans without the guards on them. There is a ring road that encircles Bruges and I just kept the hugh tower in the Grande Place, directly in the middle of the city (it's so difficult to get lost when you have one gargantuan tower guiding you!). When Nora finally got out of bed we went out in search of a way to get to Ouvernne, Switzerland for the World Mountain Running Trophy race the next day. We became a little frustrated and so we did what any good Belgian would do...have a beer for breakfast. We sat along the canal, drank Leffe Radieuse (only 8.2% ABV--not too strong for a morning drink!) and watched all the fat American tourists get escorted around the small and highly walkable city by boat. Ummmmm, are we not walking because we want to maintain our robustness, or is it that we are just trying to solidify the stereotype!? We have no room to speak, we are drinking a wine strength beer at 10 in the morning. You may call us connoisseurs but don't call us lushes! We walked around the small city with the tiny red brick houses. One would think that tiny hobbits or tommy knockers lived there with the insie size of the doors and houses. We managed to find a bottle of the best beer in the world in 2005, a Trappist Brewery called Westvleteren. No label, just a bottle cap identifying it as Westvleteren 8 with the words "TRAPPIST BIER" embossed into the bottle. And not cheap. A bottle goes for 9,50 Euros, about $15 US. We found it for 5,50 Euros and it will be savored like a 20 year old Italian wine. After Nora went on a plane ticket-buying-rampage (4 separate flights in under an hour, she's talented!) we further explored Bruges, the Belgian equivalent of Venezia, Italia. The ticket from Milan to Bratislava, Slovakia in a week was 19 Euro, then the flights to Bremen, Germany; Oslo, Norway; and Frankfurt, Germany (for Oktoberfest!!!!) were all 1 cent each! Top that JetBlue! We found an amazing little hostel, De Passage, which looked more like a four star hotel than a 14 Euro a night hostel. To enter the hostel one had to pass through a long, narrow alley, or passage, before finding Guido, our host. Guido told us there was free Belgian beer with a purchase of a meal and showed us some real Belgian hospitality. We hadn't eaten a proper meal since we had the Indian feast aboard Air India a week before. Our meals now consist of bread, jam, muesli, laughing cow cheese, chocolate and beer; breakfast, lunch and dinner. All the food groups accounted for! (Nora has just taken over writing as Peter's strive for perfection makes the writing process slow. I, on the other hand, have no regard for any of the rules in the english language. I am sure that many of you will find my spelling and grammar mistakes amusing.) We went up to our room and found Emilie, a demure young woman, and Jerome, an innocent young man. They were both law students from Quebec who are taking a semester abroad to study in Belgium. We also met Peter Martin a happy-go-lucky Aussie from Perth (on the WEST SIEEEDE!) who is a traveller jaunting around Europe for a few months. Peter-from- Perth is soon heading for the east coast of the US and is very much looking forward to seeing our grand country. If anyone would like to show him around Boston, New York, DC or Virginia, please contact us and we will pass on the message. We are sad that we are not there to show him around Boston. The 5 of us decided to go hunting for sustenance. We figured that if we all went then there would be no one left in the room to steal our belongings. The first place we went did not have any food, only beer, so it was not the place for us (just Peter). Peter-from-Perth had his Bruges map for young travelers that had the amazing foresight to point out where you can get a bowl of pasta for 3 euro. Off we went. While standing in the street deciding where it was exactly, we encountered Maciek from Melbourne, he is flamboyant, outspoken, intellectual Eddie Vedder-look-alike who is studying law in Paris. We all decided to eat and drink at Medard, a family owned restaurant housed in a building that has been a family bakery for 5 generations. The current family decided bakers have to get up too early, so it is now a restaurant. There was only seating outside, which suited us just fine. We enjoyed heaping bowls of pasta and beers with the appropriate serving vessel. The conversation centered around politics, american (Hillary or Obama?, good bush/bad bush), australian (state care, or lack thereof, refugees, shitty Aussie beer, the PM, and Borat, who is universal--THAT VEEERY NIAACE!!!) and french speaking canadian (can Quebec survive on its own). The three former British colonies were well represented. The conversation was heated at times, but it was all in good fun. We shut the place down and got the owners autograph, since his photo was on our map. "My wife is the boss, I am just the humble servant" he was quoted saying. We wanted to show them the Garre in the De Garre alley to have a Garre. On the way over Maciek ran into one of his friends from college, Monika and her friend Daniel, both Australians or POMEs. Our expanding group was too large for the tiny Garre, we would have overrun the place. The next stop was 't Bruges Beertje. Very crowed, but room was made for us in the champagne room. Remember: none of that is the champagne room! Fire codes do not exist in Belgium. Either that, or the fire marshals were all drunk! The heavenly beer and happy conversations continued through the night. We had a Trappist Achel Blond and Bruin. Peter tried a bit of Jerome's Steendonk Wit, mainly for the name, and it smelled and tasted like prosciutto. We felt warmed by the good company surrounding us. Since we had to catch the 5:30 am train to Brussels we walked back to the passage with Peter-from-Perth. It was a Belgian day. Saturday morning 5 am came very early. On the walk to the train station we passed some Italians walking home from a drunken night, who exclaimed they wanted their beds; we felt their pain. This was the beginning of an extremely long day of travel. Off to Bruxells, to catch a flight to Geneva. I slept when ever I was seated. Once in Geneva we caught a train to Martigny, where we waited for a bus to Ovronnaz, Switzerland. Unsure of where the bus stop was, we asked the bus driver and he motioned that it was up ahead. The stops kept going by us and soon the bus stopped in Sion (SEE-yaun, as Paul Low says) and everyone got off the bus, end of the line? We asked the bus driver again where Ovronnaz was, he seemed shocked that we did not get off the bus and at Laytron to catch the bus to Ovronnaz. Bus transfer? When did anyone tell us about this? We found that Switzerland's policy of neutrality also applies to helping travelers. He did take pity on us and told us he would bring us back, but we had to wait an hour in Sion until he drove back to Martigny. We walked around the town and back on the bus and finally in Ovronnaz to see the trophy race. When we arrived we found that all the races were held that day and, in fact, the mens race was not to be held on Sunday as we were told by the sleep deprived Paul Low. The awards ceremony was going on at the finish line and we hiked up the road and followed the sound of cow bells and horns to find it. There we spotted Paul, Kelly, Rickey, Simon, Chris, Nancy, Laura, and the rest of the USMRT. They all where happy to see Peter as the trophy race does not seem to be the same with out him. Down the hill we all went, to get ready for a pot-luck. Dinner was lovely and as the race was over the wine and beer was aflowing. After dinner we all walked back up the hill to check out the after party. The word on the street was they were charging 25 CHF for supporters to get in. To avoid this, the team lent out their jackets to us all and the size of the team doubled for the after party. There was much dancing, music, melted cheese, proscuitto, gherkins, salami and drunk junior runners from all over the globe. All the teams were trading their gear and Peter tried to trade his Nike jacket that he put a small usa patch on. He was offered a Slovenian jacket, Mexico jacket and track pants by a drunk Slovenian junior, but he wanted to hold out for the Irish jacket. I must have inspired him to love the motherland. All were in good cheer and it was good to see everyone. Sunday: Where is Rickey? We were planning on traveling with him but no one knew where he was. We said good buy to Simon, Kathy, Anita, Mike, Chris, Laura and her family, Rachel and her very generous parents (Thanks so much!!) and Paul and Kelly. Paul and Kelly were kind enough to take some of our Belgian glasses and abundance of clothes back to the states. Their willingness to do so made them both my new favorite people and I was so happy that I actually almost cried. We both decided that our packs were too heavy and we wanted to unload some of it. I think that we got our pack weight down to half of what it was. We may have less outfits but our backs will thank us later. But again, where is Rickey? Peter went off and found him sitting in his room, hungover, way past check out, just in foreign sweatpants, drinking coke and eating Swiss Pringles. He claimed he was sitting around waiting to be kicked out of his room, as he had been out until 5 partying with the young 15 year old runners. Peter helped him pack up the backpack bomb that had exploded in his room. The three of us decided to follow Simon, Kathy et al to Lukerbad. We missed the car ride that left at 9:30 so it was bus, train, bus for us. We arrived in Lukerbad and Peter and Rickey went off to find a place to stay or Simon and Kathy, which ever happened first. I stayed back in the sun and watched the bags. The boys convinced the Weisses Rossli Hotel (White Horse) owner to give us a reduced rate. I am not sure what they offered the owner, but they seemed pleased with their barganing ability. The view from our balcony was spectacular. We were up on the third floor looking at rooftops of old houses and churches and all around us were the jagged peaks of the Swiss Alps. Happier we could not have been more. It may be the most perfect place in the world. Inspired by the beauty, it was off for some running. The boys scrambled up a 25% grade trail, across some glacial run-off and ran along the breathtaking trail far above Leukerbad. I ran up toward the glacier on a trial that lead me to a metal walkway bolted into the side of the cliff, suspended above the glacier river. The walkway turned into a suspension bridge and brought me into a waterfall. I stood in the wonder of it all for awhile wondering how this could be my life. After the run we met up again the Kathy and Simon who were relaxed from the thermal baths and all enjoyed some fine Swiss wine. We treated ourselves to a dinner out and all went to bed early. It was the most packed our bellies had been since we arrived in Europe. Monday: The boys were up early and Simon took them to the trail head of Gimmi bahn for some Gimmi-Running. Up they went, or so I am told. Rickey reached the top in 38 min, while Peter came in at 53 min. It was 3.8k of sheer uphill running. At the top they met Alekseev Alexander a russian runner who was coaching someone at the trophy race. He offered them some of his special russian energy drink, orange juice (with a little vodka) and lit up a thin cigarette. You know the usual thing one does after running up a mountain... Peter was enjoying an endorphin high that has been missing from his life for 2 years. It must been all the good Belgium beer that is the cure for what has been ailing him. Simon and Kathy were kind enough to let the three us pile in to the Fiat Panda and catch a ride to Chamoinx, France. We felt a bit like like sardines in the small car and Rickey had to strap his orange backpack to the top, so we could all fit in. The drive over the mountains was again amazing, (I need to come up with a better phrase) and we were all taken aback a bit with the first glimpse of the glacier at the base of Mont Blanc. The peak itself was hidden behind the clouds but the view was a treat none the less. We checked into the Ski Station hostel, and by that I mean put or bags on beds and left a note for the owner, and went of running and food shopping. The night was spent over a homemade meal of pasta, chicken, beans, bread, stinky cheese and numerous types of French bon vino. The cheese smelled, the wine was dry and the company was happy and content. Laughter lasted much into the rainy night. We talked to an English hiker who attempted to climb the mountain and turned back because of the weather. He then heard that 20 min later two Italian hikers, who did not head for home, sadly died on the mountain. It happens here often but it is still sad to hear. Today Tuesday 18th! Are you tired of reading yet? We enjoyed a lazy day watching the rain in Chamonix, hence the time to write this book. Not sure of where we will end up next we fly out of Milan on Saturday so that will be the general direction. We hope all is well at home with all of you. Miss you!

London to brugge via zdam

2007-09-11T06:16:00.000-07:00

Since our last post.......we have done a lot. We left bloody expensive London and took a ferry from the coast of Harwich aboard the Flying Dutchman. Not only did it serve as our transportation, it also served as our lodeging. Aside from the sea-sickness that Nora felt, we had a dutchoven of a time and stocked up on the most amazing museli and a sorts of other foodstuffs that we could eat for many future meals to come. Took the train to Amsterdam and lugged our bags around the red light district waving at all the very friendly, half naked women in the window. We felt like we were still on zee boot the way our heads were bobbing und weaving...and it wasn´t due to the coffee shop we visited. We found a great Belgian cafe, fittingly called Cafè Belgique, where we met a Jeff, a Northwest employee who was out having a beer before having to fly back to Detroit. Thanks for the La Trappe Dubbel, Jeff.

After spending some the day in the ´Dam, and feeling woozy, we took the train to Brugge...well, that´s where our ticket was supposed to be to, but we had to get off in Bruxells. The conductors sat with us and told us restuarant to visit, beers to try and places to see (one would think they would need to work). Probably the nicest people I have ever come across in my life.

Due to time, here`s a breakdown:

Bruxells - couldn`t find any hostels that were clearly marked on the map, but toured the beautiful city and met a couple of Canadian´s (eh), Jason and Jen and with the two powerhouse countries working together we found one--booked. They found us a hotel at a hostel price, but we couldn´t find the hotel, as there was no sign - Belgians must have been drunk when it came to ordering a sign. The old man who ran the place had to come out on the street and find us...
The next day we visited manneken pis, he was dressed to the nines in a tux. Dont fret he was nude again at night. We then started the first of our many 8-12% beers of the day at Poechenellekelder, a bar which offers over 150 beers. Over all that day we sampled 9 of the finest beers the country has to offer. Only 682 to go. We were treated to a light show put to classical music in the grand place, a european square everyone should see. We tasted many chocolates too. My personal favorite was the chocolate beer, Floris Chocolat. The next morning it was off to Brugge.

Brugge. Amazing. Lots of beers, a brewery tour, belgian fries with curry catchup. We ventured down a tiny ally to find the only place in the world where you can have Garre beer. So we had a Garre at de garre in the garre. One of the coolest places ever. We can now check that of the things to do in life list. We just finished purchacing $.01 tickets to Oslo, Bremen, Frankfurt and Bratislava. We havz tons more to write but the europeqn key boqrd is jqking ,e crqwy. off to have a beer.

Foggy London Towne

2007-09-10T07:38:00.000-07:00

Brilliant! We have made it to the other side of the pond. After a pleasant flight aboard Air India (grand curry) we arrived early in the morning, 2 am our time, 8 am london time. Though after four time zones in the last month I guess it does not really matter after a while. We promptly went to the hostel near St. Pauls and took a nice napper on the couch. Peter had to force me to get up and actually spend some time walking around the city. I'm glad that he did. We browsed the Dalis and Picassos at the Tate, cheered on the fish mongers at the hay galleria, walkled across the mellinium bridge and the tower bridge, we strolled past the globe and gave Will some pointers on a play, enjoyed a picnic and a shandy on the Thames River (one for dinner as well with pint cans of John Smiths). Today we saw Big Ben again and again, Griswald style, had a picnic in Picadilly Circus that consisted of food stolen from the hostel breakfast, things are really the opposite of cheap here. We are looking now for flights/ferrys to Amsterdam. Enjoy and keep in mind that we had a pint for you!

The Trans American (and partially Canadian) Drive

2007-08-03T07:01:00.000-07:00

Big Sur, California Coastline

This is the first post.

After an hour of trying to figure out how to post on this blog, we have acquired access. Answer=put in the correct password, duhhh.

We are leaving the very green mountain state (East Montpelier, VT) with lots of homemade bread headed toward Rochester, NY to visit the Poopy Paulings and the new addition to their family, Alistair Finn, who has a lung capacity of 70 breaths/min.

Then onward, but we don't want to get ahead of ourselves.....

Vermont to Rochester, NY. We stayed with the Paulings and then tried to find Niagra Falls, but never were able to locate it. Surprising, since it is such a huge body of flowing water separating the US and Canada. Frustrated after not being able to find this little waterfall, we crossed into Ontario, Canada and took the QEW where we had to slow down because of the kph vs. mph. They should at least try to make the transition from kph to mph smooth, not so that you have to slow down to residential street speeds. Silly Canadians!!!

Into Detroit, where we saw Eminem pushing a shopping cart along 8 Mile: "Yo, Dawg!!!??" Stayed in Ann Arbor with Steve and Catherine and little Charlie.

Then onto the windy city, Chicago to meet up with a great friend and fellow US Olympic Committee intern, Abby Tompkins. We stayed with her in an immaculately decorated apartment in the Lincoln Park section of lakeside Chicago. We liked it so much that we stayed a few days and rode beach cruisers along the Lake, visited Navy Pier, ate a Mini's, where everything is minature down to the bottles of alcohol, visited the Goose Island Brewery (one of the best micro breweries in the country, hands down!), saw Lolapalooza from the top of Abby's apartment building, walked by the Sears Tower and saw a store with a sign outside which read "Standard Limbs". I think they sold body parts there.

After Chicago we left Illinois (don't pronounce the s!) and headed toward Wisconsin, Dodgeville to be exact, to visit the Knoedler's, Nora's aunt, uncle and cousin. This was the total opposite of Chicago, everything was calm, slow and quite--save for the crickets, those were ear piercing, so much so that we needed to wear ear plugs to sleep! The next day we visited Devil's Lake and had a picnic. We lounged and swam in the lake and realized why people are so happy in the small states like Wisconsin.

Next to....tune in later as we SLOWLY post more adventures!