Travel journal kept during a college travel course through Europe I was on last summer. Nothing groundbreaking, but figured someone might find it interesting. Countries covered: England, France, Germany, Czech, Slovakia, Hungary, Austria, and a bit of Italy

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     I woke up this morning after 2.5 hours of sleep. I always do this when traveling across multiple time zones: stay up almost the entire night before and try to sleep as much as possible on the plane.  In theory, this allows me to 'reset' my internal clock and more readily adjust to the time of my destination. In this case: London.

    This trip is something that I have been looking forward to from the moment I figured out I would have enough money to go.  In part, this made it easier to stay awake for almost the entire night, and all day today.  The excitement I usually feel before a journey or an adventure is easily enough to keep me alert.  

    Skipped breakfast, didn't really feel like eating, showered, and loaded my laptop with a few last minute diversions: Hell Boy, a Kurosawa Movie, and some un-subtitled japanese anime.  This is in addition to loads of CS papers downloaded from the ACM that I probably should be reading instead of doing anything else, classic works from project gutenberg, a few different audiobooks, and Stephenson's Cryptonomicron. I'll probably just watch anime and read Cryptonomicron the entire time.  Oh well, the CS papers on cellular automata and genetic algorithms are there if i feel the urge for more concrete knowledge.

    I arrive at GB ridiculously early. This is typical for me, whenever I travel I tend to be incredibly anal about triple checking every item in my pack and ensuring that I arrive on time for everything, especially departures.  So, we drive around for awhile because there is no one in front of the library. I'm starting to worry that maybe i mistook the time, or the place. Perhaps we are meeting in front of the Intl center at 11:30 PM instead of in front of cofrin library at 11:30am. Oh well, it will all work off.  Angela drops me off at the gate to the union, outside of the intl center and i wander around campus for a half hour until other people start to show up. Decent.

    - The Bus -

    I had the honor of being able to assist the incredibly intelligent, interesting, and funny Dr Breznay with his newly acquired digital camera, the origins of which i shall never divulge.  He also had a few nice things to say about my digital camera, which was cool. I am already rather impressed with it, but additional positive comments simply boost by satisfaction.  

    We then collect money, read the email from Vyckee, (or however you spell it) our 5'5" blonde tour guide that must deal with dumb yanks enough to have the sense to describe her height to us in the archaic standard system instead of metric [UPDATE - Turns out the brits actually use quite a few of the old measurements, and are still in the process of switching to metric] .  After this, I attempt to settle down and take a look at a thrilling dissertation on the ability of a three dimensional array of cellular automata has the ability to approximate a universal turin..... okay, no. I started watching anime. I was about to do this but then people started sitting near me, and it would have been antisocial to dive into my own world. So instead i started organizing my picture collection.  Peter was polite enough to ask about it, and what resulted was an hour long session of me sharing photos of cambodia and thailand with Peter, the illustrious CS professor, Dale, the fearsome ex marine who will be transferring to ITT, Bob, the human bio / exercise science major, and Jenny, the urban and regional studies major.  Which was kind of cool. Dale could only pretend interest for so long, but Peter, Jenny, and Bob seemed pretty interested. Peter then shared some stories of his travels, and this turned into a conversation in which Jenny and bob participated, bob having been to italy before.  

    I then borrowed jenny's travel guide, a let's go book covering western europe.  I prefer lonely planet, but the LG guide still had a lot of good info in it.  I read up on the history of Britain, a few cultural tidbits, and then passed the book on to dale.  I'll probably be traveling to Venice with jenny, so it's a good thing she seems cool and fairly practical. Even if she did come with a ton of luggage.  

    After further discussion and getting to know the above mentioned three better we arrive in chicago.  I am amazed to discover that I am the only one without a hulking amount of luggage.  Perhaps i have carried my 'travel light' philosophy to an extreme bordering upon folly. Whatever, if i need more clothing i can buy it in europe.

    After navigating the full cavity search and background check that now constitutes airport security I am in O'Hare.  I promptly head to terminal C, talk to Dale, discover that there is in fact a Cinnabon's in the terminal, and then seek out said Cinnabon retailer with Dale and Bob accompanying me.  Upon purchase of the product, a soft, sugary, gigantic cinnamon role smothered with frosting and bursting with unique cinnamony flavor, I resist the urge to devour it immediately. Instead, I bring it back to gate c16, sit right next to peter, and proceed to enjoy it right in front of his face, all the while making fun of his salad. hahaha.

    Peter later bought his own Cinnabon. I saw that coming. =)

    I am now on the plane, typing away.  We just cleared a major packet of turbulence, so now i can actually type at a decent clip.  I kind of lucked out in my current seat - a girl wanted to sit in the cruddy center seat i was originally assigned so that she could chatter incessantly with her friend.  This was agreeable to me because I got a window seat out of the arrangement. Bonus.  Well, this marks the end of day one, as i am about to let my self fall to sleep. Ahh, blissful release.  

--end day one--

-- Day Two - 6/01/04 --

  Awaken - still in the plane. Christ is it hot in here. Figure out that there is a nozzle above my head that i can adjust to get a steady stream of stale air pouring right onto the top of my head, and that makes things a little cooler.  I listen to some music, the peter gabriel album Up. Good stuff, and it fits with my mood, awakening in a cramped seat in the economy section of the United Airline's 737 I am flying on.  

    Breakfast shows up. Usually i stay away from airline food, but hunger convinces me otherwise. Besides, it's in a pretty little UA box. If it's in a box, it cannot be all that bad, can it? There is some fresh fruit which is good, as well as some mysterious, warm pastry that is soft in the middle. On the whole, rather good.  

    Music shifts to Dido, the album Life for Rent.  We are flying over Ireland: my first view of the land on the other side of the Atlantic.  Our plane flies just south of Belfast, and I am able to catch a glimpse of farmland through the clouds. Quite different from the states, actually.  Farmland viewed from a plane in the US is rigidly laid out in precise rectangular grids, divided with streets. Some of these squares may have a wooded corner, but the overall pattern is immediately recognizable.  Not so Ireland.  It looks like some mad, blind, 75 year old with palsy just held a pen to a map while he had a seizure. Schizophrenic lines form bizarre peanut shaped and gumdrop fields. Different shades of green and brown meld together to form a fascinating patchwork.  Very cool.

    Still chilling to Dido. Janil awakens in the next seat in time to accept the immigrations card from the attendant.  I fill mine out, Janil writes on the back which clearly states: Official Use ONLY, and then wonders whether she should get another card and start over (pen does not erase too well).  She then notices that the front says in bold, red capital letters WRITE IN BLOCK LETTERS ONLY. Guess what Janil didn't do.  Unable to press the button to call a flight attendant herself, I summon one, and she gets another card, managing to fill it out properly this time.

    We Circle back and forth around Heathrow for about a half hour before finally plunging through the ridiculously low and thick crowd cover to a rainy London.  We have arrived.

    Immigrations - we go through a special group travel lane, first time i've seen one of these. Most countries will have different lanes for returning nationals, countries that they are on favorable relations with, and everyone else. England has one for groups. Guess it works.  Janil finds out that we do not need the immigration card that she went through such trouble to fill out properly, and pouts.

    We exit the airport and meet our Tour Director (not a guide) Vykke, or however it is spelled. Very cool chick. Upbeat and friendly, despite having to deal with three groups of stupid americans. Cool.  We take a bus from the airport into london, and I am fascinated. Music is now BT - Emotional Technology.  Much like japan, there are no clattering, rusted out crap-mobiles on the road. Every vehicle shiny and newish.  The landscape is pretty, green and lush with vegetation similar to Michigan, but more deciduous.  Traffic starts to thicken as we enter london, and I am thrilled and envious to see motorcyclist simply ride on the dotted lane divider, dodging mirrors as they whiz by the slowly moving traffic. I begin to think that i should try living in london.

    The buildings and the houses are remarkably different. Brick is used more extensively, and you see very few homes that stand on their own.  Instead of just the occasional duplex you will see in the states, almost every residential building appears to be either an apartment complex, or some sort of melding of four homes.  The chimneys are the classic spouts you see in Mary Poppins, and similar to japan, every yard is fenced in.  The streets are paved and curving, with wide sidewalks covered in either large, flat gray stones or small cobblestones, as opposed to the boring but functional concrete slabs common to the midwest.  Despite the obvious press for space within the center of london, there is still quite a bit of vegetation, and the occasional park. Quite an awesome place, the entire city as a very cool vibe to it.  A city such as Chicago or detroit, and to a lesser extent Tokyo seems almost cruel in it's massive size. London does not give this sense, it is a warm and welcoming city, and this despite the rain and overcast weather. 

    The bus drops us off a few meters from the hotel. Almost everyone in our group is simply dead on their feet. It's kind of funny panning the crowd as we stand waiting for Vykke to guide us to the entrance of the hotel: glazed eyes, sour expressions, and slouched shoulders are far too tired to look back, instead they just sort of sit there in a human version of standby mode. We find our hotel.  Picture has been taken of our room.  Plain but functional, no complaints. 

    Vykke gives us an hour to freshen up. I dump my one backpack in the room, shower, watch the infamous BBC for a bit, and then head backstairs. I am somewhat hesitant to check my laptop at the desk, but oh well. Cannot go around in a paranoid daze all the time.  Check my laptop *cringe* and head out the door.

    We walk the few blocks, enter the underground and Padington station (of stuffed animal fame) and ride to Picadilly circus.  Vykke walked us to the heart of the area and then set us loose for an hour. I roamed around with Bob, and saw a few cool things. There were street performers going through their routines, and although this was interesting, what was more interesting is the way the crowd of londonites reacted. They were laid back for the most part, but cheered and clapped as the performer asked them to. Pulled from the caption of one of my pictures:

This guy was funny, a street performer but more impressive than his little stunts was his comedy and the way in which he would manipulate the crowd.  Here he is getting ready to throw knifes at a board. Even more amusing to me was the british crowd's reaction to the entertainer, who would say lines like "THIS is the BACK of the STAGE. that MEANS, that all YOU see, is my ASS!!" and would proceed to wave his behind at the people standing 'behind' the stage, and then ask them to move.  He also studded his speech with other choice words, and as you can see there are plenty of children, with their parents in their crowd, and everyone just laughed.  Much cooler attitude than you would see in america.  He also singed one guy out and asked 'WHY are you NOT CHEERING??' to which the singled-out-brit replied "Well, it was not that good." 

    Vykee then guided us to the fish & chips joint, but then made a last minute excuse to ditch out on us. Apparently she had eaten at the joint before.  The fair was a bit bland, and i leave the restaurant hoping that all EF provided meals are not like this one.  Vykke rejoined us just as dinner was finishing (cunning that) and guided us back to the hotel. Peter, Vykkee, Dale, Bob, Liah, Rachel, Amber and I then went out and chilled at the pub Dickens, after charles dickens, which billed itself as "London's longest pub". It was a pretty cool joint actually. I don't like bars, but this was more like a restaurant than a bar: relaxed atmosphere, plenty of chairs and tables, and decent decor.  I of course had water, and much to my surprise so did bob, apparently he does not drink either.  Vykke starts out by drinking mildly, but this stops as soon as she she's Amber slamming pint after pint. Dale and also got into a bit of a discussion on politics. Dale brought up a few good points about Iraq, why did we go in? I really do not think that it was because of humanitarian reasons, but Dale reasoned that if it was because of the gas, then why have gas prices not gone down? 

    Peter and I, still hungry and somewhat disappointed after the F&C incident, check out a greek joint - Niki's. Phenomenal. I thought that i had eaten greek before, Vango's in marquette is one of my favorite places to eat. Niki's put Vango's to shame. And I like Vango's. This food was just incredible. Even the freaking olives that the serve as an appetizer were amazing. Eating the food was like cutting of little pieces of paradise, putting them in my mouth, and becoming enlightened.   

    After dinner Peter and I had a little bit of a talk about grad school, and he shared with me his experiences. He also brought up the point that although people who study longer and go for higher degrees may delay their entry to the workforce by several years, thus 'putting off' 5 or more years of income, they are often happier than those that plunge into industry and start collecting money.  He described money as a means, not an ends, and to him it seemed like a lot of people were pursuing the means which they had confused for the ends, which may be why many of them are unhappy.  All of this is really stuff that I had thought of before.  The past couple years of my life I have been thinking less and less about mass accumulation of money, or of objects at all. I actively try to restrict my accumulation of material goods. I currently make just under 15 dollars an hour, and although more money would be nice, i don't really feel the need for it.  Anyhow, i am really starting to think seriously about grad school.

    Read some stephenson and one of the ACM Papers, Concepts of Automata Theory. I was disappointed to find that it did not in fact discuss cellular automata, but instead dealt more with functions and recursive theory. Anyhow, after a few pages of that, I was ready for bed. Maybe i should study history instead =)

--- Day Three - Wednesday, June 2nd, 2004 ----

Awaken at 6:00am of my own accord. Apparently the cluster involving the wake up calls extended to our room. Oh well, such things happen.  Stretch out a bit, grab my iPod, cruise by Dale's room to see if he feels like going for a jog. He does not, kind of saw that coming.  climb down the five+ flights of stairs to the ground floor, unlock the door of the hotel and hit the streets. Jogging, london, 6am.  Music: A mix of Dido, BT, and Wir Sind Helden (which, btw, i found out means 'We are Heroes'). Wonderful. I love this feeling, alone at the crack of dawn with music, exploring the external world from the comfort of my internal one, the two working off each other is a positive feedback loop making each entire levels more interesting than they would be independently. 

    Yet another thing that is cool about london is that the royal family still owns quite a bit of land right in the middle of the city, and instead of developing this land or leasing it out, they have converted them to public parks.  Everywhere you go in london there is green, and chances are that just around the corner is another open square or park.  Well, i jogged about a half of a mile and then hit Kensington park. This absolutely massive expanse of lawns, forest, and pools.  I see a few other joggers and cyclists out, but on the whole the park is definitely not crowded.  I run the perimeter, a jog of about five miles and then head back to the hotel for a breakfast of toast. 

    After breakfast we got on our bus and met the tour guide of the day, Fred. Fred was a really cool guy. It was nice talking to fred because if you asked him a question, instead of just giving you an answer he would give you loads of valid background information and answer the question in depth.  Leeched much knowledge from this man.

    We first cruised around London a bit until we reached St Pauls cathedral.  Built in the 17th century after the fire of london in 66, the cathedral is a romanesque masterpiece. Interestingly enough, the architect Christopher Wren had never actually been to italy, but instead studied the classical knock-offs in france. The cathedral currently is truer to the architects design than it was prior to WWII. Apparently Wren was not allowed to implement all of his design in the part of the church corresponding to the top of the crucifix. Well, the Nazis bombed the hell out of this part of the church, and it was then rebuilt after the war to Wren's original specifications.

    St Pauls is also the burial site of Nelsen, a british naval hero. Apparently this guy died at his crowning moment, after defeating the french at the battle of Trafalgar .  There was a statue of Nelson which was actually set up quite interestingly.  Apparently he had lost his right arm, and one of his eyes, and this statue was set up so that he had a cape covering his arm, and you could not tell which eye he had lost.  

    After St Pauls, the coach dropped us off close to Trafalgar square and Fred gave us an hour before we had to meet back up.  I went strait to the National Gallery which, like most museums and galleries in britain, was free to the public.  Music: Mozart - Requium.  Saw some cool works, many of which were immediately recognizable.  The works of Seurat, or however you spell it, the usual smattering of Monet's, some Van Eyck, and Leonardo's Virgin on the Rocks, as well as the cartoon with the virgin mary sitting on St. Anne's lap.  Very, very cool.  Trafalgar square itself is rather neat as well. It had a few fountains, and in the middle, Nelsons Column. Basically, a huge pillar with a statue of our favorite one-armed one-eyed admiral standing at the top, with huge lions at the base, and statues at three of the four corners of the square.  The fourth corner just has a plinth, apparently they have not yet decided what statue to put there. Which is kind of cool that the brits give it that much thought.  They don't just plunk a statue there for the hell of it, they think it out and debate it.

    After this we hopped on the bus again, and headed to windsor.  A very cool castle, and although the queen was not present it still seemed very royal.  The castle was just massive, and that is only the state rooms that we had access to, the quarters that the queen was actually living in were of course closed off, and protected by a ridiculously stiff guard that would march a few paces, stiffly, at the tone of a bell. Very formal.  The state rooms were very impressive and incredibly... stuffy. Master piece theatre-ish. There is no way that i would want to live, or even chill out in such rooms. The furniture was all stiff backed and very uncomfortable looking.  This is not to say that the whole thing was not incredibly cool. Many rooms sported full suits of armor, weapon racks, guns on display, fantastic art, and incredible portraits. Coolest of all though was a hall that had every bit of space on the walls and ceiling covered with the different crests of the nobility. 

    After leaving the state apartments, i watched the stiff guard go through his routine and then headed to the cathedral of St George (of dragon slaying fame).  Yet another awesome church, this time in the perpendicular gothic style (also called anglican gothic).  I am in no way capable of describing the churches in a way which would do them credit, so I will not spend too much time trying. Suffice it to say that incredibly detailed columns and arches climbed the walls and crossed paths at four and sometimes six way intersections on the ceiling, forming a dome of curved triangular pieces.  Each column is exquisitely carved, and the attention to detail is incredible.  In addition to all this, the most prominent source of light is the afternoon sun filtered through traditional stained glass cut to depict the names and portraits of different nobles, as well as the dates that they died.

    We then headed back towards town for some indian cuisine. We yet again showed up early for dinner and had to wait for about ten minutes before being allowed in. This time though, it was for the better. I walked down the street a ways and stumbled upon this fascinating little book shop, Magma Books.  Apparently, their clientele consists almost entirely of design professionals. Of course, their material reflected this. Every book in the store that i looked at featured different types of ad, posters, campaigns, etc.  I checked out a book that featured rock'n'roll posters of the 90's, a book of japanese design which in addition to examples of japanese posters, ads, and packaging also contained numerous photos of the infamous loli-goths of tokyo. Not being a loligoth aficionado, i forget the exact place that they tend to congregate, but i thought it was somewhere around shinjuku. Perhaps i'll figure it out and correct this entry later.  I also could not stop myself from flipping through a book containing different anime posters. (they also had a lot of non-japanese material) I was trying to figure out what exactly this shop was and asked the guy at the front desk "How would you describe this store? What kind of a retailer are you?" To which another random guy answered "The best one!" and yet another random-er "A book store!". Thanks guys.  They guy i originally asked looked troubled for a minute, said it was hard to explain, paused again, and then lit up like a light bulb.  "How cool is this.." and then proceeded to pull out a magazine in which their shop was featured. Ok, that works. Read the article and began to understand what magma books was all about.

    After that was indian.  Another EF quality dinner. Better than fish and chips, and enjoyable, but i have had far better indian food back in the states. Ah well, it was still cool.  After this we go and blow 10 pound on the eye of london. Thats one way of saying some of us dropped 20 dollars a piece to ride a big ferris wheel.  That aside, it did provide an excellent view of london, and went slow enough that you could enjoy it.  It was fun teasing stephanie for her fear of heights too =)  After this, i returned to the national gallery until it closed at 9, and then headed back to padington. I chilled at the internet cafe for awhile and communicated with peeps in the US for exactly 40 minutes. After leaving the cafe Janil tried to convince me to come out to a pub with them. I managed to fob off this invite claiming tiredness and an early start tomorrow morning ( i wanted to hit kensington park one more time, and since the buss was leaving at 8am this meant waking at around 5:30ish)  and ended up making a promise to go out with them tomorrow night. 

    I then returned to the hotel and slept. Woo Hoo.

---

-- Day Four - Thursday June 3rd, 2004 --

    Awaken at 5:30, again of my own accord. Wake up calls simply do not happen at this place.  Go for a jog around kensington park, kind of taking it easy today. Still felt incredible though.  Come back, shower, dress, and head down to breakfast with bob. It is 7 o'clock, the bus leaves at 8, and we are the ONLY people, of 20, having breakfast. Hrmm. Well, we chill, i eat once again, you guessed it, toast.  People started trickling down from upstairs about 20 minutes later, and spent a little bit of time talking to Chong ( i have to be spelling that wrong ) and Molly. Apparently they had gone out, bought some booze, brought it back and then spent the remainder of the night takling to the seventeen year old iraqi ex-pat army-deserter dentist wannabe future-prime-minister-of-iraq's-son front desk attendant.  Apparently this guy was shot in the leg three times by his own superiors and then hitch hiked all the way to london and started working in the Rose Court Hotel (our residence) Fascinating story, and Molly and the crew seemed enthralled. Must have been a neat guy, I didnt' really get a chance to talk to him myself.  We are all on the bus at around 8. All except dale. We give him another 5 minutes and then send bob to check up on him. Apparently he had not woken up yet. Okay. bob comes back, relays this to us, and we continue to wait. For another 15 minutes. Vykkee finally asks me to go and check it out. I run back to the hotel and try the front door. For some obscure reason it is locked and no one answers my poundings. No worries, i remember that the lobby window was cracked, hop the gap to the window sill, open the window, and leap into the lobby. It was all very spy-style, but nobody noticed. Oh well, i had fun all on my own. I run up the four floors to dales room. He had just got done taking a freaking shower and was sedately packing his bags.  I grab his large bag, and run back to the bus. He comes strolling along 5 minutes later. Well, late start, but i guess everyone deserves one chance right?

    We head to canterbury and are able to check out the cathedral there for about an hour or so. I though George's was incredible.  Canterbury was awesome. Much larger and with higher ceilings than George's, Canterbury is a gothic cathedral in all of it's glory. One thing that i have noticed with gothic churches, you spend a lot of time looking up, and a lot of time feeling very small and insignificant.  Canterbury was truly incredible.  Stained glass everywhere, flying buttresses, vaulted ceilings, incredible stone work and the corpses of something like five saints all come together to make the pilgrim feel as insignificant as possible. A very cool experience. 

    After that we drive to the port, wander around the east docks searching for our loading platform for about 20 minutes, much to the frustration of john.  Apparently, these docks are different every time he goes there. I can believe it. It seems like an open flat area with a bunch of temporary fences, concrete barriers, and lines painted on the ground designed with the sole purpose of confusing an english bus driver. It worked. Added to this was the helpfulness of the various people standing around, directing us in the wrong way, and the stupid Owl signs pointing in random directions. We later figured out that the owl must have meant exit. Or at least, thats what we think. Owls??? Whatever.

    We hop on the ferry and shoot across the channel in no time at all. Upon deboarding, we meet our bus driver. A very energetic chap who moos at cows as we pass them, barks at dogs, and swears in french at people who dare to drive in front of him while driving. 4 hours of highway and lush green french countryside later, we arrive in Paris itself.  We eat a place called Flam, in which they serve a type of flat bread with a skimming of cheese and some manner of topping, sometimes mushrooms, sometimes chopped ham, on top. Almost like a simplified pizza.  Pretty good. Dessert is the same thing, but with apple and cinnamon on the top. There was also a dessert flam that had chocolate on the top, but our table did not get any, much to the dismay of the 'Three Musketeers' (Carrie, Karly, and Steph)

    We drive through the city towards our lodging for the next two nights.  We are just getting a glimpse of the eastern side of paris right now, but already it feels quite different from london.  Not only are people not driving on the 'proper' side of the road and speaking french, the city itself has a different flavor.  Paris seems.. for lack of a better word.. dirtier. This is not in a bad way, and keep in mind i have only seen a bit of the east side of it, but the city seems grittier than London.  London still seems a little idyllic in my mind, Paris seems more real.  Keep in mind these are impressions gained from very little travel in either of these cities.  Well, we shall see what the next day brings.

-- Day Five - Friday, June 4th, 2004 --

    France seems cool so far.  I have been picking up a few words here and there, just stuff like please, thank you, sorry, water, etc.  Fun playing around with another language. Our tour guide, Pierre Marie shows up with the coach. Pretty cool guy. Heavy french accent, strongly opinionated, and some funny mannerisms make Pierre an interesting bloke.  We cruise around paris for awhile before going to Notre Damme Chapel. Before arriving, pierre says "wakieee wakieeeee" a few hundred times over the intercom, this guy is hilarious. He also says okiee dokee a lot.  

    Notre Damme is great, even cooler than Canterbury, if they can even be compared.  I know intellectually that it is somewhat of a shame that all of this money and manpower went into building these cathedrals instead of helping very real people who were starving and dying of illness, I am still in awe whenever entering any of these incredible buildings.  I don't have the statistics right now, but I believe that the church is quite a bit larger than canterbury. As we approach it, the numerous gargoyles sticking around three feet out of the side of the building are immediately obvious, projecting like so many grotesque thorns. 

    The gate to the church is intimidating, which is to say that it fits in with the rest of the church perfectly.  Statues of the disciples are carved in exquisite detail, but the only one which can be positively identified is St Peter with his keys.  The inside of the church, like canterbury, makes you feel insignificant before this incredible monument to god.  The vaulted ceilings and ornate stained glass manage to create an atmosphere of holiness, despite the crowds of tourists pushing their way through the cathedral, the flashes of their cameras strobing off the walls.

    After Notre Damme was Versailles.  The palace of the sun king is freaking huge.  Like windsor, the kings chambers themselves are impressive, but so ornate and over done that I cannot imagine living there. Of course, the ones on display were only the state apartments, the kings personal apartments could only be seen by those with a special appointment.  

    Most of the hall of mirrors was closed of for reconstruction. Oh well, another reason to come back Versailles. After that, the group split up and i wandered off into the state room, which was dedicated almost entirely to portraits of napoleon.  After the wandering i hit the gardens, which again were cool. This probably sounds pretty repetitive, but I really find almost everything i come across interesting.  The gardens are massive, but oddly comforting conveying a sense of serenity.  I wander around for awhile, climbing the ornately decorated staircases and exploring the gardens.

    After Versailles we go to dinner. On the way there, I manage to distract Vicky twice talking about kick boxing. Apparently she drew a match against the reigning english female champ.  Vykkee gets cooler and cooler. I found out later that her rematch is on July 26th. Good luck Vykke. 

    After dinner is the Eifel tower, cool of course. Was slightly disappointed to find that they would not let me climb the stairs up the tower.  So, like a plebian, i take the lift (or two lifts actually. kind of confusing).  The view from the top is as can be described.  Stephanie actually went all the way to the top too, and was terrified. I had some awesome pictures, but she was really unhappy with them so I guess I will not put them up on the web, and keep them for my own personal amusement.  

    We also do a boat tour on the Sienne. Coming back from that, I bought a huge bag of candied nuts from a street vendor. I eat too many, and then fob as many of them as possible off on the group.  Vykee and peter thought they were evil, but most people dug them.  On the way up from the docks, i was approached by a sharp selling Eifel tower crap.  I smiled, and poured candied nuts into his hand. He was delightfully shocked, smiled, and kept on saying merci. His friend came over and i gave him some too, and they were both pretty happy. I have this image of people either ignoring them or swearing at them all day long, but the poor guys determined to make a euro-buck keep at it, and at the end of the day some wacko with what Vykee called ass-nuts hooks them up.  I tried this with another sharp crossing the bridge, and he was equally shocked and just kept on saying merci, and even came running after me and puts a piece of eifel-crap in my hand. Very cool experience.  End day Five.

    

-- Day Six - Saturday, June 5th, 2004 --

    I wake slightly late. Peter and I were going to chill together, but I automatically assume that he has already left and make my own plans. With the aid of a pad of paper, a pencil, and hand gestures i manage to secure a bike rental for the day.  20 minutes later, my 200 euro security deposit in the shops envelope and a rattly mama-chari under my rear, i run into peter coming out of the hotel.  Oh well, i'm a freak, and there probably is no way that anyone else would be able to tolerate me until 3, when our passes are good for the louvre. 

    I wander around paris for a little while on my bike. It is a saturday, so the parisians are out en force (literally, as we will later find out).  I travel around a bit and decide to chomp down on the task of navigating to the Centre Pompideau, Paris' world renowned modern art museum.  I dig out my map and proceed to search. While searching, a parisian comes up to me and blabs a torrent of incomprehensible french.  I look at him blankly, and say 'Pardon, no parliveu francais' He then switches to english, and asks if i would like any help. I'm already smiling, but now I say yes and start nodding violently.  The guy was awesome, told me right were to go, and 15 minutes or so later i'm in front of the funky building i was looking for. I go in and chill, checking out the works of Dali, Kandinsky, and other more freaky and disturbing stuff. I eventually end up eavesdropping on what seemed to be a pretty high level art tour from the states and just absorbed as much information from them as possible, which was cool.  I would much rather go through these places with the guidance of someone knowledgeable, but usually just end up staring at stuff like an idiot by myself, listening to the audio-guide if available.

    I finally tear myself away from the group long enough to find that i have 23 minutes to return to my bike, undo the tangle of chains i have used to bond it to a fence, return bike, collect remainder of security deposit, figure out the metro (subway) ride metro to louvre, and find the entrance to the louvre.

    22.5 minutes later i jog up to the front of the pyramid a little damp.  There are four other people there. Apparently, the louvre is not as popular an item as i had thought it would be. No worries, i grab my ticket, chat for a bit, and lo and enter with peter and bob (who had showed up during chatting).  No english map, they were out, so i make do with 日本語版. No worries, it actually makes me feel kind of good that i can. What a dork, eh?

    I know that if i let myself, i will just wander around like a kid in a candy store, mouth agape, listening to every bit of audio guidance available on my 5 dollar dvd-rental unit. So instead, i decide to get the whole mona lisa thing out of the way. Peter takes a million pictures, so i decide to go on ahead.  The ML is smothered in tourists and the strobe of flash photography. This is hilarious. I take pictures of the people taking pictures of the ML. haha. I then wander around the louvre abusing my dvd audio guide and just grokking as much as possible.  I then realize that there is noway i could possible see a quarter of the louvre in 2 days going at this rate.  I start going towards the egyptian section and the part containing greek and roman statues, stopping at anything incredibly interesting in the way.

    I wish that the brand Nike did not exist. It is such a cool concept, the winged goddess of victory: Nike. A shame that she has been reduced to a Jordan-endorsed swoosh.  I stop and stare at the remnants of an almost 3 meter tall Nike, wings outstretched, and it brings me chills.  Awesome.  

    Egypt is also cool. Staring at a gigantic polished marble head and thinking of tawny egyptians toiling away under the sun polishing this. 3500 years ago.  Stare at hieroglyphs, entranced, for an unreasonable amount of time.  Running low on time now, rush through Greek and Roman statues, listening to what audio I can.  Must return to the hotel within 13 minutes. book it through the louvre, stopping if i see something i simply cannot neglect, return the dvdAG, collect my passport (another thing that gives me chills in a different way, i would have rather left the guy with 200 euro), run to the metro, get on the right train and arrive in front of the hotel at exactly 6 to find that once again that punctuality does not really seem to matter to anyone else in the group. Oh well, laid back is good.

    We await our coach(bus). We continue to await the coach. This goes on for awhile.  Finally, Vykee comes back and says screw the coach, you guys go to lunch. Who wants to be leader. Somehow i get nominated, get the directions, and off we go.  Vykee stays behind and tries to hire a cab. We navigate the metro and arrive at the eatery with no problem.  Vykee then calls again and says that she is having trouble securing transportation for our luggage. What ends up happening is we all get on the night train to berlin, and the only person with all of their baggage is me ( i travel with only one pack, which i carried with me).  Apparently the reason is this: http://www.commondreams.org/headlines02/0526-01.htm 

  A huge anti-bush demonstration which brings traffic in Paris to a standstill. The remainder of the group, consisting mostly of girls, is a little unhappy, but better that we continue with the trip than flip out about luggage, right?  The jokes about me getting smelly from only bringing the clothes i can fit into one pack stop =) 

    The train, fitted with beds so that we can sleep away the trip to berlin, is pretty cool.  I spend some time hopping between rooms, talking to all the different people.  The 3 musketeers in particular are pretty funny. They had downed 2 huge bottles of champagne in record time and were chatting it up something furious.  Eventually everyone gets tired, and I attempt to go to sleep on a bed that is about 5 inches shorter than i am.  No problem really... quite a bit more comfortable than an airplane, and I can nod off in no time on a train.  Thus concludes day Six.

-- Day Seven - Sunday, June 6th, 2004 -- 

 Awaken on the train with a decent amount of sleep. We will be arriving in berlin in about 30 minutes.  I climb down trying not to awaken anyone else and go brush my teeth. (being the only one with luggage, i am the only one that does this =)  The station in Germany has about as many people walking around as you can expect at 8:00 on a sunday morning. That is to say it almost appears deserted. We get breakfast from some vendor since the food we had bought in paris with the intent of eating it for breakfast is still in paris. After that, we meet our bus driver, Karen, a friendly Czech guy who doesn't really speak any english, and then swing by to pick up our tour guide for the day, a bitter middle aged woman with a large chip on her shoulder whose name i seem to have forgotten. Our ride in the morning consisted of her just telling us the names of buildings with very little background or history, her working in a few forced laughs, and her answering questions in a kind of harsh manner.  Whatever, i still got a pretty good view of berlin, and got a chance to walk around the brandenburg gate, the only remaining city gate. West of the gate is a street seen in many history books, every column draped with nazi flags.  Although the Nazis were murderous bastards, no doubt about it, i have always thought that they must have had an excellent graphic design division.  Although nazi material is now tied to my knowledge of history, if i separate it and try to just appreciate the flags and the emblems without considering the evil they represent, everything seems very well designed and powerful in their simplicity and stark colors.  Probably a weird thing to say, but a book by william gibson kind of keyed me into this disassociated appreciation.

    We finally end up at the hotel. 80% of the people on the tour crash, muttering about not having any luggage. I get a room to myself for some reason and take a shower, anticipating the knock on the door from Dale who wants the room, probably to shag with Rachel.  I'm sitting on the bed reading stephenson, literally chilling, or waiting for my body to cool down from the shower before getting dressed when the predicted knock, well, make that cacophony of noise, sounds on my door. It is dale, knocking hard enough to break the door down. I get dressed and let him in.  My laptop is playing Shina Ringo, bizarre japanese music.  Dale says 'Nice room here'. 'Yeah, it's pretty nice' I go back to reading. Dale stands there for about two minutes. 'You wanna switch?'

 I don't really want to get into it, and i really don't care. On the assumption that there is a reason for Peter putting me alone instead of dale (who has had is own room every night prior to this) i tell him i don't really care, just check with peter. Peter says okay.  Probably more detail than is necessary, but i thought it was kind of funny how he asked, in no way acting like he was asking a favor.

  I walk out on my own and ride the tram 15 minutes to the north, looking for a laundromat. The jokes about me smelling may have stopped, but i'm sure that they will pick back up if i really do start to ripen.  I get off the tram station i was directed to by the girl at the hotel and have no idea where the laundromat is.  I scare the crap out of some random german guy by asking him for directions. Lucky for me, he speaks fluent english and points me in the right direction, 200 more meters to the north. 

    Arrive at said laundromat.  The setup is pretty complex. In retrospect, i really should have taken a picture, as it was kind of cool. There was a central console into which you must put your money and activate your chosen machine.  You then place a cup under the detergent spout, press the button and a bunch of white powder which you hope will clean your clothes is released.  This is then poured into a compartment at the top of the side loading washing machine. Further rites involving buttons and arcane symbols and centigrade measurements are performed on the front of the machine itself, and my clothes are being cleaned by a gentle, water saving clockwise rotation.  

    I did not figure this out by myself. The german guy that gave me directions stuck his head in the laundromat while i was staring at the washing machine dumbfounded and proceeded to do the whole thing for me. wohooo.

  Cool. I part company with german dude of intense coolness for the second time, sit down on a bench wincing as i realize it is covered in something nasty, causing my butt to fuse with it. I peel myself off the bench and go next door to a dodgy looking eatery with a german shepherd tied up in front of it on a very short leash.  I walk in, look at the food on display, stare dumbfounded at the very german menu trying to figure what the item is by looking at its price, and establish that the shopkeeper speaks no english at all.

    After a drawn out episode of charades involving much pointing and thumbs up, and two euros later, I am sitting outside the shop at a table with a Durer (theres an umlaut in there somewhere, in fact, i think there might be an umlaut in umlaut) and a glass of warm tap water.  The german shepherd looks at me placidly.  

    The Durer is incredible. I cannot believe it is only two euros.  The dog goes nuts at two bikes and tries to devour a beagle but is foiled by a short leash.  I finish the Durer, read for a bit, and then head back over to the laundromat. I start to transfer my damp clothes to the drier when german dude of intense coolness sticks his head in and asks if i would like to have a cup of coffee. I waste no time in agreeing.

    We go next door to the dodgy durer shop and get some iced tea. I guess cofee is actually an arbitrary term for any beverage not containing alcohol that people drink while conversing. Except in japan, where it is tea. Turns out the guys nome is Wolfgang, how cool is that, and he is a programmer for a firm that specializes is simulating industrial drills. He has a sister in the US whom he was separated from at birth and just recently discovered. Apparently both he and his sister were illegitimate children, and his grandparents would not tolerate two. Wolfgang got the boot, and ended up being adopted by a different couple.  Really a pretty cool guy.  The german shepherd goes berserk again, making it perfectly clear that were it not for that damned leash he would have ripped out the jugular of that biker. We continue to talk, and since i have memorized the interview questions (as a part of the trip we are required to conduct two interviews) and work them into the conversation. Here is a write up of it:

-- begin paste of interview --

1: How would you describe germany? It's people? The country as a whole?

a. You cannot really describe germany or it's people, because it is not one country. It is a combination of many little kingdoms that have been conquered or united over the years. People are different from all over germany, and it is far too broad to make such a generalization.  

2: What are your Views of the US? The people of the US?

a. Wolfgang is kind of hesitant to answer, but I keep on prodding him. You are lucky that you are asking me, i think many people in germany are not able to tell the difference between the american government and the american people.  I think the current government is not very good with foreign policy, or even policy within the US. It seems to have no concern for environmental issues, and does not really seem to care too much about the world.  It kind of worries me because really, there is only one superpower left, and that is america.  What seems to be happening more and more is that america will just go off and do whatever it wants, and there really isn't anyone around that can stop them.

    The american people are hard to generalize.  (Do you know of any stereotypes that are common to germany?)  Stereotypes... yes.  For one, americans seem to have trouble talking about sex. The clinton incident was funny, but so was the superbowl thing. Europeans do not really think that kind of stuff is a big deal.  Another one would be arrogance, i don't really think that one needs too much explaining. Also, ignorance seems to be a big problem. I was reading in national geographic that in a survey of american 9th- 11th graders, 70% of them could not find Iraq on a world map. And this is not just any country, this is Iraq, a country where your people have forces committed.

3. What is your view of the EU and european integration?

a. I think it is a very good thing. It has increased trade and made travel between different countries very easy. It also makes things more peaceful, i think that there is no longer even the possibility of warring between european states.  I guess one bad thing about integration and the facilitation of trade is that many jobs and factories are moving to the east, where labor is cheaper.

 -- What about the recent addition of 10 new members on May 1st?

  I think that it is a good thing. Although we will be carrying their economies along for awhile, and it will take a while for them to catch up, we had to bring them in eventually, and i think it is for the better that we brought them in now, and can help them get back on their feet.

  -- Thats really cool that you view it in that way. I think that in the US we would not even consider integrating with a weaker country for fear that they would weaken our economy. Instead, you seem to want to help these people.

  Yes, i think that the EU is a very good thing.  I think that eventually, we may even see something like the United States of Europe

4. You had mentioned earlier that with the dropping of trade barriers, some jobs have been going to the east, where labor is cheaper. This is something that has been going on in the world, you see many factory type jobs moving to southeast asia, especially china.  This is all part of something called  globalization. As shipping gets cheaper, and trade barriers are drop, the world gets smaller. We start to see an even more integrated economy. Also an issue is the presence of nationwide corporations and franchises such as McDonalds and KFC. You can go to Thailand, a poor country incredibly different from the US and find a KFC.

 a. Yes, that is a difficult question. Even in germany if you look at the bottom of any toy you usually see made in china.  Although it may seem that at the present those workers are being exploited, in the past most workers have started out as exploited. I think that eventually they will be able to uprise, and start to demand better treatment.

5. Your English is incredible, and it seems like many people in germany speak very good english. Why is this? How is it tought in the schools?

a. Many people start learning english from first grade, it is a very popular language. Taking a foreign language is mandatory in almost all schools, and some people even take 2. French and spanish is also fairly popular. Some schools even have italian.

-- end paste of interview

During the course of our conversation, the GS flips out a few more time. Some dude from the dodgy durer shop comes out and speaks to it sternly, and then gives it a fresh bowl of water. GS returns to terrorizing the passerby. 

  I say goodbye to Wolfgang and return to the hotel.  We all go out to eat, nothing too fancy apart from being buffet style and all you can eat.  We then go to check out checkpoint charlie, the third of three points where people could pass from east into west germany (the first two being alpha and bravo).  Museum is interesting, many true stories of people risking their lives for freedom, quite moving really. People building ultralights from tech manual and junkyard parts, climbing over power lines, families scraping together hot air balloons, digging tunnels, everything you can think of to get to the west.

    After that i came back to the hotel and got some sleep.

    End day 7

-- Day 8 - Monday, June 7th --

    Woke up today and went for a jog while everyone else went to the station to get their luggage.  Found another neat park and ran around it for awhile, to my knowledge though there is no royalty associated with this one.  One thing i have been noticing though is the ever-presence of graffiti  in berlin.  Perhaps it is because we are staying primarily on the east side, but almost every building that has not been restored is covered in graffiti. I just imagine all these pre-89 east berliners pissed at life somehow acquiring spray paint and covering everything they can. Too bad i don't read german.  

    We meet up with our tour guide, Martin. Very, very cool guy.  He redoes most of the tour the woman from yesterday botched and then takes us out to potsdam. Not only was the town quaint and quite cool, we also walk around Cecielienoff and Sans Souci. Cecielienoff was cool in the english style, lots of useless chimneys. It was also the site of the potsdam conference after WWII. Actually, that is probably the only thing that put it on the map. None the less, it is always interesting being somewhere that was a major part of history.  It is cool just to stand in front of a wall and think Stalin, Churchill, and Truman sat here and drew lines all over germany that changed the lives of everyone in the country.

    We then go to visit Sans Souci. Apparently this was the vacation home of Frederick II, also called frederick the great.  This guy was pretty interesting. Although he widened Prussia's borders considerably in many different wars, he was also a great fan of philosophy and music. He constructed Sans Souci (which means no worries) as a type of summer retreat, where he could study music and philosophy, and also eat figs all day long.  Actually, I think it was just so he could eat figs all the time. The entire back yard of the palace is composed of fountains, and more importantly, a multi-level terrace with glass-enclosed compartments in the terrace walls where Fred would grow, you guessed it, fig trees.

    Of course, in addition to this fred II held musical concerts, in which he played pieces he composed, as well as philosophical debates attended by such heavyweights as Voltaire, who also liked figs.

    We then ride back into berlin and are set loose in the middle of the city. I walk around for awhile, doing the whole ningen-watching thing. I finally park my but in a seat that was part of an outside cafee belonging primarily to McDonalds and typed on my laptop while watching all the people go by.

    After this we eat, return to the hotel and chill for the rest of the night. I abuse the internet some more, looking into ticket prices for trains from Munich to Venice. I feel kind of bad because Carrie came down wanting to use the internet, and I told her i would be done in a few minutes.  I then proceed to get sucked into the information vortex for an unknown period of time. I come out of my daze long enough to notice Carrie walking away... i am a jerk. I'll apologize to her tomorrow.

    After that, peter makes fun of me for quite awhile, calling me a jerk for monopolizing the net connection. This continues until some more people come down the stairs wanting to see the end of the world flash. I show this, then i also show the Woo-Woo thing, to most people's amusement. Bubb-Rubb and Lil'Sis never fail.  

    I then show Chris Farley and Mike Meyer's japanese gameshow skit from SNL. Peter was laughing so hard he was crying. It was ridiculous.  After sharing more mind rotting flash cartoons to eager victims (think badger badger badger ... mushroom) I go to bed. End day 8.

-- Day 9 - Tuesday, June 8th 2004 -- 

    No jog this morning, today will be a sit in the bus day, and the last time I went jogging before one of these my legs were useless for the next couple of days. This is a good feeling, but it can be kind of frustrating knowing that objects you could usually jump over, or heights you could normally jump off of are now best avoided.  Made me act like a normal person for all of paris. ANYHOW.

    We depart at 9, thanks to Vykke taking the initiative and phoning Dale's room ahead of time.  Actually, he was still a little late, and we left at about 9:10.  We then ride 2+ hours to Dresden, a pretty little town that was reduced to liquid stone by RAF firebombs during WWII.  Some of the major structures remained somewhat intact though, and have since been restored. This includes the Zwinger palace of Augustus the Strong.  For a name like 'Augustus the Strong' you would expect this guys thing to be war and conquering, or maybe gladiator combat.  Nope. Porcelain.  Zwinger is now a museum dedicated to all manner of chinese, japanese, and 18th century european porcelain. I usually shy away from porcelain in museums and galleries. I think that because of all the fancy china in my grandparents house i have developed a distaste for it. Despite this, Zwinger was enjoyable. The palace was beautiful, and the porcelain was actually pretty cool.  Even aside from the traditional pots and plates which were quite intricately painted, with delicate gold leafing and multicolor murals, there was a zoo composed entirely of animals made out of porcelain. It was actually quite weird - it reminded me of the hall of the mountain kind (or whatever) in Return to Oz in a queer sort of way. I should see that movie again.

    Our departure is once again delayed by dale being late, but we are all used to it by now =)  Continue travelling to Czech and Prague. - Imagine four hours of me sitting in the bus alternating between reading and gaping at incredibly beautiful and increasingly mountainous countryside - 

    Prague. We check in, eat, and deal with the mundane. Then Peter, Bob, and I take the U (subway) into Prague.  Prague is incredibly cool. I know that must be sounding stupid by now, since I have said it about every city so far, but Prague takes the case as far as atmosphere and charm go.  The winding cobblestone streets hemmed close by tall 18th and 19th century european architecture, the sheer amount of smiling people, the soft artistic lighting spread all over town, and quite a few things undefined come together to create a lively, romantic city.  Imagine all of the positive stereotypes americans have of Europe as flower petals.  Scatter these petals on top of water, boil it, directing the mist through a pipe which eventually turns downward into an iced pot and starts coiling.  The hot steam/mist will condense upon hitting the ice-cooled section of tubing and form a fluid which, when left to sit at room temperature will separate into two fluids.  Most of it is useless. But the thin layer of fluid that has risen above this useless crap is essence of Europe, and it is what Prague is made out of.  Incidentally, the same procedure, with actual flower petals instead of stereotypes, is used to produce perfume.

    Peter and I walk around Prague at night for awhile.  Some too-hip looking chick asks us if we smoke weed, Peter is intrigued by the sex machine museum, I piss off a healthy looking beggar by giving him a euro-penny (he actually threw it away, guess he wasn't that bad off), and bob hits a perfectly defenseless plastic cow.  We walk from Muzeum (spelled like that) across town, cross the river by walking over some nameless bridge and cross back via the Karluv bridge.  Karluv was completed sometime in the 15th century, and then covered with Baroque statues during 18th century.  It also is romantic and made of the 'essence of europe' stuff described earlier.

    We then come home. As i write this i try listening to Emminem again.  After three songs I delete the entire album. I finish writing this listening to Evanescence.  End day 9.

-- Day 10 - Wednesday June 10th, 2004 --

    Well, today we do the 'official' tour of prague. The tour guide essentially covers the same sights that we saw in the evening, with the major addition of the national palace and the neo-gothic cathedral attached to it.  The palace is fairly cool, but i find the city more interesting.  The cathedral is impressive in scale and design, and although it is almost indistinguishable from a true gothic cathedral, it does not hold the same air of holiness that imbued Notre Damme and Canterbury.  The stained glass windows are more ornate, and with richer colors, but have less charm, and a tribute from the patron (read advertisement for a bank or insurance firm) built into it.  This is not to say that it was not enjoyable - it was. I even stared at the ceiling, long enough to notice that the columns really did not need to meet at the top.  Although this allows for a funkier design, it also drives home the fact that the people building neo-gothic churches did not have to work anywhere near as hard as the poor saps who poured their lives into the originals. 

    After the palace and chapel we descend the hill and walk through Prague. It is as cool by day as it was by night.  No more perfume-creation process analogies. at least not for a couple of days, it's hard work.  The guide takes us through prague and across the Karluv bridge, this time giving us some history. Apparently the baroque statues lining both sides are replicas. The originals, having been deemed priceless cultural artifacts are tucked away in a museum.  If a person were more observant than myself, they would have noticed that certain parts of a plinth located in the center of the bridge were polished clean by friction from the hands of countless superstitious people.  This observant person would most likely then suppose that the character resting upon this plinth, a saintly looking man with an aura of five stars, was pretty important.  Apparently, this person was St Nepacum (i must be spelling that wrong, lack of a constant internet connection hurts), a confessor priest who refused to reveal the confessions of the queen, and was thus drowned by the king.  When his body resurfaced, it was said to be surrounded by five stars, thus the five stars depicted in the statue.  According to the guide, this Nepocum (maybe one of these spellings will be correct) is the patron saint of Bulgaria, and touching him will bring you luck.  I too got in line and touched the shiny spot. 

    After this the guide ditches us in the old square.  I head off by myself and wander around for awhile, just digging the coolness that is prague.  Different kanji by day, brighter and more festive.  As the sky darkens, i find a ghetto internet cafe and wait out the brief rain by diving into the internet, talking with the cool people in Rosa.  

    As the storm ends, I again hit the streets and decide to ride a tram for awhile.  When i live in a city for awhile, i develop an instinctual feel for it, kind of like a mental flavor.  Marquette, where i grew up, has the most vivid and well know flavor. I can instantly recall exactly what it feels like to live in marquette, and participate in some of its communities: diving from cliffs into the icy waters of Superior in the summer, and making the best of Marquette Mountain on my snowboard in the winter.  Green bay and Wakayama also have pretty strong flavors to it.  Bangkok and Phnom Phen are fleeting spices that when recalled make my mouth water.  Riding a bus, tram, or train (any slow moving above ground transportation really) tends to make this taste stronger.  When i went down to milwaukee by myself to see if summerfest was really all that cool, i ended up spending a few hours just riding the public bus around, trying to grok the neighborhoods and watching all the people.  This is what i did in prague.  I hopped on the tram, grabbed a seat, and alternated between staring out the window and discreetly observing the other passengers.  At one point i switch trams and end up riding line 23 up a hill towards the palace, and then shoots out into the shabbier sections of prague.  This is similar to what happened in milwaukee. I picked up a bus in the shiny business district. 15 minutes later i was going through the dirt-lawn ghetto.  The buildings started to tend more towards soviet architecture, or rather, soviet lack of architecture.  The tram comes to a turnabout at the end of the line. Everyone except me pours out.  The doors close. The driver runs away. I am alone in the tram.  Not to worry, something has to happen eventually. 15 minutes later I am retracing the earlier route.  A young boy with some type of sports case, perhaps lacrosse, gets on the train.  His clothes are clean but well worn, and he has a plastic wiffle-ball threaded through a keyholder attached to the zipper of the case.  He gets out after 2 stops.  Two middle-schoolish girls get on, chat away, giggling, and then get off 90 seconds later at the next stop.

    At some point i hop off the tram and stumble across an organ recital of 'Famous holy pieces' at a baroque cathedral.  a VERY baroque cathedral.  Student price is 100 crowns cheaper than the normal fare. I explain that i do not have my ID, and the guy is cool about it. 290 crowns later and i am sitting inside this gaudy, baroque church, trying and failing to find a comfortable way to sit in a church pew.  As i wait for the performance to begin, i stare at the gold-leaf covered statues of buff angels slaying things, or lighting bolts crashing down, or saints emitting holiness. It is actually quite cool.

    The recital is good but not fantastic. Oh well, i had never really had a chance to appreciate live organ music, and this was a good experience.  I have one hour until I am supposed to meet the remainder of the group in Valascev square, so I decide to check out the Medieval torture museum.  It is cool, disturbing, and in some places morbidly funny.  Not a good time to be a witch or a heretic.  Or rather, not a good time to be suspected of being a witch or a heretic, which really boils down to not a good time to be unpopular or different.

    I am back at the square at 8.  I sit for 20 minutes, no one appears.  40 minutes, and still no one appears.  At some point during the 40 hours in which i sat in the shadow of Valascev's massive equestrian statue a goth-ish chick sits down on the bench across for me.  Thinking that i have not talked to any of the locals yet, i try to talk to her.  She starts out by saying that her english is not very good.  She then goes on to say that her boyfriend is meeting her here.  I realize that she has no interest in talking, and leave her alone. I find out later that everybody else was actually across the street from me, and after waiting for 20 minutes or so went off on their own. oh well, i should have been clearer when specifying the meeting spot.  After waiting for an hour i take the Metro back to the hotel.  

    I arrive at Chodov station at the same time the skies start to piss down extremely large droplets of rain.  Since it is somewhat of a walk from the station, i take a look at the bus schedule to see if there is a bus which will get me closer to the hotel.  It all means very little to me, so i say hello and then apologize to an intelligent looking girl standing next to the schedule. After determining that she speaks english, i ask her if she knows anything about the bus system, and if there is one which will get me closer to Eurohotel Praha.  She knows nothing.  Fortunately, after repeated mentions of 'Eurohotel Praha' by both myself and intelli-girl, an ultra-hip looking fella with a stylishly shaved head disengages from his girlfriend long enough to say 'Eurohotel Praha?'

    After establishing that this is the same EHP that is next to the KFC, Punk-dude relays directions in Czech to intelli-girl who relays them to me in english, and even writes them down on a pad of paper for me. I go back into the Underground, ride to the next station, bother a french gentleman and another pleasant czech person for further directions, hop on a bus, and arrive at the KFC adjacent to our hotel a few minutes later. Friendly people. 

-- Day 11 - Thursday June 11th, 2004 --

    Day 11 officially consists of transit to the capital of Hungary, Budapest.  This fails to happen. We are all in the bus at 9, with the exception of peter. I am nominated to go up to the room and determine the situation. After failing to elicit any kind of a response with a polite knocking, I slam my fist into the door a few times.  'Whaaat....'

    'Vykee says you have two minutes to be on the bus'

    'Vhat time is ittt...'    

    Five after Nine.

    'Five after WHAT?????' shit..

Apparently he had mis-diagnosed his sleep pills.  He comes down to the bus a few minutes later.  As we pull away from the hotel, Vykke goes nuerotic thinking that she has forgotten her passport and tears apart all of her luggage to find it safe and sound in the outermost pocket of her fox racing bag (on a side note, i find it hilarious that she wears a little fox racing backpack-purse. apparently she purchased it at some sort of surplus store).  Anyhow, passport found, crises averted.

    Three hours or so later, Peter realizes that he forgot to get his passport back from the hotel.  Hilarity ensues.  We are allowed into slovakia, but they do not let us out, and the bus must go back to the capital of slovakia, Blatislava, so peter can try to work something out at the hungarian embassy located there.  I find this all ridiculously funny, but most of the other people involved (read: an entire bus including director, driver, and students) were a little unhappy. Oh well, I now have 2 hours with which to taste Blatislava

    First of all, the Slovaks seem to be very nationalistic, and have a little bit of a rivalry going with the Czechs.  You may have heard of Czechoslovakia. You may even still use this term. The Czechs probably wouldn't care, but the slovaks are a little touchy about it. Example: We cross the border, entering Slovakia. The gaurd gets touchy after finding out that we spent 2 days in Prague, but are (planning on) cruising right through slovakia without so much as a stop.  'What, is our capital not pretty enough? We have history too!'

    As i wander around the city i come to a small market featuring a few restaurants and food sellers.  People are really friendly. In europe, many times you must pay to use the bathroom. The fee is usually somewhere between 30 and 50 cents.  The restroom at this market area was no exception.  Figuring that it was not really worth acquiring too much Slovak currency for 2 hours, i have none.  I show the girl guarding the bathrooms a double handful of assorted currency: euro, US, Czech Crowns, even some hungarian, and smile sheepishly. She just laughs and waves me into the bathroom. Cool people.

    I walk into a cafe and see some unknown pastries.  I ask if they will take euro. I offer Czech crown, trying to get rid of it.  They scoff in scorn. I offer euro, they think for a moment and then shake their heads apologetically. I show them the rest of my assorted currency and they laugh at me. Then, wonder of wonders, a random woman who happened to be shopping at the same pastry shop said the word euro mixed with a slurry of Slovak, and started digging out Slovakian crowns.  I figure what the heck and pool a bunch of euro in my hands. She then takes euro and gives me Slovakian crown instead. Crowns acquired, i buy pastries. Mission accomplished.  Very cool people.

    After this, i continue to walk around Blatislava.  Not really enough time to get the feel of the city, but it is enjoyable. I pass a square in which some old dude is jamming away on a guitar and singing folky sounding tunes in what i assume to be slovak.  There are many elderly people dancing as energetically as their joints will allow them.

    By this time i have sighted the castle on the top of the hill, and simply must reach it.  45 minutes or so and a few liters of sweat later, I have reached the castle and stand in front of an incredible vantage point of the city.  Neighborhoods of quaintly random, narrow streets are sliced by modern 4 lane.  Old architecture in the historical style suffuses the center of the city except for the occasional futuristic bank or department store.  In the distance the stacks of the industrial quarter serrate the horizon. All in all a very pretty city.  I then jog back to the bus and we continue the journey to Budapest.

    Upon reaching the border, it at first seems that all of peter's trouble at the embassy was in vain.  The guards do not seem willing to let us through.  Karel, the driver, goes over and talks with him. 5 minutes later he comes back, grabs some cold cokes and beer.  The next thing i see is the guard walking back to the hut, handing his co-worker half the loot and opening the gate. Whatever works. It takes us Coke, Beer, and Money to get across the hungarian border. 

    Arrive: Budapest.  After greeting the hotel manager, Vykke comes back to the bus and mockingly reads the 'rules' to us.  No loud partying past 10. No disturbing the neighborhood. No disturbing the people of the neighborhood, or their pets.  No throwing of pets out of windows... after that it goes downhill, but you get the point. Wacked out rules. Apparently the last group of americans they had did everything they could to foster international good will. Oh well, the list sure was funny.

    I think i'll end day 11 here.

--- Day 12 - Friday, June 11th ---

    0630: awaken.  I decide to jog up the mountain overshadowing our hotel.  I take a gradual route that takes me up the side at an incline which is still tolerable to jog at, and provides me with an excellent view of the city.  Budapest stretches out below me, but there is little to define the view from this side of the mountain, just city.  I have since been told that hungary has 2.15 million people, somehow it seems much bigger, buildings covering the land which can be built upon as far as the eye can see, with only the national parks and steeper parts of the hills escaping development.  There is still a healthy amount of green, but the way hungary is laid out makes it appear more populous than it really is.  I come across a fortified castle at the top of the mountain, apparently it at one point was a garrison, prison, and is now a tourist center and dance club.  At one end of the palisade, overlooking the danube, where once stood a USSR monument to the 'unknown soviet soldier' now stands three statues in tribute to liberty and freedom.  

    I head back down the mountain and discover that I have no idea where I am.  I really need to get a clue when it comes to navigating mountains. First the fuji incident, now this.  Okay, i traverse the base awhile until i actually reach a bridge on the danube and realize that this is futile. I climb back up the mountain, and as i enjoy the view once more i attempt to backtrack. Unfortunately, due to the circling nature of my ascent i cannot remember exactly what path i took to get up.  Trusting to instinct i head to the base and am greeted by yet another unknown locale. Whatever. Right feels good. I jog for about 20 more minutes and discover our hotel.  The next time i navigate a steep area I am not going to get cutesy trying to form neat little circles through unknown territory ( i can usually do this on flat ground ).  Actually, it was kind of fun. I enjoy getting lost, and this exposed me to a quite a few views i may have not otherwise had the opportunity to enjoy.

    Our guide for the day is a kind, well meaning old lady that is completely batty. She drives karel (the coach driver) nuts by giving him last minute directions. This is bad enough when driving a car in tolerable traffic.  Navigating a 12 meter bus through the congested streets of budapest, trying to follow the often times impossible (a 12 meter bus does not have the best turning radius) directions of our cooky guide had karel getting quite angsty. I found the entire situation quite hilarious.  

    We have a two hour break for lunch. Having heard that Budapest was famous for its 'thermal waters' and hot springs, i decide to go to a bath house. There are two within walking distance, I go to both.  They are both closed for renovation. Whatever. While walking around marveling at all the restoration i smell something incredibly delicious cooking and eventually wander towards a restaurant.  I take a seat on the patio and stare at the menu for awhile, eventually just asking the waiter what the best tradtional hungarian meal available was.  This ends up being cold smoked wild boar with horseradish sauce for an appetizer, and a mix of pheasant, wild stag, and what i take to be more wild boar for the main course. If you hadn't guessed by now, hungary has a rich tradition of gaming. 

    While i am waiting for the meal to be prepared, some guy comes in, receives a menu, and plops a lonely planet book down on his table. Hrmm... probably speaks english. 

    'I'm sorry, do you speak english?'

    'Yes actually..'

    'Would you like some company while eating?'

    And this is how i ended up spending the two hour break eating exquisite hungarian wild-game delicacies and chatting with the american chemical engineer turned programmer living in munich: Ted.  Ted is a pretty cool guy, and had some cool views. One of the few people i have talked who do not think that a CS degree is becoming less valuable in the us. According to some of the sources he has read, the major analyst group pushing outsourcing owns an outsourcing firm, and thus their reporting is not entirely unbiased.  It seems that some companies are actually having problems with the practice, and that it does not save as much money as the aforementioned analyst group would like the market to believe.  Ahh, more conflicting information. Who to believe?

    Couch is now en route to St Andrews, an upstream hamlet that was once separated by budapest but has since been absorbed to some degree.  On the way there, our guide Lana pushes Karel closer to the breaking point by giving him more impossible directions.  She also points out quite a bit of soviet architecture.  These buildings, like all soviet-era constructions, are essentially featureless shoe boxes that disrupt the scenery with their oppressive disregard of aesthetics.  In this case, the shoe boxes are population centers. When originally constructed, the individual apartments were not only tiny, but they lacked a kitchen. The idea behind this was to force the parents to eat at the factories and children to eat at school, thus fragmenting the family and making everyone more susceptible to observation.  Orwell anyone?  Throughout the entire tour it is obvious how bitter Lana is,  this woman definitely did not like living under the soviets.  I try to get more details from her, but she is strangely guarded, and i do not want to offend her.  I resolve to do more reading on what life was like in the east during the communist era.  What must it have been like to scar people so deeply, and cause others, such as in east berlin, to resent it so much that they execute the craziest schemes trying to escape.  I imagine the joy that is perceivable in many of the escape stories featured at checkpoint charlie inverted into a dull, deadening emotion that continues year after year, and this probably still fails to describe what these people must have felt.

    St andrews is a quaint little town largely untainted by the soviets.  It has the feel of a village, with cozy one or two level whitewashed houses roofed with red shingling, cobblestone streets, and wooden footbridges crossing tiny streams.  Lana takes us up a winding stairway/alley way just wider than my shoulders which leads up a hill to the courtyard of a quaint little church.  After more wandering and a brief rest by the river we come to the Marzipan museum.  Marzipan is a type of putty-like frosting that is made of (REFERENCE - MARZIPAN) and is frequently used for extremely decorative cakes and the like. The marzipan museum features more impressive works of marzipan - for example a life size sculpture of Michael Jackson (featuring white chocolate), nativity scenes, entire gardens of incredible complexity, the ninja turtles with party wagon, etc.  Pretty cool place.

    We are to travel back to budapest by boat down the danube. The fifteen minute journey by bus to the dock includes a few more instances of me falling off the seat laughing at the lana-karel interface.  What makes it even funnier is that Karel speaks Czech and German, Lana Hungarian and English.  Notice that there is no overlap.  By this time the whole front of the bus is laughing almost as hard as I am. Feeling sorry for lana, i try to explain that we are laughing at the situation instead of her, and that we certainly are not laughing at her command of english, which is far far better than anyone's ability to speak hungarian (peter not being on the bus at the moment).

    The boat ride down the river is pretty chilled. Lana is quiet and there are no DVD audio guides, no factual data to process. Instead of historic landmarks there are trees, some locals swimming in the river, a random child crossing a massive railroad bridge on foot, and a few nice houses.  Although the danube is a murky brown in color, it is actually far cleaner than say, the fox river.  Yet another thing which amazes me about europe: they actually care about their environment, at a government level! Even though the EU is essentially a political body primarily concerned with finances and economics, it does not put profit before something like turning a primary river into a fetid sewer of paper mill by-product. 

    The boat rounds a curve in the Danube and i am struck by how beautiful Budapest truly is.  Directly in front is the neo-gothic monstrosity they call parliament, every part of it straining towards heaven.  The palisade and it's monument to victory  tower in the distance, past the 19th century 'chain bridge'.

    We re-unite with peter at dinner, other than that the most eventful thing that happens is me swiping numerous carafes of cold water: Budapest is extremely warm during the summer and as a result the entire table spent the day sweating.

    After dinner peter is looking for someone to walk around budapest with him, so i volunteer. On the way out of the restaurant we run into a table of drunken scotsmen in kilts. Apparently, you can find bands of scotsmen in any european city, usually at some sort of establishment which serves alcohol, all of them wearing their kilts.  As some girl was taking of the revelers, I and the rest of the people in the room ended up verifying that yes, a scotsman does not wear anything under his kilt. 

    Peter and i walk through budapest as the sun is setting. Well, I walk, peter sort of moves from one picture-shooting-vantage-point to another, talking to me when in transit and asking me to make any shots that are too difficult for his kodak-easyshare.  Along the way peter remarks that europe is so classy even McDonalds has a facade featuring corinthian columns.

    We eventually make our way across the chain bridge which is guarded by the statues of four lions, two on either end. Apparently, the legend goes that way back in eighteen-whatever, when the chief architect finished the bridge and was formally presenting it to the king and the public he was so confident in the work that he boasted that if anything were incomplete, he would kill himself.  An old woman piped up "What about the lions? They don't have any tongues." And with that the architect drowned himself by jumping into the Danube. kind of a cute story.  Anyhow, as we are walking between these two lions i notice that there is text carved into the plinth of each and ask peter what it means.  Peter explains that they are messages placed their by the soviets, thanking the soviet armies and the party for the liberation of the people of hungary.  He is suddenly very unhappy and goes on for some time about how terrible it is that this has not been removed. Even though most soviet era monuments have been removed, this remains.  Again the bitterness. And again the seeming unwillingness to talk about it.