so. here's the thing. so far i've been really good about staying out of trouble on my journey. that's not to say there haven't been some close calls. i mean, gotta say -- when your mom tells you not to follow strangers out at night down dodgy streets without phoning a friend she means it... but aussies are harmless, right? suffice it to say that adventure ended with the single most amazing pizza and beer i've ever had. ever. but that's really because it took us an hour to find it and by that point i would have eaten anything.
even pepperoni.
but don't worry, i'm not making it a point to follow dodgy commonwealthers around... i promise never to take any canadian advice while in europe.
so that was a taste of update part 1, but part 2 gets better. so i've stayed out of trouble, and i've even mostly avoided embarassing myself and my country with stupid questions and obnoxiously loud flet american accents. when i arrived in prague it was raining. hard. i did NOT bring the right gear. people were looking at my kinda funny with my flip flops and shorts on so i figured it was worth the 10kc to have a change in the bathroom. weatherproof, check. headed out to find my hostel (naturally was too cheap and stubborn to ask for directions so just followed the general flow of traffic until i was so soaked i couln't bear the suspense any longer. found it through the entrance way of a chinese shop -- whoda thunk?) after this i figured "hey, i'm already soaked, why not take a walking tour of prague?" which i duly did. managed to hike up to the castle (sarah, there are lots of trees. which one is the one i'm supposed to see for you?) where my film ran out immediately. probably for the best, it's too pretty to try and capture with a camera (even a fabulous lomo, thanks d). as i'm getting a bit tired of the rain and wind, and well aware that the castle is about to shut for the night, i ran into this tiny old lady berating a couple of obviously confused czech police. see, she only speaks spanish and they only speak czech so.. trouble. but no need to fear, the yank speaks spanish well enough to know when she's needed so i got from the lady that she'd been lost by her tour group and didn't know where she was staying or where they were and wadda wadda ruh roh. so, this is about 6pm. the police (actually the castle guard) are not psyched to try and help so i volunteer some assistance. sweet. except for by 7pm we have neither found her group nor anyone else who is remotely close to spanish and she's crying so i'm on the verge of tears because really???! what do you do? so finally i took her to a police station where there was a guy who seemed to know what to do and she wouldn't let me leave her until finally he convinced her he was capable of finding her group. i just hope that ended well because it was not a fun adventure. in the rain. and the cold. and you're a lost little old lady? jeeeeez.
Yank's adventures in Europe part 1
I admit that when I first booked my trip to Europe I had an incredibly romanticized idea of backpacking and staying at “hostels”. I was aware of the potential to be not at all ready to start my trip. You’d think after three years of traveling back and forth to the States and South Africa I’d have some clue as to get around unknown territories, but no – I was pretty clueless. I still am.
When I arrived at the Munich airport I pretended as well as I could like I knew what I was doing. In reality, it was at this point that I realized exactly how unprepared I was to do the traveling I’d hoped to do. No city map, no rail map, only an address for my hostel and a general idea of how to get from the airport to the metro. So I just sat for a minute in the departure terminal pretending to be reorganizing my bag (when really I was to befuddled to attempt any course of action). Of course, as I am a particularly proud American, I wanted to avoid at all costs actually asking for directions. Unfortunately after several attempts at using an automated machine to buy a subway pass I gave in and went to the information services – where the rest of the outlanders were lined up looking helpless and confused. The lady looked a bit concerned to be selling me an all-access pass to the Munchen underground – I’d been traveling for a while, by then, and not looking my most responsible – but she did, and off I went into the great unknown: the U Bahn.
Thank the Germans for being organized and put together. Everywhere you looked on the underground was another subway map and points of reference. The problem is, of course, that subway maps are in no ways accurate representations of streets or buildings or even directions. That just meant that by the time I’d left the metro station I circumnavigated that particular city block about 2 times before finally getting my bearings. Finger to the wind.
In the end, of course, I found my hostel, had a shower, change of clothes, breakfast, etc. Did I mention my flight got in at 6am? No one should have to scavenge in a new city that early in the morning.
Munich in a word: sterile. It’s been over 60 years since Munich was practically destroyed by Allied bombing in World War II and yet the Munchkins have held onto as much of their cultural heritage as possible – by rebuilding every single destroyed structure in perfect replicas of what they once looked like. So much of Munich is rebuilt, in fact, that my tour guide made us guess what four structures (not buildings, structures) had withstood the test of time. None of us could. The Germans are awfully good at making new things look old – if they’re so inclined.
Other notable aspects of Munich? Yes, they wear lederhosen; yes they serve pretzels in beergartens; and yes, they were the birthplace of the Nazi movement. Like Disneyland, really, with grumpy nationalists. Possibly the coolest part of Munich – besides the huge BMW museum – were the 1 euro Sunday entries to all national museums. I saw every famous Dutch and Flemish artist ever for 1 euro. I also saw Van Gogh’s sunflowers in person – for one euro. Not a bad way to spend R20. I also managed to eat pizza and watch soccer (a tradition I carried to every city I visited on this journey).
When I arrived at the Munich airport I pretended as well as I could like I knew what I was doing. In reality, it was at this point that I realized exactly how unprepared I was to do the traveling I’d hoped to do. No city map, no rail map, only an address for my hostel and a general idea of how to get from the airport to the metro. So I just sat for a minute in the departure terminal pretending to be reorganizing my bag (when really I was to befuddled to attempt any course of action). Of course, as I am a particularly proud American, I wanted to avoid at all costs actually asking for directions. Unfortunately after several attempts at using an automated machine to buy a subway pass I gave in and went to the information services – where the rest of the outlanders were lined up looking helpless and confused. The lady looked a bit concerned to be selling me an all-access pass to the Munchen underground – I’d been traveling for a while, by then, and not looking my most responsible – but she did, and off I went into the great unknown: the U Bahn.
Thank the Germans for being organized and put together. Everywhere you looked on the underground was another subway map and points of reference. The problem is, of course, that subway maps are in no ways accurate representations of streets or buildings or even directions. That just meant that by the time I’d left the metro station I circumnavigated that particular city block about 2 times before finally getting my bearings. Finger to the wind.
In the end, of course, I found my hostel, had a shower, change of clothes, breakfast, etc. Did I mention my flight got in at 6am? No one should have to scavenge in a new city that early in the morning.
Munich in a word: sterile. It’s been over 60 years since Munich was practically destroyed by Allied bombing in World War II and yet the Munchkins have held onto as much of their cultural heritage as possible – by rebuilding every single destroyed structure in perfect replicas of what they once looked like. So much of Munich is rebuilt, in fact, that my tour guide made us guess what four structures (not buildings, structures) had withstood the test of time. None of us could. The Germans are awfully good at making new things look old – if they’re so inclined.
Other notable aspects of Munich? Yes, they wear lederhosen; yes they serve pretzels in beergartens; and yes, they were the birthplace of the Nazi movement. Like Disneyland, really, with grumpy nationalists. Possibly the coolest part of Munich – besides the huge BMW museum – were the 1 euro Sunday entries to all national museums. I saw every famous Dutch and Flemish artist ever for 1 euro. I also saw Van Gogh’s sunflowers in person – for one euro. Not a bad way to spend R20. I also managed to eat pizza and watch soccer (a tradition I carried to every city I visited on this journey).
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