A very occasional travelogue, but mostly the thoroughly engrossing musings and unlikely adventures of two cross-oriented life companions who don't really like you even though they say they do. By the way, how's that novel coming...you know, the novel you have been working on...working on for three years...
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Amsterdam-Munich-Interlaken
We have had very limited internet access so I will have to be brief.
Amsterdam rocked. A very beautiful city made even better by getting to have dinner with my dear friends the Van Adrichems. They showed us a great time, which I promise to write more about when I return.
We are in Munich now. We spent a weekend in Switzerland, in Interlaken. So beautiful I would have stayed if only I knew how. We love Munich and comment at least once a day to each other, "I could live here."
I promise a detailed and much more interesting wrap up when I get home. We are back in the states Thursday afternoon.
Go to Bruges. Seriously. Don't question me on this. Just get on a plane and somehow find yourself in Bruges. Do it. Okay, that is not realistic so what I will say is, "Go to Belgium - visit Brussels for a day and then get to Bruges." We went to Bruges yesterday for just a day trip and the general vote was we would all have rather stayed there. It was beautiful. The buildings all look medieval and the chocolate was the best ever. Even the chicken tasted better in Bruges. We took a quick boat tour through the canals. We gazed upon swans and ducks and castle-y looking things. We found a bar (across the street from the restaurant The Hobbit, next to The Tolkien cafe) that has 300 Belgian beers for your drinking pleasure. I had a fantastic raspberry beer and dreamily planned of hiding out in Bruges forever. It was a really, really, very good day.
Heading to Amsterdam today and will be in the hugging arms of our dear friends the Van Adrichems before the weekend is up. Hoo-ray!!
Well we made it to Brussels and have been here for 2 full days now. Gotta say - we aren't overwhelmed. Our hotel is decent but the city is a bit, well, sketchy. Lots and lots of dudes just hanging out on corners and in alleys. Girls are advised not to venture out alone and our boys are making sure that is the case. We spent the first day wandering aimlessly and found the town square which is so amazingly beautiful that it saddened me that it is in Brussels. The town is so dirty to be center of the EU and to be home to such a fantastic grouping of architecture. (like New Orleans and Jackson Square? maybe?) We laid in the square and then went to the cathedral, where we laid in the grass. We've become quite the lazy bunch. Well, mostly me and Cap, who find the Europeans love of outdoor napping just fine with us. Jim is much better at photographing and checking things out. As it was their National Day of super exciting something or other there were parades and fighter jets flying over. It was a nice day to be in Brussels, if only to see how others celebrate holidays. We paid homage to the great country of Belgium by eating waffles covered in chocolate or strawberries or ice cream or all of the above, followed by beer and dancing in the streets with gay boys to techno dj's. The dancing out of nowhere was so exciting that Jim and I didn't even care when the rain started. That's just how we roll in Europe. No worries. Wet feet. Good music. Tres bien.
It's says that this is Jim, but it is Kelley. We are heading to Brussels in 15 minutes. Once there we plan to eat way too much chocolate and drink beer. Oh, and maybe see the city. We are there until Thursday when we run off to Amsterdam for all manner of legal debauchery. Updates soon...
Here’s the thing about traveling by train. To Americans it seems exotic and romantic. A lazy anachronism free of stress and filled with rolling vistas. Get on when you want, get off when you want. If you miss one train there will be another along shortly: no fuss, no haggling with surly, dismissive ticket agents. You are the master of your own destiny on a train. You can breath more deeply. Your life’s path’s seems clearer. Surely, the US lost some bit of gentility and culture when it turned away from the rail systems to the impersonal bustle of the interstate highway system.
Bollocks, as the English say.
Like anything that involves the teeming masses of humanity, train travel sucks. And to the uninitiated, it is an incomprehensible babble of signs and signifiers requiring a lifetime to master. What platform is your train leaving from? Who knows? Depends on what platform it arrives on? It will appear on the destination board 2 or 3 minutes before the train is ready to depart.Sit anywhere you like? Sure, as long as its not reserved. How do you know its not reserved? The digital readout will indicate. But don’t get comfortable because the readout is updated at every stop. Well, at least I’ll have a seat. Well, not necessarily. If you can fit in the aisle or toilet or sit on the stored luggage, then welcome abroad. Or maybe you can just sit on your lovers lap the whole way and provide the entire car with a little soft-core entertainment for a couple of hours. It seems likely that the English’s first exposure to sex as a child isn’t on cable like in the states, but on the train.
But the vistas! Oh, the vistas! Building, building, church, field, sheep, sheep, sheep, church, camper, camper, building, building, sheep, sheep, hill, ruin, building, church, sheep. Oh, the vistas.
Then there is the ferry. The ferry is the train without vistas.
And just so you know, I’m being balanced and am willing to reveal flaws as well as sing praises, the English, a long with the rest of the world, have yet to figure out a solution to one of the oldest and most harrowing problems of travel.
Children.
On the ferry, the swift ferry, the swift ferry named Jonathon Swift (wow, huh?), Kelley and I sat next to a family dedicated to fighting tooth and sperm against the leveling off of world population. But apparently their commitment extends only to birth. After that, the kids seem to be on their own. They travel as a group, much like a school of piranha, leaderless and hungry.
Thus Dublin. The first thing you need to know about Dublin if you are committed to traveling there is; don’t reveal your destination to strangers. Upon discovering your intention, strangers feel compelled to warn you off. “Dublin, you say,” as incredulity and, yes, fear begins to fill their eyes. “Why would you be going to Dublin?” Or just “God, Why?” Or “Get out as soon as you can. The countryside is lovely, but Dublin ……” The consensus of opinion seems to be uniform. Unless you are a Joyce-fetishist, there is one reason and one reason only to travel to Dublin: a U2 concert.
It’s a low city, Dublin. No skyscrapers. And brown, faded almost. And dirty. There is trash everywhere: in the street, in the gutter, in the canal, tangled in the masses of seaweed and algae hanging from the canal banks. It should be no surprise Bram Stroker grew up here.
But beyond that it took a day or two to discover the real danger of Dublin. The first night Liz and Cap and Kelley and I went to eat and then had a beer. Liz and I still shaky from our travel decided to call it a night. We told Cap and Kelley to have a good time and headed in.
The next morning Liz and I were kicking ourselves. The night Cap and Kelley had. Well, wow.Barhopping. Meeting friendly, colorful Irishmen completely infatuated with Americans. Singing, dancing, drinking. I could only hang my head in regret and hug Liz in solidarity. But tomorrow night, I silently vowed, tomorrow night, I would embrace Dublin wholeheartedly and drink from the cup of its debauchery.
As you can imagine the day passed slowly. We went looking for Temple Bar. Learn from our mistake. Temple Bar is a street not a bar. Wandering up and down Temple Bar asking where Temple Bar is does nothing to advance the reputation of American abroad. We visited Trinity College. We took the bus tour of the city. We visited the Mecca of Dublin: the Guinness Factory. But in my mind all of it prelude to the night. I could hardly suppress a smile as twilight began to approach. Tonight, I too would know the joy that Kelley and Cap had experienced the night before. I could hear the Bacchanalia calling to me.
One aside. One fact that increased my expectations and apprehension in equal measure; Dublin is city full of people lying in gutters. Not bums either. More than once, in the middle of the day, we passed a man dressed in a suit, lying in a gutter. Well, on a city where that was a common sight I would have been a fool not to be a tad nervous. Ah, Saturday night in Dublin.
Now I understand that an excessive buildup often undermines the actual experience. That anticipation often blunts actual experience.But, well…come on.
It was like being invited to an orgy, only to arrive to discover you’d only be watching Cinemax. Before 9:00pm. On a Tuesday.
Which brings me to the apparent real danger of Dublin: confabulation. I’ve known Kelley for a lifetime now and Cap seems completely trustworthy. We went to the same bars. But instead of the intoxicating beat of the a DJ, we listened to a remix of “My name is Luka.” Instead of exuberant Irishmen, there was a Bailey’s salesman dressed as a ringmaster and giving away free shots with no takers. Plenty of “hen parties” of middle-aged women in costume sipping drinks demurely through penis-shaped straws.
To be frank, I was worried. Because not only had Kelly and Cap told us of there adventures but there had been pictures. My best guess is they paid desperate locals to pose with them. Maybe pulled one or two directly from the gutter.
My commitment to my friend is absolute. The next morning I bundled Kelley on the first Ferry leaving for England hoping against hope no permanent damage had been done. Cap and Liz fled to the countryside. Only time will tell if I acted quickly enough.
Last night Jim and I went to see The Lion King on stage. While I care very little about the story of The Lion King, the visual effects were astounding. Each character wears the face of whatever animal they are supposed to be on their head. And their heads and bodies move like the animals. The music was great and the dancers were beautiful. It was a great show. However... The audience was so weird that Jim and I just kept looking at each other with that face, you know the 'Wha? Huh?' face. They, not us - clearly - we know how to attend the theatre properly! - they would clap along with the music. And whoop when something happened on stage. They would almost participate in the show. It was so weird. Jim and I walked home discussing how we have been here almost two weeks and surely, by now, our American ways should have rubbed off on these people. I mean that is not how one watches theatre in AMERICA!! Obviously we were joking but it was still really weird. There are other things I have noticed about London that people should know before they get here. 1) Clearly the strapless bra has not been invented here. Girls are going all over the city in strapless dresses and blouses with giant bra straps showing. WEIRD. 2) Due to the lack of space it costs more to eat in at places where you have the option of taking it out. So, not like a real restaurant but a McDonald's for lack of a better example. Here there are places called Pret A Manger (have I mentioned this already?) that have very tasty fresh and cheap sandwiches and salads and when you check out they say, 'eat in or take away?' and if you stay they charge you 30p more. 3) In the same idea - if you want a bag at the grocery, they charge you more. So in the reverse of what is happening in America where some store deduct a few pennies if you bring your own bag - here they charge you an extra few if you require a bag. SO - lots and lots of people have their own bags for groceries and short stops at the store, including the pharmacy, bookstores, etc. I secretly love this. 4) Booze is cheaper than beer. Everywhere we go the booze is cheaper than the beer. So I am actually saving money by drinking whisky. I am nothing if not frugal. Aren't you proud, Mom? 5) They don't just drive on the left side - they walk there too. And seriously, I cannot get the hang of it. I am always always always on the wrong side of the sidewalk, tube stairs, crossing the street, etc. You know how when you are walking in a city and you turn a corner you veer toward the right side, away from the wall, because people coming toward you will be on their right? That is not the way it works here and I am constantly turning corners and running directly into people. I have however adopted 'Pardon' instead of 'Excuse me' because 'Excuse me' just makes people look at me weird.
That is all I can think of right now. All day long I catch myself seeing things and thinking 'weird' because I have clearly not travelled enough recently. I am getting back into the swing of things. Although the money is still weird to me, but I am getting the hang of it. Just in time to head to Belgium this weekend.
Hi, everyone. Jim is preparing a riveting post about Ireland so I will leave that to him. I will say only that I have been to Dublin and if I never get back there, I am okay with that. He will fill you in on the rest. We got back on Sunday and slept the day away. Yesterday, Jim and I went to Harrod's and I almost got kicked out for drooling on the handbags. There was a Valentino purse that I would have straight up stolen if I'd known how to get away with it. We also had Krispy Kreme donuts which is part of Jim's scavenger hunt list. Very tasty of course. We walked through Hyde Park and sat in some comfy chairs by the water. Jim was annoying the wildlife - geese and such and I all I could think was how much Elena (Peter's wife) would HATE where we were sitting. She ain't a fan of the birds. We walked over to Buckingham palace and stared at the doors like the rest of the tourists. 'COME OUT, QUEEEN!' Jim commented how the palace clearly has no a/c and I said that I bet her room does to which Jim said, 'No. She just has people come in and blow on her.' Nice. Last night was back to The Court, drinking whisky with Cap. Yes. I drink whisky over ice now apparently. Going to need some detox when I return home, I fear. Hope all is well at home. Miss y'all.
