It's been awhile. For that I am sorry. I realize that we haven't written anything for nearly two months as we made our way across Europe, so this entry, written hurridly before departing for a beautiful Brazilian Island beach, will hopefully serve as a Ketchup smothered snack to whet your appetites for the promised stories to be delivered upon our return (only two more months!)
From Romania we pulled an overnight train followed by a day train through Hungary where our new chatty friend nearly destroyed our ears, but did introduce us to some lovely Brazilians who we will be meeting here in a few days. The five of us newly aquainted travelers took advantage of an afternoon layover for a quick tour of Zagreb before another night train to Split and a bus to Dubrovnik's paradise. After days exploring peacock covered islands or small fortress towns we would race up 463 stairs to our fantastic porch where we would sip Croatian lemon beer, eat fantastic cheese, and drool over neon colored rays reflecting across the Adriatic Sea as the sun sank behind the Elephite Islands. Easily the most beautiful sunset I have seen and will ever see.
After a few days we rode a ferry across to Bari Italy and then a train to stay with a violin maker in Parma where we indulged in good Italian cooking, including pasta, parmesan, proscuitto, prosecco... yes all good things begin with ¨P¨. Then to Lago Majore to stay with a pilot, sail across the lake, intaking perfumes of Jasmine, and continuing building up a golden tan before the clouds of Northwestern Europe could destroy it. My birthday was spent at a park in Milan followed by one of the best dinners I have ever tasted - complete with apertifs, green-corn peppered steak, desserts, and of course wine and prosecco. Then to Florence for a whirlwind rush of the Baptistry, the Duomo, Piazza Michelangelo, the Arno River, and more eating of course! (eat a little, see a little, eat a little, walk a little, eat a little, sleep a little...)
After Italy was a tease of France along the Cote Azul in Nice which included the best carbonara ever, a Matisse museum, the beach, and the appropriate viewing of Moulin Rouge.
Our way to Spain quickly morphed into an adventure worthy of embellishment for the ears of future prodigny. Puzzled by the lack of trains and hotel available to/in Barcelona, I refused to believe the ticket agent that my internet itinerary would not work out. Instead of returning to our hostel I stubbornly talked Cerri into boarding a train that we did not have reservations for. We spent the first train playing an unfair game of Musical Chairs where we were always the loosers. The second train did not present such a problem, but once we arrived in Montpellier we quickly learned that the rumors of European train stations being filled with vagabond backpackers sleeping in corners everynight did not apply to every station. We were the only ones hoping to camp out in the deserted station. Luckily the guard was kind enough to lock us in - a comforting thought as we listened to the rantings of a madman throughout the night. In the morning we still found ourselves a long train ride away from Barcelona. Needless to say, I always trusted the ticket agents after that night.
Our introduction to Barcelona included the exuberant shinanagans of futbol fans celebrating victory over Manchester United. However, it was Gaudi who filled our memories of Barcelona with beautiful, colorful, light filled buildings in motion. The Sagrada Familia unquestionably belongs among the architectural masterpieces that occupy every travelers to do list. Then to A Coruna´s dramatic coastline where proof of our growing insanity found itself as we embarked on a four day trek without so much as a map, lay of the land, or even language. Nerves grew as we walked along looking for some sort of sign that would guide us on our quest for Santiago de Compestella. Relief found us during a lunch break as we happened to look across the road and see the blue and golden shell symbol that, along with little yellow arrows, would lead us through the Spainish countryside on the treasure hunt that they call the Camino de Santiago. 45 miles later we would return to A Coruna on a measly 30min train ride.
From there was a day and a night train to Paris where we toured the Eifel Tower, the Louvre, Montmartre, Notre Dame, the Seine, Tuilerie Gardens, and a small jazz club. (Aye aye... soo much to say!). After a week Cerri and I did what we would only do once on this trip... split up. I spent a tear filled night and day making my way back to Spain, just Northwest of Valencia, to spend a week with an aged-hippy named Salvador as his first WWOOFing volunteer.
Despite spending two weeks in his ancient house with his three dogs and cat, I never quite stopped being surprised. The first night, after painting a friends house, we hurried home. Thinking that we were going for a hike I put on my boots, yet as we rushed instead to the car I realized we were going to class and as would be typical we were late. Thinking maybe it was an ecology class of somesort I was surpised when everyone left what seemed to be the classroom and walked upstairs for yoga. So I did yoga... in jeans... in Spanish. There were many of these instances, but the best may have been the trip to Valencia. Ready for sight seeing I had my camera ready. Yet instead of heading to the sights of Valencia we headed to a funeral home for a viewing of his recently deceased aunt. By the afternoon I had completely given up on anticipating our activities for the trip which was good because there was no way I could have known that that afternoon I would end up in the middle of a protest that stretched for 4.5km. As people chanted around me I blew bubbles and took pictures.
(Cerri will have to fill you in on the her adventures in the middle of France later)
Happily reunited with Cerri we spent a few more lovely nights with her cousin and his family and friends before heading for Amsterdam. Maybe to some disappointment our stay did not include the reknowned coffee shops. Instead we discovered a love for Van Gogh, bicycles, windmills, cows, artist communities, paddle boats, costumes, beer, and pancakes at midnight. Then to Hamburg for a few nights where we got our Germen beer and braughts. Following Germany was a long trek by train and boat through Denmark and Sweden to reach Norway.
In Norway we not only discovered a very large family tree, but a magic land filled with waterfalls, greenery, fjords, never ending daylight, and Trolls (yes they do exist). In between Kayaking adventures on glasslike water, camping on the beach, family reunions, out of this world strawberries, all night beach volleyball tournaments in the artic circle, chasing sheep at 6am, boating to salmon farms, fishing in the Salstrom currents, and discovering folk traditions, we fell in love with brown cheese. A noteable event occurred on our visit into the Oslo center. Just as sat eating lunch next to the Nobel Peace Institute a call came in from Cerri´s cousin´s boyfriend saying that a bomb exploded not five minutes from where we sat. We saw the building in a distance on our walk back to the car. We spent the rest of the day like every other Norweigen: watching in horror and disbelief as detail of the massacre on the island filtered in. Things like this don´t seem to happen in a country like this. Of all the places we have gone, it seemed the least likely that such an act of violence would happen. The police don´t even carry guns.
Our last stop in Europe was a week in England. The fact that the entire country spoke English natively blew our minds. For once we could relax in conversation. For once simple interactions and exchange of information seemed easy and nonchalant. It was great! While there we visited Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, the Thames, the London Eye, the National History Museum, a showing of Chicago (with fake American accents), and had high tea at Harolds.
Yikes. I am exhausted simply writing this. Just as it took a good few days to recover from such a rush. I am sure that things listed here are lacking in detail ... and coherency... and maybe just completely lacking in general. Hopefully we will be able to convey Brazil in a much better, much more complete, much more fluid way... but that will just have to wait.
Ciao!
Hali
From Romania we pulled an overnight train followed by a day train through Hungary where our new chatty friend nearly destroyed our ears, but did introduce us to some lovely Brazilians who we will be meeting here in a few days. The five of us newly aquainted travelers took advantage of an afternoon layover for a quick tour of Zagreb before another night train to Split and a bus to Dubrovnik's paradise. After days exploring peacock covered islands or small fortress towns we would race up 463 stairs to our fantastic porch where we would sip Croatian lemon beer, eat fantastic cheese, and drool over neon colored rays reflecting across the Adriatic Sea as the sun sank behind the Elephite Islands. Easily the most beautiful sunset I have seen and will ever see.
After a few days we rode a ferry across to Bari Italy and then a train to stay with a violin maker in Parma where we indulged in good Italian cooking, including pasta, parmesan, proscuitto, prosecco... yes all good things begin with ¨P¨. Then to Lago Majore to stay with a pilot, sail across the lake, intaking perfumes of Jasmine, and continuing building up a golden tan before the clouds of Northwestern Europe could destroy it. My birthday was spent at a park in Milan followed by one of the best dinners I have ever tasted - complete with apertifs, green-corn peppered steak, desserts, and of course wine and prosecco. Then to Florence for a whirlwind rush of the Baptistry, the Duomo, Piazza Michelangelo, the Arno River, and more eating of course! (eat a little, see a little, eat a little, walk a little, eat a little, sleep a little...)
After Italy was a tease of France along the Cote Azul in Nice which included the best carbonara ever, a Matisse museum, the beach, and the appropriate viewing of Moulin Rouge.
Our way to Spain quickly morphed into an adventure worthy of embellishment for the ears of future prodigny. Puzzled by the lack of trains and hotel available to/in Barcelona, I refused to believe the ticket agent that my internet itinerary would not work out. Instead of returning to our hostel I stubbornly talked Cerri into boarding a train that we did not have reservations for. We spent the first train playing an unfair game of Musical Chairs where we were always the loosers. The second train did not present such a problem, but once we arrived in Montpellier we quickly learned that the rumors of European train stations being filled with vagabond backpackers sleeping in corners everynight did not apply to every station. We were the only ones hoping to camp out in the deserted station. Luckily the guard was kind enough to lock us in - a comforting thought as we listened to the rantings of a madman throughout the night. In the morning we still found ourselves a long train ride away from Barcelona. Needless to say, I always trusted the ticket agents after that night.
Our introduction to Barcelona included the exuberant shinanagans of futbol fans celebrating victory over Manchester United. However, it was Gaudi who filled our memories of Barcelona with beautiful, colorful, light filled buildings in motion. The Sagrada Familia unquestionably belongs among the architectural masterpieces that occupy every travelers to do list. Then to A Coruna´s dramatic coastline where proof of our growing insanity found itself as we embarked on a four day trek without so much as a map, lay of the land, or even language. Nerves grew as we walked along looking for some sort of sign that would guide us on our quest for Santiago de Compestella. Relief found us during a lunch break as we happened to look across the road and see the blue and golden shell symbol that, along with little yellow arrows, would lead us through the Spainish countryside on the treasure hunt that they call the Camino de Santiago. 45 miles later we would return to A Coruna on a measly 30min train ride.
From there was a day and a night train to Paris where we toured the Eifel Tower, the Louvre, Montmartre, Notre Dame, the Seine, Tuilerie Gardens, and a small jazz club. (Aye aye... soo much to say!). After a week Cerri and I did what we would only do once on this trip... split up. I spent a tear filled night and day making my way back to Spain, just Northwest of Valencia, to spend a week with an aged-hippy named Salvador as his first WWOOFing volunteer.
Despite spending two weeks in his ancient house with his three dogs and cat, I never quite stopped being surprised. The first night, after painting a friends house, we hurried home. Thinking that we were going for a hike I put on my boots, yet as we rushed instead to the car I realized we were going to class and as would be typical we were late. Thinking maybe it was an ecology class of somesort I was surpised when everyone left what seemed to be the classroom and walked upstairs for yoga. So I did yoga... in jeans... in Spanish. There were many of these instances, but the best may have been the trip to Valencia. Ready for sight seeing I had my camera ready. Yet instead of heading to the sights of Valencia we headed to a funeral home for a viewing of his recently deceased aunt. By the afternoon I had completely given up on anticipating our activities for the trip which was good because there was no way I could have known that that afternoon I would end up in the middle of a protest that stretched for 4.5km. As people chanted around me I blew bubbles and took pictures.
(Cerri will have to fill you in on the her adventures in the middle of France later)
Happily reunited with Cerri we spent a few more lovely nights with her cousin and his family and friends before heading for Amsterdam. Maybe to some disappointment our stay did not include the reknowned coffee shops. Instead we discovered a love for Van Gogh, bicycles, windmills, cows, artist communities, paddle boats, costumes, beer, and pancakes at midnight. Then to Hamburg for a few nights where we got our Germen beer and braughts. Following Germany was a long trek by train and boat through Denmark and Sweden to reach Norway.
In Norway we not only discovered a very large family tree, but a magic land filled with waterfalls, greenery, fjords, never ending daylight, and Trolls (yes they do exist). In between Kayaking adventures on glasslike water, camping on the beach, family reunions, out of this world strawberries, all night beach volleyball tournaments in the artic circle, chasing sheep at 6am, boating to salmon farms, fishing in the Salstrom currents, and discovering folk traditions, we fell in love with brown cheese. A noteable event occurred on our visit into the Oslo center. Just as sat eating lunch next to the Nobel Peace Institute a call came in from Cerri´s cousin´s boyfriend saying that a bomb exploded not five minutes from where we sat. We saw the building in a distance on our walk back to the car. We spent the rest of the day like every other Norweigen: watching in horror and disbelief as detail of the massacre on the island filtered in. Things like this don´t seem to happen in a country like this. Of all the places we have gone, it seemed the least likely that such an act of violence would happen. The police don´t even carry guns.
Our last stop in Europe was a week in England. The fact that the entire country spoke English natively blew our minds. For once we could relax in conversation. For once simple interactions and exchange of information seemed easy and nonchalant. It was great! While there we visited Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, the Thames, the London Eye, the National History Museum, a showing of Chicago (with fake American accents), and had high tea at Harolds.
Yikes. I am exhausted simply writing this. Just as it took a good few days to recover from such a rush. I am sure that things listed here are lacking in detail ... and coherency... and maybe just completely lacking in general. Hopefully we will be able to convey Brazil in a much better, much more complete, much more fluid way... but that will just have to wait.
Ciao!
Hali
