Showing posts with label Getting Lost. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Getting Lost. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Travel by Number

Sweet street art

23. Mai 2011

Springtime in Vienna!


Vienna Secession...art dork!

Naschmarkt, Vienna
Handpainted Easter eggs!
My Easter Break trip in April was epic.  I saw and experienced so much that any amount I write about it really can’t do it justice.  The magnitude of both the distance I traveled and the sites I visited is truly massive…honestly there is no honest way that I can accurately verbalize my sensual impressions of Vienna, Bratislava and Budapest, but I can leave a road map of my journey and hopefully spark some part of you to give due time to these three capital cities on the Danube river if you haven’t already or remind you of hidden memories of a prior trip that are still lingering off in the corners of your mind.
Poppyseed noodles!  Europe has the best fair food!

Enjoying the little things
Train to Bratislava...Wiesel???
Far from home
Eating veggie with the Hare Krishna
• 3 capital cities • 90 kilometers walking • 26 hours in the train • 1 Danube River • 20 Lipizzaner Stallions • 1 terraced palace view • 2 world class museums • 1000s of hand painted Easter eggs • 1 Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss” • 1 contemporary ballet mystery • 2 angry Brits • 2 turtles in a train station • 1 advertisement for my homeopathic flu medication • 3 grumpy Slovak train station employees • 3 sweet Slovak “grandparents” pointing me in the right direction • 1 €5 (and somewhat useless) map of Bratislava • 1 failed trip to Devin Castle • 3 vegetarian restaurants • 5 Hare Krishna • 2 fair trade stores • 2 questionable statues • 1 drinking fountain feeding directly from underground springs • 1 world class performance of Ravel’s “Bolero” • 10 thermal bath pools • 1 Gellert Hill hike • 7 days of gorgeous weather • 2 Chinese twin roommates • 5 vibrant markets • 1 Polish hippy hostel • 6 postcards with international postage • 1000s of new sights, sounds, smells, tastes and impressions •
Never seen an ad for my flu meds before

I love traveling in Eastern Europe!

Deine,
N*
Lock gates started in Budapest






Artsy Fischerbastei
Jewish memorial

Poppyseed ice cream???  Yum!

Danube from Gellert Hill, Budapest

Sunset behind Gellert Hill...perfect last night!

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Extraordinary Day

16. November 2010

Saturday night I stayed up late at Alina and her cousin’s goodbye party. (Alina is the intern at the newspaper who did my interview for the paper…if you want to see the article, let me know and I can send you the link…anyways, we ended up becoming friends after that.). As we made our way groggily out the front door the next morning, we blinked in surprise at the bright, blue sunny sky and fluffy wisps of clouds. It had been rainy for days, but the lack of moisture wasn’t the only difference – it was warm. “What is this? It’s like Spring!” we exclaimed. It was the middle of November, and we were astonished.

The day was so nice that I couldn’t not be outside, so I went out on my bike. (I know, it’s surprising.) The Elbe was calm and deep as I pedaled across the bridge and coasted down the ramp onto the path on the flood plain. Soft gusts of wind purred across the path and filled the sails of several kites floating overhead. “What a day!” I thought vaguely as I let my mind wander and my feet spin. Legs burning, I raced across the level plain and felt as thought I might take off at any moment. Entering the forest, I paused for half a second before pedaling pell-mell down a dappled path to my right, wet leaves making an odd swish-squishing under my whirring wheels. Navigation was slightly trickier through the mud and puddles, which still lingered on the leaf-strewn paths, but I relished the slight thrill of not knowing quite where my wheels would land. After a final hill, I coasted down towards the bridge that marked the opening of the Luisium. Even at 3:30 P.M., the sun was sinking lower and lower in the sky, so I just took a leisurely tour of the bike paths around the square-looking castle, leaf-bare trees and the lake – now barely recognizable, so covered over was it with the debris of autumn.

As I made my way back, I was consumed by my own pensive thoughts and veered left towards home at the fork in the path. As I continued, the leaves covering the ground got stickier with mud, and finally I had to stop altogether when my front wheel lodged itself in a sinkhole. Only then, with a panicky flutter in the pit of my stomach, did I realize I didn’t recognize the path. It was getting dusky and I didn’t want to be caught in the forest after dark. Wild pigs are native to the area, and it’s also full of hunting stands, not to mention the pitch black that would surely descend here far from the glow of street lights. I turned back towards the main path and was plagued by nightmarish images of all the things that could happen to me in the forest after dark. At the crossroads once again, I paused for a moment and had the epiphany that maybe I’d turned too early, that I actually needed to go further away from the main road to connect with the path that would lead me back to it. This did indeed turn out to be true and my bike burst from the forest into the open meadow. The church tower of Roßlau appearing in the distance restored my previous feeling of euphoria, and my intense relief at being found again fueled my furious pedaling towards home.

Deine,
N*

Thursday, October 21, 2010

The Pied Piper of Prague

17. Oktober 2010

I started my first trip to a foreign country other than Germany with a half an hour of sleep and an hour-earlier-than-anticipated start. Being the brilliant individual that I am, I booked my train ticket from Dessau instead of Roßlau. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but until yesterday (of course, the last day), the bridge between the two parts of the city has been under construction, so you have to take a bus. Naturally, that bus runs less often on Saturdays, resulting in said unforeseen early departure. It’s 4:15 A.M.; do you know where your passport is?


  
Landscape from the train


The train ride was uneventful. I slept most of the way, even though I tried desperately to keep opening my eyes because the countryside between Dresden and Prague is heartrendingly picturesque. The only other thing of note during the trip there was that I couldn’t sit in MY reserved seat because a Czech man, who looked like Severus Snape from Harry Potter, kept waving his arms at me, said who knows what in Czech and absolutely refused to move even when I showed him the ticket. In the end I gave up because there were other seats, and frankly I was just too tired to put up a fight. I seem to have really bad luck with reserved seats. I’m strongly considering not getting them anymore, no matter how much the Germans swear by it.

When I arrived in Prague, I got cash, bought train tickets and found the metro with relative ease. Finding the hotel was a different story. My instructions were to exit the metro station, turn right and go up the hill. Well, it sounds simply enough, but it turns out that depending upon which way you exit the metro station, there are about three ways that could be correct. Guess who chose the wrong two first? After the second attempt, I tried asking for directions from a cute, little old lady. Unfortunately she only spoke Czech and also had no idea where the hotel was. She kept trying to tell me things in Czech and looked at me questioningly to see if somehow I understood. I didn’t. Finally she hailed a little old Czech man over. He also didn’t speak English, but once he had donned his glasses, it turned out he did know where the hotel was. He started trying to explain it to me slowly in Czech, but thankfully right at that moment, two middle-aged ladies, who spoke English AND knew where the hotel was walked by and took over. Once I found out where to go, I also found out that there isn’t really a great way to get there by foot. There are many paths, but none of them are direct, and several are dirt trails through a wooded area – pretty, but inconvenient when you’re carrying your luggage.


View of Charles Bridge and castle
After checking into the hotel, I went into the city to explore. As easy as I find the metro to navigate is how difficult I find the street directions here. I have a poor internal compass without mountains as a reference point, and in a city with winding ways like Prague, well, I spent a lot of time finding out exactly where I'd gotten myself. Oy with the poodles already! I managed to find myself from the Wenceslas Square (too many people and touristy/mall shops!) to the Charles Bridge. Wow. Prague is known for its bridges for a reason. The view over to Lesser Town and Prague Castle accentuated by the river and bridge is unforgettably classic. I strolled over the Charles Bridge and “window shopped” by the open air vendors selling handmade jewelry and artwork. I will certainly be doing some shopping there before I leave. As I finished crossing the bridge, it started to drizzle, so I opted to head to the museum I particularly wanted to visit.



National Gallery

By the time I reached the National Gallery in the Messe Palace – the location where 19th and 20th century
art is housed – there wasn’t a ton of time before closing (I got lost), but there was enough time for the “Monet to Warhol” exhibit visiting from the Albertina Museum in Austria. Fine by me. I thoroughly enjoyed the exhibit and then stopped by an Italin restaurant for pizza on my way back. I had the waiter teach me to order in Czech, but I forgot by the time I got home...I wanted to write it down too - oops.




Charles Bridge and castle by night
 Cue, the night gets a little more interesting. The Germans have continually reassured me that it’s safe to walk around at night ever since I’ve gotten to Europe, so I decided to take the metro to the Charles Bridge to view the magnificence of the night lights. All was well until I was about three fourths of the way across the bridge, when a girl about my age with a guitar on her back started talking to me in Czech. When I was unresponsive, she asked me if I spoke English. My first mistake was acknowledging that I did and my second was probably letting her keep talking at all. She wanted me to come to the end of the bridge with her for something that she wouldn’t or couldn’t tell me and gave me this green branch that had been in the flowers she’d sold. She was with a boy who’d also been playing guitar a few minutes before, and she said they were living on the streets, but doing this was better than doing something else. Whether by design or because she just couldn’t say what she wanted to in English, the whole conversation was very convoluted. Needless to say, I didn’t feel good about it. Why was she so insistent and why me in particular? Her ambiguity and the boy’s music all had a Pied Piper type feel, so I pretended to follow them and then I turned around and left the green branch on the bridge in case it was some sort of a gang sign (…yes, that’s where my mind went). Maybe her intentions were honest, and if they were I’m truly sorry for doubting her, but I can’t exactly afford blind trust alone in a country where I don’t speak the language. Honestly the whole thing creeped me out…there was just something “off” about it. In self-defense I learned that if your gut senses that, it’s usually right, so I went back to the hotel as quickly and unobtrusively as I could. I was worried about being followed then, so unfortunately my otherwise great day ended with a bit of a negative spin.

Deine,
N*