Lessons Learned

This summer started innocently enough. Quit my job, sell almost all of my possessions, and move to Germany to live with my brother and his wife for three months. I didn’t do this to do the movie script ‘finding myself’ or some fairy tale dream of discovering what life is all about, but I have learned a lot about what I want out of life. Not necessarily what I want to do, but just what I want.
Beginning to leave Seattle was tough. I had closed off any thoughts of relationships or starting a new career. I wasn’t at a place in my life where I wanted to start something, knowing I wasn’t going to finish it. Besides, I had a plane ticket to Europe with all sorts of adventures planned, and some not planned yet. I had made it this far in life on my own not ‘tied down’ to anything or anybody. Hell, some people that know me would say that I was dead set against marriage, kids, a house, a dog, whatever. It’s not that I’m against it; I just wasn’t ready for all of that in my life just quite yet. Maybe it was selfishness, lack of maturity, maybe it was fear, who knows. Brass tax is that I just wasn’t ready, and maybe I’m still not, but I think that this trip has led me closer.
I know this may get a little lengthy, but I’m just spilling my guts out onto paper right now. So here it goes. For once in my life, I’m going to just let it all go. If only one thing I have learned, no more regrets. This is some of my thoughts and fears about my three month adventure, with a story to conclude it, one of the main contributing stories to some of my feelings about this mini-vacation from reality for awhile.
To be perfectly honest, I’m scared shitless right now. I’ve been doing everything I can to find a job and extend my stay in Germany for an amount of time to be determined at a future date. Most likely, it looks as though I’ll be headed back to Oregon, broke, no job, no possessions, but hopefully with some insights into life and what I want out of it. It’s too bad insights don’t pay for rent, food, or car payments. It’s also not something you can put that easily on a resume. Hi, my name’s Jef, and I have some insights, thanks for the job. Truth is, I have no idea what I’m going to do if I have to go back. Exciting, sure. Anxiety inducing, you betcha.
It’s time to let the feelings out. I’ve gone this far in life with plenty of friends, girlfriends here and there, and a supportive family (sad story, I know). But I don’t really open my feeling to too many of them. I’ve never really worn my heart on my sleeve as they say, instead using humor (albeit terrible at times) as more of a guard than anything. I’ve opened up more to people on this trip that I’ve known less than four hours than I have to a lot of people that I’ve known for years. I think that most of my friends, with a few exceptions, of course, (or the addition of booze) aren’t really the ‘Let’s talk about our feelings’ type of crowd. This isn’t the movies where we share intimate thoughts about our lives on the basketball court or in the sauna (which brings me to the point of why Hollywood always has half naked dudes talking about how fucked up their lives are, because it just doesn’t happen. But then again, I don’t live in California.) It’s usually a pint of whiskey and a terribly miss-timed phone call at 2 am to their girlfriend that brings out the ‘hey, you ok man?’ I really only talk about how I truly feel with a couple of my friends and my brother, and even then, I still reserve some of that deep seeded shit. Like right now, on the tail end of my trip, frantically trying to sort out my life, find a job, I’m freaked out. My chest has been feeling tight due to anxiety (wine has been helping a little), and I’m finding myself with some Into the Wild type scenarios running through my head. Maybe not to Alaska, but Iceland is pretty close. Find myself I have not, but sometimes I feel more and more lost in this maze of life. Now, before I go and feel all melancholy about where my life might end up, I have to remember the lessons I’ve learned along the way, and for some reason, these things cheer my right back up. Plus, at the time of writing this, I have three days until Oktoberfest in Munich. How does that not cheer somebody up?
I have made friends from all over the world on this trip in a matter of months. Most of them, I will never see again. They were part-time friends in a very part-time home. They have shown me that there are tons of people from all walks of life just enjoying the moment. Lesson one: enjoy the moment. It’s not always healthy to always be thinking ahead in life. Sometimes, or most of the time, you just have to sit back and take it in. Wherever you are, enjoy. Unless you work in retail, then pray that Thanksgiving to December 26th will go by without having to think about it. I had a great time meeting these people who I will never forget because we all just enjoyed the good with the bad. Together.
The next thing I discovered along the way is that traveling alone can be amazing at times. Freedom to do what you want, go where you will, eat whenever, etc. There are also many times I found that traveling alone can get well…wait for it…lonely. Not in the ‘I want to drown myself in the Mediterranean’ type of lonely, but more of the ‘I can’t believe I’m at the Colosseum talking to a stray cat’ type of lonely. Wishing someone else was there to share it with me. I had had a pretty good run of it in a few of my trips, meandering about alone meeting fellow travelers and locals. I had also traveled quite a bit with my brother and his wife. But being alone on eight hour train rides, or three hour flights can get a bit boring. Kurt Vonnegut can only keep you company so long. I thought that traveling as a couple would be a nightmare in Europe, but I have seen a million couples doing just that, including my brother and his wife. In the past, my selection of girlfriends was not the best of travel companions. Bickering at me for missing an exit on the freeway, a delayed flight, whatever. Can’t control the plane, the sun, or the fact that we didn’t spring for the GPS and I don’t like driving in LA. I’m more of the go with the flow type attitude in these situations, which I’ve learned, for some reason, aggravates some people even more. Still figuring that one out, but pretty sure it’s a lost cause. I’m learning that if you can travel and explore the world with someone, then living at home will probably be a breeze. It can be stressful, things don’t always work out like you plan, but somehow, all is good? Keeper. I think I’m ready for that companion finally.
Lesson two: I’m ready to accept someone to share my life and experiences with. Part-time friends, while amazing, just aren’t going to cut it anymore. I want the long haul friend. Hopefully, I didn’t wait too long for this to happen.
The story that led me to this conclusion: It was my third night in Rome. I had spent all day at the Vatican and various other sites around the city. It was a pretty damn good day, but little did I know, it was about to get better. I went back to my hostel, ready to rest my feet before I was going to check my email and write a few letter at the internet hotspot/Laundromat that my hostel had a deal with to get people staying there a free half hour per day. Waiting outside for the next available computer, I saw a gorgeous girl walking up with the same flyer I had. I said, “Hostel Beautiful.” She asked how I knew, and I held up the same flyer. She just gave me the ‘Oh, you’re so smart’ look, which I deserved. I asked her name and she told me Avia. Just then, two computers opened up and we went inside to use our generous half hour. I wrote a few emails, and soon enough, the half hour was up. We left at the same time and she was already lost, claiming that her sense of direction was horrible. I led her back towards the hostel and as we got to talking, she told me she was Jewish (like lives in Israel and was on her way to find some family for their Jewish Saturday night traditional feast was the first thing she was doing in Rome Jewish). While chatting, I mentioned the Roma Pass to her that I had and what a brilliant thing it was. She wanted one too, so I took her to the train station to show her where to get it. I waited for her to make a phone call, in which she never got a hold of that family, and so we were off again. She asked where we were going. I explained how I saw a sign for a Korean restaurant near the Vatican and she decided to walk with me to try and find it. I had no idea where it was, just a general idea. She didn’t seem annoyed by my utter lack of direction, but finally asked where in the hell we were going. She wasn’t bitching at all, just that she had to try and get to her dinner. I let her go, but not before making plans to go see the city that night, and that we’d meet up at the hostel later. I finally found the Korean restaurant, sat down, and just said ‘Bulgogi.’ It was amazing, enough said.
I waited for Avia in the lobby of the hostel at 8 pm while chatting with some other travelers making a wakeup call with the guy at the front counter for a taxi at 5 in the morning to take them to the airport. My original plan was to go take some night pictures of the Colosseum and the Fontana di Trevi. When I saw Avia come out of her room, I knew that probably wasn’t going to happen. She was absolutely stunning. I actually had to sort of catch my breath. Be cool, Atwood, be cool. We took the subway to the Colosseum first. We never had those awkward pauses in conversation and talked about everything under the sun. One thing I really liked about her is that she wasn’t afraid to talk about those subjects that most people shy away from. Whether it is religion, politics, war, whatever. The more I spoke to her, the more I realized why she wasn’t afraid. She was born in Israel, by two parents who met in France, one of which was from Poland, and the other from some other country. Random, sure. I was intrigued. She told me that she had encountered a lot of anti-Semitism throughout her travels, and I was kind of taken aback by this. She didn’t have a six-pointed star sewn on her clothing or anything, and she didn’t exactly look Jewish, so how people knew is beyond me. I enjoyed the way that she talked about subjects like this, not with disdain or anger, but with logical and rational thinking. Who was this girl? She was a bright, funny, quick, woman who just happened to be stunningly beautiful. We left the Colosseum, with no night shots to be taken. Eh, I remember what it looked like anyway. We went to the Fontana di Trevi next. I actually expected it to be sort of empty there, but quite the opposite. So we ducked into a small pub to grab a beer and hang out with the rest of the hordes of tourists. We ordered two Heinekens to go. I asked the bartender to take the caps off since he failed to do so initially. She grabbed hers off the bar and proceeded to open the damn thing with her teeth. Normally, you would see some hick or frat guy doing this sort of practiced maneuver, but for some reason, coming from this girl, I found it incredibly sexy. The bartender even gave her a high five for Christ’s sake. Man, did I feel like a pussy. I had to have some reason for why I didn’t follow suit, and luckily I have one. I used to do this little party trick, but one night I saw a friend of mine with stitches on his face. I asked him what happened and (true story), as he was attempting this, the bottle slipped and he put a deep hole next to his lower lip so deep that he could stick his tongue through it. My teeth as a bottle opener trick was retired that day.
We shared our beers, took some photos and then moved on. We ended up at a nice café to grab another beer and talk some more. The waitress suggested the large beers. We looked at each other and gave the OK shoulder nod. She came back with liter beers. Living in Germany, this was no big deal to me, but her eyes widened to a hysterical extent. Like a trooper, she took it in stride. We did our cheers in German and then she taught me how to say it in Hebrew. We shared our pictures we had taken to show each other where we had been and talked more about travel and life. I learned that she had just gotten out of the Israeli military, as it is mandatory for Israeli citizens. This put her at 20 years of age. Yeah, 20. I have done the whole dating a younger girl thing, to find that most of them just weren’t experienced in life and therefore, didn’t have a lot to talk about. Avia, on the other hand, was decidedly different. As she put it, “Where I come from, you deal with so much on a daily basis, and then spend two years in the military, at 20, you feel like you’ve lived the life of a 40 year old.” She definitely had a lot to talk about, and I definitely was enjoying listening.
We finished our twelve Euro beers, which I attempted to pay for while she was in the lieu, but she wouldn’t have it and gave her share. Check another off the list. This girl’s getting cooler as the night goes on. I told her earlier that the subway and buses stopped running at 11:30, but we sat there and talked until past midnight. With her lack of direction, I led us back toward the hostel. It was about a 30 minute walk, but she just shrugged it off and said, let’s go. As we walked back, we just kept on talking about this and that, learning more about each other and how we grew up and what we were doing traveling Europe. As we were a few blocks from the train station, we passed a street vendor selling fruit. It made me think of this movie called All the Days Before Tomorrow, where the two lead characters were in a supermarket and passed by a bin of watermelons. One said, “I can’t believe you can buy watermelons at midnight.” The other said back to her, “It’s LA, you can buy a Ferrari at midnight.” Well, here we were in Rome, but instead of watermelon (which he was selling) we bought and shared some cantaloupe. Then started a discussion about how we call all those different types of melons by different names, which she found pretty funny. She said, yeah, its melon. Nope, it’s cantaloupe. We’ll agree to disagree on that one, but it was damn good cantaloupe, at least for past midnight on the streets of Rome.
We finally made it back to the hostel, where we went to the common room to hang out for a bit, before the guy at the counter kicked us out since the common room closed at 10:30. So, Avia asked me if I’d like to go outside and have a ‘smoke’. I told her OK that I’d at least go outside and hang out. We went out to the front of the building, and I said that it would probably be more appropriate to do that around the corner on a not so busy street. She didn’t see my point, but I said, trust me, it’s probably the way to go with that. We hung out on the street until about two in the morning talking, huddling together in the cold night air, just enjoying the moment. I told her how I had taken Japanese in high school and proceeded to write my name in katakana on my map of Rome and then her name in the same Japanese alphabet. Impressive, huh? She then wrote her name in Hebrew and then my name. It was amazing to see her write one direction and then the next with no delay. (Hebrew goes right to left, unlike most other languages.) I don’t know what it was (actually, I do) but at the time, I was impressed.
A little after two in the morning it was time to head back upstairs. I had wanted to kiss this girl so badly, but like a lot of times in my life, I questioned myself. Was it her age? Was it me questioning if this girl wanted to do the same? Or, was it me just being a chickenshit? Don’t know, but in the end, we said our goodbyes. She was staying in Rome for another three days, and I was off to Naples for two days, and then had to catch a ferry to Sardinia. My flight home was leaving from Sardinia, so I felt like I had to be there. She asked me if I would see her in the morning, and like a complete moron, I said I hoped so, but that I was leaving early to catch a train. In retrospect, I could’ve caught a later train to Naples. And in more retrospect, knowing now that Naples is an overcrowded dump, I should have. I looked into her eyes, and just for a moment, I saw that she wanted to see me again before I left. I’m pretty sure I had some of that blockade still up that was leftover from when I left the States of really, truly letting someone in.
Lesson Three: No Regrets. All I have to remember this girl is her name in Hebrew written down on my map of Rome. Trust me, even with Google, not an easy thing to figure out. I know that in the long run it would probably amount to nothing, but to not even get her contact information before I left is something that I completely regret. She was a fascinating person that I would love to at least keep in contact with. I can’t even do that. Maybe I’ve been dragged to too many romantic comedies by previous girlfriends where two people meet randomly and the girl’s phone number washes off in the rain. I don’t know, but I wish I could go back and do a few things differently. At least I learned something. I’m might be the biggest idiot alive, or I just made a huge mistake. One of the two. Most people would say the former. I’ll live with it, and you never know, it’s a small world. You know, the kind where you meet up again with an Israeli girl you meet in Rome somehow, randomly. Could happen.
So there it is. Maybe a lot of people had these things figured out already. Probably. It’s taken me awhile. I was a late bloomer, and still am, what can I say? I’ve had an amazing summer. One that I will never forget. I’ve met some amazing people. I got to spend more time with my brother in three months than I have in the past 15 years, which means the world to me. I’ve seen first-hand that you can meet people you can live your dreams with through my brother and his amazing wife, Dawn. I’m moving on with my life with a clean slate. Some of that is unbelievable and freeing, some of it is frightening as hell. Like Steve Winwood, I’m going to roll with the punches. I did it in Prague, and I can do it again. So, enjoy the moments, and don’t live with regrets. Now, I just need to find someone that I can do these things with and I’m ready for my real life to begin.

Rome/Naples/Pompeii/Sardinia - I wish more Rome

I know it's been awhile since my last post, but I have been away for awhile. My trip to Italy definitely had its highs (Rome) and lows (Naples), but overall it was a great experience and one that I can truly say I learned something. I flew into Rome, took a train to Naples, a train back to Rome and then a ferry to Sardinia in the course of the week. More or less, here's what went down.

I got to Rome a little late in the evening due to a delayed flight, leaving me not much time to explore the city the first day. Instead, I wandered a little bit around the neighborhood of my hostel, got my bearings as to how the Metro and bus system worked, and found some cheap eats at the train station grocery store. After the trains, flight, and buses, I was a little tired, and called it an early evening, as I had a long next day ahead of me.

As to what everyone says about Rome, that it is hot, busy with tourists, dirty, and whatever other negative connotations you can think of, I found the opposite to be true. It wasn't that hot, and since there are so many different things to do and see in the city, it seemed as if the hordes of tourists were so spread out in the city that I didn't seem to notice it being that crowded. It's not like Venice, where you have 10,000 people crammed onto the Rialto Bridge, or playing with pigeons in St. Mark's Square. It actually felt pretty laid back. My first destination was the Colosseum, two Metro stops away from the station and easy to find. Climb out of the subway, and boom, there it is in all of it's pock marked, 2000 year old glory. It was impressive. Standing inside and imagining what it must have been like in there all those years ago is quite a scene. Kinda makes me wish they'd bring back gladiator times and cheering for the lions. I spent a couple of hours walking around inside, but it didn't seem like that long. Like I said, you just sort of get lost in your imagination there. From the Colosseum, I walked across the street to Palatine Hill where a majority of the Roman ruins lie. Again, your mind starts to wander in these places. The sports park, the gardens, the churches, the homes, graves, and the rest of the rubble that takes you back to the days of the Romans (the old Romans, not the ones trying to sell you four Euro water). On to the Pantheon, which was pretty incredible since there was a choir singing inside mingling with all of the tourists as they sang. Raphael's grave, check. Picture of the hole in the ceiling, check. Onwards, a lot to see in only a couple of days. From there, I walked to the Fontana di Trevi, which was a lot smaller in person than what it looks like in the movies. This was actually the first place I encountered with the hordes of tourists, therefore, take a couple of quick photos and get the hell out of there. It was cool, but not cool enough to fight through the throngs of people to get that perfect shot of the fountain that I could just buy on a postcard ten feet away. I had pretty much knocked off my checklist for the day, so I just wandered for a couple of hours, seeking out some of the less crowded places. One was the Piazza del Popolo, with its fountains at either end and giant tower in the middle. I made my way up to the enormous city park to just relax for awhile and encountered a pretty peaceful place for a city of 3 million, plus the 800 million tourists. It was nice to find somewhere that most people don't deem necessary to see and just escape for awhile. After a 15 minute nap on a bench in the park, I headed back towards the hostel and grabbed a quick bite to eat. Surprise, it was pizza.

The second day in Rome, I primarily was going to spend in Vatican City. Out of the few 'musts' I had to see in Rome, the Sistine Chapel was near the top of my list. Hopped on the Metro and on to the Vatican. I ran into some tour guides on the way, telling me about the lines to get in to the church and the museum and how they could avoid all of that. And they were pretty persistent about it. So, I told one of them that I could probably give a tour myself, since I was a history major in school with a minor in art history. I failed to mention that I was lying and that a lot of the knowledge I had about the Vatican was learned from the movie Eurotrip. She actually, half kiddingly of course, offered me a job. Looking back, if I wasn't lying, I probably would have taken her up on it.

The Vatican itself was pretty damn impressive. It is massive inside, with enough marble to outfit every kitchen and bathroom countertop in Europe. I only spent about an hour inside the church itself, since I really wanted to get over to the museum and the Sistine Chapel. So I headed out and around the city wall to get to what I came to see. Right in I went, no line whatsoever. So don't believe those tour guides when they pester you. Unless it's me. Little to my knowledge, the Vatican has plundered the planet of it's art and history for generations. They not only had Roman art, but artifacts going back to ancient Egyptian times. Way to go Popes of the past. You have a pretty neat little collection of stuff. After weaving through about 5000 years of history, I b-lined it for the Sistine Chapel. Well, b-line isn't the right word, since you have to weave your way through an array of tours of people from all over the world. When you're anxious to see something, old people and stairs are an annoying combination. Finally, I got to my destination. And 'No Photo' is all the guard inside could say. That and 'Shhhhhh'. It's a holy place, or something like that. It wasn't quite what I expected, but I sat there for a good 45 minutes just staring up at that magnificent ceiling. By the time I left, my neck felt as if I was sitting in the front row at an IMAX theater. Well worth it. I moved on to the Castel San Angelo which was a couple of blocks from Vatican City. It was not originally something I had planned to see, but since I was there, what the hell. And I was glad I did. This place provided some amazing vistas of the city and of the Vatican. After a little time off my feet taking in the views, I headed back towards my hostel and in search of food.

Now, I love pizza. But after a few meals of this bready delight, I needed a change. Luckily, I saw a sign for Korean food near a bus stop by the Vatican, and I saw it as a sign from above. Who knew that Rome had a Chinatown? After searching for about 20 minutes, I found this heavenly place where I walked in and just said 'bulgogi'. After some sign language mix of Korean, Italian, and English, the guy finally accepted that I knew what I was talking about, and just had me take a seat. Then, he brought out the spread. It was awesome. Best meal by far in Rome. I wouldn't have figured it would have been Korean food, in Chinatown, in a deserted back alley restaurant. Belly full, I was ready to head back to the hostel to meet up with an Israeli girl I had met earlier. We walked around the city for awhile, visiting some of the sites at night, which was a completely different experience. We grabbed a beer (which she opened with her teeth, which sounds kind of backwoodsy, but for a hot, ex-Israeli military girl, it was pretty damn cool). We walked and talked until about 2 am, and she made me realize a lot of things. (More on that in a future post)

I wish I could have spent more time in Rome, and I definitely intend to go there again. It was an amazing city, with a lifetime's worth of exploring. I would recommend it to anyone going to Italy. Ignore the remarks made by guidebooks about the heat and busyness of the city, and get there. I myself, had a train to catch to Naples, and more importantly, Pompeii. Naples is a completely different story. I'm pretty sure that every single sanitation worker in this town is on strike and no one either seems to know, or no one seems to care. The traffic here is crazy, too. If there's an open piece of pavement, there will be a scooter there shortly. They honk at each other constantly, as if there's anywhere to go. I'm going to make and sell 'Naples makes me horny' bumper stickers and make a mint. When researching the city, I found that there was an old pizza place called Pizza da Michele which was supposed to have the best pizza in the world. When walking to find this mecca of dough and cheese, I saw some people eating it on the street, and asked directions. After they pointed, I asked how it was. All I got was an 'eh'. Not deterred, I turned the corner to find 50 people waiting in line for this glorious thin crust heaven. Now, I was deterred. I'm not waiting an hour in line for a pizza described as 'eh'. I'm pretty sure I could find a good slice of pie in it's birthplace. Instead, I found a little pastry shop with the other thing you have to eat while in Naples. It's a layered phyllo dough confection with sweetened ricotta cheese inside. I had to stop and eat this thing. Unbelievable. And I don't really like sweets all that much. Screw the pizza, I would eat these every single day.

I didn't have much time left to explore this city, so I headed down towards the marina, watched the sunset over Mount Vesuvius across the bay, and weaved my way back up through the streets, taking in some more sites and enjoyed a pasta dinner prepared by the hostel owner's son. I met some pretty cool Australians at the dinner (I think Australia may be deserted with everyone on vacation), and headed to bed shortly after we all shared some wine. I was in a carb overload and needed to sleep it off. Tomorrow was Pompeii.

If you're going to Italy, go to Rome. Then, skip over Naples, and head straight to Pompeii. This is one of the most awe-inspiring places I have ever seen. The ruins are so well kept, it's insane. It's as if the volcano lopped off the top half of the city and left the rest. I skipped ahead of the tour groups and ended up in a back neighborhood of the city. Before I knew it, I was alone, pretty sure that I was in a section of the city that I wasn't supposed to be in. It didn't matter at the time. You get lost in this place. Again, your imagination runs wild with thoughts of what it was like when this was a fully functioning city. How in the hell did these people build such an amazing place without the use of modern tools. Slaves, of course. These were some smart folks, you know, besides the fact that they built the place at the base of a volcano. Ends up, I was in a restricted section, as I had to crawl under a fence to get out. It was nice though, being there alone, without the hordes. As I explored the city further, I found one of the most fascinating things the archeologists uncovered was the frescoes and paintings on the walls of the some of the buildings. These people were better artists with vegetable oil and tomatoes than I could be with Sherwin-Williams at my disposal. I ended up running into the two Aussie girls from my hostel at the site and walked around with them for my last hour there. Again, it was nice to have people to share these experiences with. The next day was primarily going to be trains and a 15-hour boat ride. So after a shower and some dinner, it was off to bed.

After two trains and a shuttle, I got to my ferry with five minutes to spare. Plus, the lady at the ticket office printed me out the wrong ticket, because apparently I look like a Middle Eastern woman to her. I had been in the sun, and haven't had a haircut in a few months, but c'mon. After getting on the boat, I relaxed on the deck and enjoyed a beautiful sunset over the Mediterranean. Italians must see this sort of thing all the time, since I was the only one up there watching it. I headed inside, dropped off my pack, grabbed a bite and a beer, you know, to help with sea sickness. I slept on a couch in the bar (yes, those were the accomodation they gave me), and woke up early as we were arriving in Cagliari, Sardinia. Not a ferry ride I recommend. I had decided to go to Cagliari since it seemed like somewhere I would never go again in my life, and why not see somewhere different. Well, after Rome and Pompeii, it was sort of a let down. Don't get me wrong, it's still a beautiful place on the giant rock, but it pales in comparison to where I had just been. I made it out to Poetto Beach, which was the first sandy beach I had been on in a long time. Shockingly, the water was freezing, and therefore, not the swimming destination I had desired. Instead, I just fell asleep for a couple of hours, and enjoyed the lazy time. Later that night, I met a guy in my room who was from Colombia, but living in France. We met up later and had a couple of beers and bs'd about everything under the sun. Travel, women, stereotypes about Colombians, everything. Did you know that not everyone in Colombia does coke? News to me.

Off to the airport in the morning. And this ended up being one long day. Shuttle to the airport. Delayed flight to Frankfurt/Hahn airport by an hour. Bus from Hahn to Frankfurt train station - two hours. Delayed train by an hour from Frankfurt to Nurnberg - four hours total. And then I reach the Nurnberg train station to find that the last train home has already run. I was close to sleeping at the station, when I saw a line of people at the information desk. I went over there, and due to the delays in the trains, they were giving people cabs home. I got to split one with a couple that lives an hour away from me. I made it home, however, just past midnight.

In retrospect, I would have spent more time in Rome, taken a train directly down to Pompeii and would have finished the trip up on the Amalfi Coast. Just another learning experience. Oh yeah, and Ryan Air's airports suck. They're two hours away from the major airports and after shuttles and trains, the cost savings of their flights don't mean jack.

I learned a lot about my life on this trip, but I'm going to save that for the next blogpost. I also learned a lot about travel, and a lot about regret (travel and otherwise). More to come.....

Sorry, it has been awhile since a post. Im in Rome right now, headed to Naples and Pompeii after that, and then an overnight ferry to Cagliari, Sardinia at the beginning of Sept. I cant find the apostrophe key on this damn keyboard, so yes, there are some typos. Plus, Ive been walking around in 90 degree heat for 11 hours, so the coherency of this entry might be a little lacking. I will be home next week with a full report of everything, but so far, everything is wonderful here. Food is amazing, scenery beautiful, heat is here, and life is good.
Ciao for now.

Just a few thoughts while at home

A Little Background of Why I'm Here

Just as a clause to why I'm even writing this. There are some people I know, and a lot of people I have read about that have amazing lives to which I could only aspire. My story is pretty mundane compared to those, but for those even reading this, it is what I know. The people I have met so far are amazing, and I hope to continue meeting people that not only I can call friends, but inspire me to keep traveling. So for the past ten years, in brief, here is my story.

When I was leaving Seattle, everybody kept telling me how jealous they were that I was going on this trip and how they wish they could do something like what I was doing. Now I have a few friends who have backpacked through Europe or taken trips to Southeast Asia and some who've even been down to South America and beyond. Hell, even my mom's been to Brazil. Me, well, I've been to Europe a couple of times, but mainly just Germany and Italy. I lived in Seattle for eight years and never even made it to Canada. That's only a two hour drive and for some reason I couldn't take a weekend and go visit Vancouver. I still haven't figured that one out, but that's a different story. I guess I figured that it was just time to do something different. You know, like in the movies when someone comes to the fork in the road, trying to decide which way will lead to their destination. Well I picked the opposite way. The one that would take me away from that destination. Granted, I have a home base in Germany with my brother and his wife, but I figure it's still a lot different path than I could've taken.

After college, or uni, as everyone else in the world calls it, I got a job in advertising. It was for a cluster of radio stations under the umbrella of the largest media corporation on the planet. I won't go into too much detail since I only worked there for six months, but it was awful. A market of 100,000 people with 10 salespeople for a lot of local business owners who get inundated with sales calls all day. Looking back, I can see why they would just shrug me off. Another kid, fresh out of school, trying to sell me some shit that I don't need. Don't get me wrong, radio is a great medium for advertising. But only if you have a catchy jingle (I'm lovin' it) or there's a monster truck rally coming up. Other than that, it doesn't really drive people to your weekday pizza buffet or make you buy a new heating and air conditioning unit because you heard that you can trust Mike for all of your heating and A/C needs. That kind of stuff is word of mouth and we knew it, and just like most other jobs out there, the upper ups were kind of assholes. Bottom line this, sales figures that. Not the best people skills in the world unless you were also an upper management person sipping whiskey on the golf course.

Six months in and I had had enough. I enjoyed the marketing analysis aspect of this job. I could run the figures for clients and tell them why the correlation between our listening audiences matched up with their business model, etc., etc. But did it work? Maybe. But like I said, I don't think small town Joe is going to rent a tractor from the blankety blank power equipment rental place because he heard an ad for it during his drive to work in the morning. I'm pretty sure he had more important things going through his head at that hour. Work, wife, kids, where am I going for lunch today (I heard about a sweet pizza buffet on the radio)? I just wasn't enjoying the work anymore and so I quit. I moved back home for a few months trying to find another line of work. That's when I sort of fell into retail management. I got a job at a sporting goods retailer, mainly just to start earning some money and fill my days. I did that job for awhile, moved in with an old friend (who happened to own a house down the street from my dad). I heard about an old acquaintence who lived in Seattle who wanted a roommate, and so I transferred up to Seattle with my job to move to the big city. I loved it right from the start. Whatever you want to do, whenever you wanted to do it. A complete 360 from small-town life to which I was accustomed. I found a job with another retailer which offered way more money and soon enough I was making a comfortable living, sharing a house in a large suburb with some friends. We were going out, living life, and having a great time. Then, the housemates started getting married, moving away and soon, I was the only one left out of the four. So I moved in with a good friend of mine from college for four years, and just plugged along at work. This is where life started taking a turn for me.

Now, my roommate Aaron is a great friend. I still call him frequently to see how married life is going. His wife is a doctor, he's a construction engineer for a home builder in Seattle. Needless to say, these guys are going to be okay. Over the past four years, however, my life just sort of became drab. Don't get me wrong. We had some great times. Concerts, sailing, occasionally going out to bars. It just seemed like life had slowed down. I wasn't in college anymore. I was getting older, in a dead-end job (no matter what they said about career advancement), and I wasn't going out and living the life that I wanted. After eight years of retail management, I finally started to wonder what else was out there. The good thing was that my roommate was getting married, got married (although his wife didn't live there yet, long story, some other time), and they were going to end up moving. This is the sort of kick in the ass that I needed to make a change.

So about two months before I moved out here, my brother and I were on the phone, and he mentioned something about moving out to Germany. I thought that sounded like a great idea. Quit my job, sell everything I own, and just move. Now, I had some things I wanted to do while I was there besides travel, but traveling was the main reason. To some people, this may seem brave (or so I was told), but honestly, I never really though about it at the time. When it really sunk in is when I sold my bed. Not only did I love that bed, but it was sort of the finale that told me that I was moving and when or if, I ever went back to the States, I wouldn't have a bed when I got there. Life is starting over. Everyone says you only get one go round in this life, but it sort of feels like this is round two. Let's get started.

Am I trying to 'find' myself, especially at this stage in life? To be honest, I thought that is sort of why people traveled. After six weeks of living here, I don't find that to be as true. This isn't a sappy Hollywood production of a thirty-something who became bored with life and just dropped it all to start over (although it's kind of what I did). I guess I was just never all that lost. I didn't need finding. I'm not that typical American dreamer who marries his high school sweetheart, goes to school, has 2.3 kids, buys a house, has a dog, and puts in 35 years with the same company for the rest of their lives. I'm sorry, but if I ever get a plaque and banquet signifying that much time at the same place, I'm going to be one sad old man. I don't have anything against the American dream for other people. Some people are very comfortable and quite happy with that life and that lifestyle. I'm just not one of them. I have a lot of friends who do this and they are perfectly happy. Great wife, kids, house, good job, friends, security. That sort of thing, for myself, just isn't compatible at this point in my life.

Since I've been traveling, I've seen a lot of people that have been doing this for years. They're getting out there, discovering, seeing, living. It seems as if they weren't happy with conventionalism as well. Young, old, my age, whatever. They're out there. Doing it. Some of them are even married and doing this thing called life together. I feel like I couldn't just work all year and do this a week at a time, three times a year. Yawn. Disneyland. Yawn. My kid just got potty trained update on Facebook. Yawn. Jesus, it's time to start living. Some of the people I've met so far absolutely fascinate me with their lifestyles. Working half the year to finance their travels for the other half. Now that sounds like living. It seems to me like the U.S. has their head on backwards as to what life is. People are defined by their work, not their friends, family, interests, hobbies, etc. They live to work, not the other way around, which is how it should be. These people, albeit some of them young, and not really experienced with the work force and the 'real world'. Well, maybe the 'real world' sucks. It certainly did for me. I can't imagine getting a 10, 15, 20 year pin for all those hours spent under fluorescent lighting dealing with shit that doesn't really matter to anyone anyway. So the company made a couple extra bucks because I spent an extra four hours at work today. Well, guess what? I'd rather give you the money and just have me go home and enjoy my life. It's sunny for Christ's sake, and we only get a couple weeks of that a year in Seattle. I'm ooouuuttttaaa here! Enjoy suckers!

There are millions of people doing what I am doing right now. Going against the norm, defying the American dream and kindly giving the bird to to the suburbs. However, since this is now my daily life, it sort of just feels like the norm. My norm. Sitting at the end of the bar making wisecracks Norm. Living over here doesn't feel out of the ordinary anymore. It may seem that way to my parents and my friends back home, but I sure don't feel any different. I actually want to make it last as long as I can. Explore more. See parts of the world that most people don't see. You know, go somewhere different for a week, live there and feel a little local. Just long enough to get comfortable, routine, and then go off again. Somewhere new, maybe relaxing this time. Not so many tourists. Whatever. Right now, it feels like I can do this anytime I want. And for now, I can. But soon, the money will run out and reality will slap me right in the face. It's a good thing that that's sort of the way I've become accustomed to dealing with things. When they're right in your grill begging to be dealt with because there is no other option. It's time to get a job. Shit.

So here we go. Whether I get a job, go back to the States to study, stay here and travel with my brother, who, by the way, is an amazing photographer, that has way more patience for a sunset than I would ever hope and way more ambition to get up for a sunset than I could ever dream. I guess, I just want to see all that life has to offer. Man wasn't meant to be confined. And I don't intend to be. Maybe I'll find a job that has me indoors for a few hours a day, but I'm sure as hell not going back to the life that once was. In my six short weeks here, I've met too many people that embrace life as it's meant to be. Meeting people, laughing, sharing stories, staying up way past a 32 year-old's bedtime, whatever. Not to sound sappy, but it's inspiring. I'm going to try my best to stay here and make the best of the time I have. Thank you to all the people I've met so far, and I can only imagine who I'm going to meet in the future. Thank you Nate and Dawn.

The new BB&B - Budapest, Bratislava, and Beer

This last trip was to be my first official backpacking trip on my own in my life. I was finally going to be one of those people you see in the movies with a huge framepack overstuffed with twice as many clothes as they needed and plenty of things that they needed but forgot. Constantly looking up at train station boards with that confused look, as in, I'm sorry, but what is Hungarian for track number, and where in the hell do I get a map to find my hostel? These are things that are quickly picked up, but I guess, there is a learning curve.

So I bought a train pass to Budapest from my "hometown" of Parsberg, Germany. I was also going to take a side trip to Bratislava, Slovakia for a couple of days while I was there. I had done some research on different places to go in Europe, but the weather was going to be nice (as if you can trust weather sites anywhere in the world), and the price was right. So I packed my pack, hopefully not forgetting too many necessities, and headed for my tiny little train station. What a way to begin. I got on a train earlier than my ticket said, but hey, it got me to my first stop. So I had a few minutes extra at the train station. More time to grab a bite. My next train was an ICE train from Regensburg to Linz, Austria. Side note here. When booking a train ticket from the travel agency, and she asks you if you want to reserve a seat, you say yes. I'll tell you, it's no fun to be at the back of a train, in the walkway area crammed into a hallway with your pack trying to read a book. Luckily, most people got off an hour later in Vienna, so I was able to grab a seat for the rest of the ride to Linz. The rest of the train ride to Budapest was pretty uneventful and there I was. New country, by myself, different currency (which I didn't have any of, and no ATM in sight), and a language that I'm pretty sure most Hungarians can't even read. What sound does Szy- make. Whatever you're thinking, you're probably wrong. So big city, no clue how to get around, sense of direction thrown for a loop, get a cab. He probably overcharged me by a couple of dollars, and he almost killed me a couple of times while trying to show me how beautiful Hungarian women are and proceeding to run a red light, but I got to my hostel.

Now most of these places don't take credit cards, so first mission was to find some Hungarian forints (exchange rate at the time was 286 HUF to 1 Euro). So when the ATM pops up, 'How much do you want', and the lowest amount is 10,000 HUF, you are kind of taken aback. So I got some money and proceeded to my first hostel experience. I didn't really know how this was going to work. First of all, the sign said floor two. So when I got to the second floor, looked around with no sign of it, I had to remember that floor two is actually what I would call the third floor. The first floor is generally called the ground or main floor, and the second floor is floor 1, and so on. Finally got to my hostel after about ten hours of leaving my house. Walked in, got the tour (which took about 2 minutes since it was pretty much just a big apartment), and got to set my pack down. At first, there were no friendly greetings from fellow travellers, more of just looks as to 'Who's the new guy?' I'll explain more about this, what I'll call 'phenomenon' later. It wasn't too late, and I was starving so I went to walk around a bit, get my bearings and grab a bite to eat. I found a Hungarian fast food joint that looked all right. At least by 'fast food' standards. Plus they had vegetables, so right there, it's got American fast food in the sleeper hold. With a full belly, I went back to the hostel to meet some fellow travelers, which I have heard is the standard procedure at hostels. Where are you from? Where have you been? Where are you going? These are the questions I found to be answering, or asking, probably a hundred times in the next week. I guess the redundancy of the questions and answers hadn't quite hit me yet, but I can see that it might to some people after a few months on the road. Me, I see it as kind of a jumping off point and ease into conversation with fellow travelers, and as an instant way to make a part-time friend. Or maybe I just haven't been on the road long enough.

My first hostel was called 'The Groove.' Dutch, British, French, Scottish, Canadian, Irish, Icelandic, New Zealander, and me. The lone American. I guess Americans haven't found out that there's more to Europe than France, Spain, and England. It was kind of nice, however. Everyone spoke English and they were really easy to get along with. I had a group of five young Brits in my room, which proved to be my demise the first evening I was there. Everyone got to talking and getting to know each other in the common room and me and these five guys got along pretty well, so we all decided to go out and get some beers. Mistake one for my liver. Not that I can't outdrink these guys pint for pint, but the longevity for which they do it is pretty amazing. We were out until about 4 a.m. that night at a club which happened to be across the street from our hostel (after a few failed attempts at other bars - "This place is dead anyway - a la Swingers"). These guys had told me that in each city they found a 'father figure' to go out and party with. You know, someone who was just a little older and wiser. I let them know that I wasn't quite ready for kids yet, much less five British teenagers. I told them I would be their uncle though. That way, like a real uncle, I could give the kids back when I was done 'babysitting' for the evening. All in all, we had a good time, but the next morning/afternoon is not the same story. Thanks to Will, Nick, Jaime, Al, and Matt for that one.

I had planned to get up early and walk the city and see the castle and the rest of the touristy destinations in the city so that I could get that out of the way to leave me to my own devices and get a 'real' feel for the city the rest of the time I was there. Waking up at noon the next day did not allow for such ambitious endeavors. Instead I met up with a New Zealander, Nick (Neck, Nip, whatever it is), in the common room that I had met the night before in the common room. We ended up heading to the Castle district to check it out and to see the Palace and the rest of the hill up there. There was great scenery of the rest of the city up there and we also found the Labryinth that lies beneath the castle. Although I was enjoying the city and seeing the sights, my body had still not recovered from an hour of drinking I had not seen since first moving up to Seattle. So I went back to the hostel and decided I was not going out and decided to stay in that night and watch a movie. Boring I know, but I did have plans the next day. Of course, I ended chatting with the other group of Brits in the room (Loz, Charlotte, and Katie) and then finishing the movie with a few of the guys from the first night. Overall, I couldn't complain that I didn't go out again that evening. However, bedtime, 4 a.m. This is not boding well for sunrise pictures over the city. Unless I wanted to get them when I was extremely tired, or drunk. Both of which, I hear, are great for a steady shot of the city. Oh, I did get some traditional Hungarian beef goulash earlier, which by the way, is amazing. If you're ever there, get it, you won't regret it.

Day three started a little earlier and I was planning on going to the thermal spas. Nick and I decided to go together, and since there weren't that many girls in the hostel at this point, it was just the two of us. The spa, which I couldn't pronounce (it started with Szy-) was and wasn't what I was expecting. It was, in the fact that there were plenty of old, overly-tanned, men in Speedos. Plus plenty of old, overly-tanned women in bikinis, that probably shouldn't have been. Not really that they shouldn't have been. I just find that Europeans don't have that whole self-image thing that most Americans do (which is good and bad, depending on how you look at it). It wasn't what I was expecting in that, it was really just a collection of indoor and outdoor pools. It did have saunas, massage, pedicure salons, etc. But Budapest is not famous for its pedicure salons. Everyone says, 'oh well, you have to go to the thermal spas.' It was really just a collection of swimming pools. Which isn't a bad thing, I got a hell of a lot of relaxing in. I guess I was just expecting more. More exotic. More islandy. More of a place with less Speedos. Okay, I was expecting that, so no foul on their part. Maybe this is wrong, but it made my feelings feel more justified when I got the same response from a lot of the other people at the hostel. Of course, I said, 'Yeah, but you have to go to the thermal spas.'

Night three in Budapest was something completely different. One of the groups of young Brits left our hostel as well as the Scottish girls. Which brings me back to the family aspect of the hostel. After we had all seen each other for two days, albeit a short amount of time, there was a sense of community that I think we all shared. No more awkwardness, knowing each other's names, sharing stories, saying hi and sharing stories as we passed from the shower to our respective rooms. Now, a lot of our family was gone and there were newcomers. Did we just accept them into our family, or did they have to earn it? So same round of questions ensues with each new couple or group of people that came in. I figured it didn't really matter, it was my last night there, and we still had some of the old family left. So I took it upon myself to organize a night field trip with everyone from the hostel, new and old, to come out to one of the rooftop bars in the city. All in all, there was about 15 of us who went out to the wee hours. The rooftop bar was fun as hell, a good place to hang out and grab some drinks before heading to the club directly underneath with pumping techno, house, breakbeat, or whatever it is that Europeans call it. I will tell you this. There's nothing more entertaining than watching a tall dude from Iceland busting out to house music. I think we all had fun that night. Some of us went back early to the hostel, you know around 3. Most of us stayed at the club till about 4:30 in the morning. Luckily, the trams start running at 4, which made for the easy commute home. Night three was done.

The next morning/afternoon, I went to catch the train to Bratislava. Getting to the Budapest train station - easy. Leaving the Budapest train station - pain in the ass. At least when you're not expecting it to be more like the DMV. For international tickets, go take a number and wait in line. And wait. I figure, show up a half hour early and get a bite. I wasn't expecting to wait in line for 45 minutes, missing the train I wanted to take, and then find out I have to wait an extra hour and a half to catch the next train. At least I brought some Vonnegut to read.

Bratislava is not the most beautiful city I have ever visited. Nor the largest. Nor does Slovakia have the best cuisine in the world. There's a reason there aren't any world renowned Slovakian chefs or restaurants. At least that I have ever heard of (and I used to watch a lot of the Food Network). However, this city is steeped in history. I'll get to that for day two of this adventure. I checked into this hostel, which was more like a hotel with common rooms, later than expected, but it did have a 24-hour bar, so I guess I couldn't complain. Especially since the noise of the 50 people drinking their asses off didn't carry up to my room. I was sharing a room with an Irish guy, two Irish girls, and two young French guys who were cousins. Not the best senses of humor (by American standards), the French, but nice guys. I ended up walking the city for a bit the first night and got some Chinese food. See above if you're wondering why Chinese food in Slovakia. It wasn't bad (not good, but not the worst I've ever had - Thank you for that honor Panda Express). When I got back to the hostel around 10, the Irish folk from my room wanted to know if I wanted to have a few beers down in one of the common areas. I wasn't feeling too well after the late night before, but never look weak when it comes to drinking in front of the Irish, or they'll keep on thinking they're the best in the world for years to come. I, as a beer-drinking American, living in one of the other holy lands of beer, Germany, couldn't allow that weakness to show. We ended up playing some drinking games and had a good time, luckily until only 4 in the morning. My body was starting to hurt. Two more days of this and I think it might just shut down. But perseverance is an attainable quality.

Day two in Bratislava. Decided to finally get up, go walk the city on my own for a bit, run a few errands, take some photos. I had planned a free walking tour at 5 p.m., so I had some time to wander. After joining the wrong walking tour for about ten minutes, I figured out that it wasn't the one I was supposed to be on. Everyone in this group seemed to know each other somehow, although no one said a word to me, like, 'Hey, sir, what in the hell do you think you're doing here?', or 'Please leave.' So, I just kind of dropped back, pretended to take a picture of something, and walked back to the original meeting spot. Was I embarrassed? Not really, seeing as how half of that little tour group all had the exact same shirt on. Was that how they recognized each other? I don't know, but it was like they all belonged to some Adidas cult. I could barely understand the tour guide anyway, even in her accented English. I did understand the word 'Bratislava', however, since she said it maybe thirty times in the span of a block. Maybe she was unsure if we all knew what city we were in, or maybe that tour group was for 'special' people. I don't know. My tour guide was an Aussie named Tom who was a history major and a vagabond about the world. Had to respect the guy for picking Bratislava for a place to do a free tour for three months of his life. We toured the old town for a bit, but most of his information was about how Slovakia came to be over the last 100 years and the historical sites in Bratislava that led up to their independence. It was interesting, and Tom had a way about his speeches to make them that way. My hat's off to the guy for making a place like Bratislava (which I said before is no Prague or Budapest in its beauty) somewhere I would actually recommend to people to visit. That night, I really wanted to take the night off from the bottle. Unfortunately, I ran into Manny, the Irish guy from the night before, who insisted that I went out with everybody that night. So, again, not to be the weak country link, I obliged. We went out for a bit, and then back to the hostel bar. Apparently, Tuesday nights in Slovakia, just aren't the party nights that every brochure speaks about. Goodnight and goodbye Bratislava. More than I expected.

Back to Budapest for one more night. I told myself I wasn't going out this night. And I didn't. Luckily, there was a huge thunder and lightning storm with plenty of rain, that made that guilty feeling of not exploring those last little corners of the city, all right. Instead, I checked into my hostel and took a nap for about an hour. Then I wandered through the neighborhood for a bit to grab a quick bite when I saw those storm clouds coming. I went back to the hostel and there was an Egyptian guy cooking up a meal which ended up being for the entire hostel. Some sort of lentil soup (delicious), some sort of rice dish, and from scratch baklava (also delicious). The rest of the night I just talked with other travelers and then read my new book I purchased in Bratislava until about one in the morning. It felt good to actually just relax for a day.

My last day of the trip was the 8 1/2 hour train ride back to Parsberg. Luckily, I already had my ticket and didn't have to go through another DMV experience. This train ride was pretty uneventful. Spent the hours reading and listening to music. More time for my body to heal itself from the onslaught of young European's enthusiasm for partying balls until the wee hours. I got back home about 7:30 in the evening, wiped out, ready to do laundry and go to bed. Time to plan the next onslaught.

The Italian Job (with less Mini's)

I'm back in Germany for the time being after travelling across a couple of borders into Italy last week. Needless to say, Cinque Terre is an absolutely stunning location on this rock we call Earth. We got in in the early afternoon on a Saturday, to find that a lot of other people had the same idea to visit these 'quaint' villages. Thanks, Rick Steves. We had an apartment that a little old man and his wife rented out and he was an interesting character to say the least. With his English speaking being sub-par, and our Italian coming from a Olive Garden menu, the conversation took about an hour. Finally, it was time to explore our temporary home.

It was muggy and hot. I'm talking about Mississippi in August muggy and hot. It was a good thing we were on the water so we could jump in whenever we liked. So that's what we did. We explored our village of Riomaggiore, which I think is the most picturesque of the five villages (although most guidebooks will tell you it's Vernazza, which was three villages over). Maybe I'm just biased since we spent most of our time there. Hell, after our third day, I was giving info to confused looking tourists who were speaking English. Telling them about wi-fi hotspots, recommending restaurants, how to get to the trails which lead between the villages. If I had a better tan, and I don't know, spoke Italian, I could've been mistaken for a local, since we started feeling that way.

These five villages, hence the name, Cinque Terre, are all built into the hillsides on severe slopes. I'm guessing that if you weren't hawking souvenirs or running a restaurant, these people were primarily farmers. It's quite amazing how they do it, terracing their crops up the hillsides. It really is a marvel to see (or get lost in hiking, like I did, but more on that later). They produce some wonderful wines as well as a sweet dessert liqueur called Limoncino. Some of you may have heard of Limoncello, a close kin to this drink. If you like Lemonheads while you drink Vodka, just pick up a bottle of this stuff and cut out the middleman. There are two trails between all of the five villages, a low trail and a high one. Or, the red and the blue, according to the tourist office. Most people take the low trail, which is paved for a lot of it, but can be pretty brutal in some spots. You could probably hike from one end to the other in about 6 hours, going at a good pace, and if you haven't had too much foccacia to slow you down. Now the high trail is an entirely different beast, especially with 90+ heat and something like 90% humidity. So what the hell. I like a good challenge, I thought. I found out quickly why I was the only one up there that day. It goes straight up the hillside to start, weaving you through people's gardens and past a small, what I'll call a creek. By the time I reached a road at what I thought was the top, I realized that I did not bring enough water for this hike. I could have brought a mule to carry water for me and I don't think it would have been enough. I did however get some gorgeous views from up there. Something most of the tourists who come here don't get to see. I walked on to get to the next village and again, the trail just continued up. Now, it's not well marked, this high trail, and therefore I ended up doing some turnarounds and eventually made friends with a mountain goat who was feeding on some grape leaves. I don't think he was use to visitors, but in this heat, I'm pretty sure that we had a pretty good conversation. Again with the lack of water. I got some amazing vistas of the next two villages, snapped some photos, and decided it was time to head back. I got a little lost, but I found an extremely steep set of "stairs" to lead me back to my village. As I was walking down, I just kept thinking about the labor that was put into making a trail like this one, and I was in complete awe. My shirt may have been soaked through, but compared to what these people went through to put them there, I was in pretty good shape, and it kept me going. That was the last time on the high trail. Like I said, there were no mules to help on future hikes, and I wasn't close enough with the mountain goat to ask him for that kind of favor to help me carry my water.

For the first couple of evenings, the World Cup's final two games were on and so we decided to head up to a bar to watch them, since our apartment didn't have a TV. Since Germany was in the first game, and the Netherlands were in the finals (we just got back from Amsterdam, so for some strange reason, I felt like I was rooting for my home team) we had to watch. It wasn't a bad place to be, overlooking the Mediterranean at sunset time, enjoying a cold beer, and watching some football. Plus, I got to meet some cool people to watch the final game with. One from Canada (Edmonton Erin), and a guy I called Kansas, since I couldn't remember his name. This trip was shaping up to be a great one.

The second day we were there, we went down to the marina and rented some kayaks to get to some more remote beaches. The guy renting them out was very friendly and told us about a waterfall that was about two miles away, but we decided to head the other direction towards the next town. We found a beach, got out of the kayaks and enjoyed a swim. Note, to readers, the Mediterranean is super salty. I'm talking Salt Lake salty. So remember to take your Chapstick out of your swim trunks before entering the water. Otherwise, the next time you apply it, your lips feel like the rim of a margarita glass. We had a great time, and we knew we were going to have to go again. So we did the last full day we were there. My brother wasn't feeling up to it, so his wife and I decided to go. This time, we were going to check out the waterfall. About one hour into our little paddle, we both agreed that this 'waterfall' was a snipe hunt. Something to tell tourists to go check out to give the locals a chuckle. Very funny, my Italian friend. At least I was able to see a topless woman on a boat at the rocky beach that we stopped at to grab a snack we brought along. Waterfall, schmatterfall, I say.

Kansas was telling me about a little tradition that some tourists do which is to bring a bottle of wine down on the rocks at the marina and watch the sunset. I thought that sounded like a good idea, so I invited Edmonton Erin to join me down there one night, to allow my brother and his wife some alone time in what is, a very romantic place to be. When I showed up, she had brought two Australian girls that she had met with her. Sounds good to me. These girls were very cool. They liked to travel, have good conversations (why the hell isn't the U.S. on the metric system, one I still can't answer), and have a good time. We all sat on the rocks, got to know each other, and enjoyed some good, local wine. My brother and his wife met us down there and we all conversed until the sun was a memory. The Aussies, Canadian, and myself ended up walking back into town to grab a drink and hey, hey. A reggae band was playing to a crowd of about 100. We caught their last few songs and then proceeded to get that drink. These girls liked to party. I think that's why we all got along so well. So well, that I ended up forgetting the corkscrew and glasses that I had taken from our apartment earlier. I ended up replacing the corkscrew for our 'landlord', which didn't work worth a crap, by the way. All in all, it was probably the most fun evening that I had in Cinque Terre. Meeting good people is the main reason that I like to travel in the first place. Sure, the sights are cool, but they're just blips in your brain of a place you saw once. The people you meet are what make the memories of somewhere you've been.

We did visit all the villages of the Cinque Terre, and even Levanto, on the north end. Levanto was a cool town, with horrible food, but they did have an India Pale Ale on the beach, so I had to try it. Not bad, for Italian beer. After six days, it was time to go. Since the weather report showed thunderstorms for our next destination, we called an audible, and headed for greener pastures in Brenner. We stayed in a small town hotel and got to actually do some hiking in the Italian Alps. It was amazing. We did take a chairlift up most of the way and then hiked up to the top of a ridge, which offered some wonderful panoramic views. This will sound completely cliche, but something I will always remember were the cows. The bells clanging away as they chomped their meals was something I had never heard before. I guess they're probably harder to hear in a large scale feed lot back in the States. I guess the views were pretty neat, too. But the cows! Overall, the Italian Alps were great and somewhere I will probably head back to to do some more extensive hikes and hopefully reach some peaks. These Alps weren't overrun with tourists, which is kind of how I'm trying to experience things while I'm here. Sure, I like the hotspots of Europe, but sometimes, to get away and experience things that most people don't see, can make a trip unforgettable.

All in all, this was a great trip. Saw some places I'll never forget, made new friends, and just relaxed. I hope this trend continues for the rest of my time in Europe. See some cool shit, meet new people, and just enjoy life. Like they say, life is not about the destination, but the journey. One last thing, I want to thank my brother, Nate, and his wife, Dawn, for allowing my to make these memories together, and for bringing me along. I definitely couldn't have done this last week without them.

Lazy few days

After getting back from Amsterdam, I needed (needed may be the wrong word here) a few days to get prepped for the next adventure. We're going to drive to Cinque Terre, Italy to stay for 6 days. It's right along the Italian Riviera right at the bend in the country along the northwestern coastline. From what I've read and seen, it should be amazing. On the drive back, we're going to camp in Garmish, Germany, which is at the foothills of the Bavarian Alps. I'll be gone for awhile, but will try to post mid-trip. Definitely lots of pictures to come. I can't wait to go hiking between villages and some of the days, we're going to rent sea kayaks and go between the towns that way. It's supposed to be gorgeous this next week there, which should make for a great trip. I'm sure there will be plenty of stories and pictures to come. Unless I just decide to make it my permanent home. It'll be tough to contend with Amsterday, but this should be the opposite vibe. Instead of the party vibe, this should be more of the vibe of, to quote Depeche Mode, enjoying the silence.