Am I Corn or Kale?

We were in D.C. last week to watch the Supreme Court of the United States in action.  The feeling?  Similar to a rock concert, albeit in the AM. Justice Scalia was ruthless, Justice Breyer rambled on, and Justice Thomas… remained silent, 5 years and counting.

Capitol at sunrise

SCOTUS building

Washington monument

Vietnam memorial

Lincoln memorial

La Casa Blanca

Michelle Obama's famous Whitehouse vegetable garden

Constitutional nuggets

Harvard

We spent the first half of Spring Break in Boston, including my birthday.  We were out-of-practice in terms picture-taking, so no food photos… and no Lady Gaga footage either!  All the better, all the better…

No matter how wonderfully connected the modern age has allowed us to be, it’s been impossible to convey every single fun, awkward, or pseudo-tragic moment of our trip through this blog. We hope it was not too much of a drag to read, and that the pictures turned out at least OK (it‘s hard for us to tell because our netbook‘s screen is not that much bigger than the camera display!).

As a celebratory farewell (technically, homecoming), we put together a collection of silly signs we’ve encountered throughout our journey, accompanied by the eventual comments or quasi-funny one-liners. Don’t expect anything too special — some of our favorite signs went by too quickly to be properly registered, but perhaps we could work on hand-drawn renditions of the “yield to explosive children playing” sign we saw in Slovenia, or the “troll crossing” one in Norway.

***
Thailand had no lack of good signage.

The owners of this establishment must have thought the different colors would be sufficient to distinguish between these two services, but we couldn’t help but conjure the mental picture of a digital “Internet Massage”.

Mom is mad about something.

Deer have a good evacuation plan in case of fire and logging. Humans are more concerned about water.

We wrote about the elephant dung paper factory a while ago, but I don’t think we included this fine sign on the post. Sadly, we never made it to the demonstration.

At first, it looks like the (mis)spelling will be the star of the sign we found in our bungalow‘s bathroom, but there’s more to it.

Not sure about this one, either.

Keep track of your belongings or they will end up with a different species.

The two bathroom doors below were side by side, making us wonder what could possibly be so different about a monk’s hygiene or human condition.

Europe’s signs were more low-key, but we were impressed to see that bike paths are fully integrated into Budapest’s transit system.

Sitting on the edge of a castle tower in Slovenia might lead to being shot in the leg and face by a nail gun.

Slovenian girls wear funny bows in their hair, in a nice example of gender/age stereotyping.

We saw this sign in construction zones all over the old continent, so Europeans must not think much of Robocop being a member of the terrorist organization that plotted the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and thus kickstarted World War I, the Black Hand.

Czech political cartoonists are certainly not honeymooning the country’s politicians.

This failure of a sign is what Copenhagen boat tours can offer to their customers in substitution for the Little Mermaid statue.

We found the name of this Norwegian coffee shop to be wittily worldly.

***

That’s it. We are very grateful for our families and friends who have helped us put ourselves through so many awesome situations and experiences, as well as the friends we made along the way. There is no point typing about the impact this trip has had in our lives because the whole thing is not even close to sinking in, and most importantly, talking is still a preferred method of communication.

An addendum: we kept a fairly accurate record of our expenses throughout the trip, so if anyone is curious/interested about how much cash you’d need to save for an extended trip, we’d love to chat about that too. During our research we found that to be the unanswerable question that every traveler asks when preparing for such adventure. Of course, there are endless variables that affect traveling expenses, out of which we will be enthusiastically promoting CouchSurfing and sandwich-making.

At last, a list. These were the TOP 5 travel items we could not have done without, and why:

1) wool socks — they work magically well when it’s hot, cold, wet… you name it. Feet are very important, and treating them well is the best idea.

2) tiny umbrella — we once read an article that proselytized against bringing an umbrella,  claiming that “if it’s raining, stay inside”. If we had heeded to this advice, we would have not gone outside for a good 3-week block of our European trek… not to mention that umbrellas work as sunbreakers too; we used them on the beach in Thailand to protect ourselves from the scorching 100-plus-degree, noon sun.

3) packing cubes — when taking your life on the road with you, it’s good to keep your basic belongings compartimentalized and packing cubes allow you to pack and unpack swiftly; most importantly, you won’t have to spend much time searching for that one item you shoved deep into your bag should you need it in the midst of a busy, shady train station.

4) bandana — because it serves multiple purposes, from picnic cloth to napkin to mud wiper. I would have had to throw away my shoes halfway through our journey if it wasn’t for one of those.

5) netbook — without it CouchSurfing, putting together train schedules, and adequately changing our plans due to the volcano would have been respectively difficult, horrible, and impossible. The added, albeit unfortunate bonus is that my MacBook’s HD decided to die two days after our return, so the netbook has been promoted to main computer status for the time being.

On that note, we are signing off.

Stockholm closed up our RTW journey. Like many other European stops, we did not do much research on the city prior to our arrival, yet again, we were able to greatly enjoy our short stay. As it turns out the Swedish capital is a gorgeous city, the real surprise being the ease of navigability, especially considering it is built over an archipelago. More so than any other Scandinavian destination, it matched the traditional grandeur and photogenic character of other capitals in continental Europe, such as Vienna and Prague.

Stockholm is in full party mode; in addition to recent graduates riding on disco trucks blaring loud dance music and spilling beer all over the place (we were not shocked or confused because Bev had told us about this tradition), there are ongoing festivities in preparation for and celebration of a royal wedding (the Swedish princess will be marrying a commoner who looks like Clark Kent in exactly 9 days).

The motto promoted by the city is that Stockholm is the 2010 European Capital of Love, and on a sunny day like the one we got after our arrival you could really tell that the campaign is working — the whole atmosphere was vibrant.

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Gamla Stan, the old city, was both an ideal place for Nancy to pick up souvenirs and for our cameras to work overtime, particularly as the sun slowly set.

We also made it a point to visit the fantastic Vasa museum. I perceived the Vasa as the antithesis of the Kon-Tiki (which was still my favorite ship museum of the trip, hands down): while the latter was incredibly precarious yet managed to travel thousands of miles through the Pacific Ocean, the former was a massive failure, conceived as a glorious warship that sailed for less than 20 minutes in 1628, tipping over before even leaving Stockholm Bay and sinking.

The real cool story, however, was its rescue operation over 300 years later, a major feat of creativity and hard work. The ship was brought up from the ocean floor in such a long, careful and well thought out operation that 95% of the original Vasa was recovered.

***
Since the self-proclaimed “Capital of Scandinavia” was our last destination, we finally allowed ourselves to go shopping. It made no sense to accumulate volumous goods and then carrying them along for months, so our travel acquisitions up till now had been few and far between — a shirt here, a topper ware container there. In Stockholm, everything changed (I was lucky enough to find an original Czechoslovakia soccer jersey in fairly good condition — for being at least 17 years old — for only $5!). But the real shopping event, without a doubt, was our day trip to the nearby suburb of Kungens Kurva, home to the largest IKEA store in the world. It is difficult to explain how gigantic that place really is — I am certain we traveled a good mile while strolling by beautifully furnished isles, even though our mission objective was the megastore’s marvelous kitchenware. A few hours later, we were in possession of 2 large plastic cutting boards and another colossal wooden one, a 3-knife set, 2 soup bowls & plates, 1 awesome wok, 1 thermos that ended up mildly scratched by the wok, 1 loose tea strainer, 5 spatulas and other utensils, 1 grater, 4 sealable grain/cereal containers… not counting Nancy’s stuff. The low prices and superior quality and design simply could not be denied, and the giant wooden boards (Nancy also got one) put us into an great pickle, as they won’t fit into any of our bags. We spent 45 minutes wrapping them in paper, cardboard, tape, and string (all provided by IKEA) and then hopped on the free IKEA bus back into Stockholm. That’s right, not only do they offer free transportation to and fro the store, they also serve the cheapest food in all of Scandinavia at their restaurant and cafes (all located within the store) and provide families with a kids’ playroom. We heard struggling immigrant families often take advantage of IKEA’s free bus, daycare, and near-free meals (I paid $2 for a plate of meatballs and mashed potatoes, which I’d guess is about 5 to 10 times less than the national average).

***

To celebrate our last night in style we headed off to the gimmicky-yet-amusing Absolut Ice Bar. Reservations had to be made for the privilege of spending a 45-minute shift in this absurd underground environment; everybody is given the  same silly coat so they can withstand the cold (-5 C / 23 F) while sipping on minuscule Absolut Vodka drinks, awkwardly dancing to electronic music, and gawking at the ice walls and sculptures — even the cups are made of ice, brought directly from the Lapland.

We heard that Swedes despise its existence, as it is indeed nothing but a pricey tourist trap. Whatever — we felt like going somewhere bizarre to wrap up our travels, and for what it was worth, the ice bar was ideal… and actually quite entertaining!

***

After 130 days, 15 countries, 13 flights (including connections), 40+ train rides, and 32 beds or couches (not counting poorly slept nights spent on trains, planes, and buses), we are back in Benzie County. We would be lying if we said we were not ready to be home: albeit in different degrees, we had started to experience the controversial feeling of travel sickness — even though we know it’s been an amazing privilege to see so much of the world, we have slowly grown tired of switching locations every few days, and drifted closer and closer to the idea of a more permanent home base. Now that we’re here we’ll probably start experience the post-travel blues, for which we can also hardly expect sympathy. Luckily (at least for me), the World Cup starts this Friday, and for the next month I have a very specific agenda. Of course, we also have plenty of more serious business to take care of, as we prepare to move to Vermont and start law school this coming August… which doesn’t mean we’ll be leaving this blog behind just yet: there is one more post coming.

Norway has been truly enchanting; it is difficult to translate our feelings of awe into words. The natural beauty of the country rivals any of the other stunning places we’ve seen through this trip; calling it the cherry on the top would be an understatement — the fjords are more like the golden leaflet on top of the $1000 dessert Donald Trump eats in New York City.

The “Norway in a  Nutshell” trip consisted of train, boat and bus rides that took us from Oslo to Bergen (there is actually a direct train, but tourists take a scenic detour from the town of Myrdal to go through more fjords). From the train, the most impressive sight was the cold and desolate landscape of the Lapland.

The Flam railway was nice, though we can’t say we lucked out with the weather. It was quite chilly, and by the time we hopped on the boat to Gudvangen we knew rain was coming. The lack of sunlight did not stop me and Nancy from taking hundreds of pictures, but admittedly my favorite part of the ride was when I put the camera away and turned on my iPod. The light rain was enough to drive the tourists out of the deck, and I once again put my raingear to the test and stood there all alone in my best music experience in months (Beach House’s Teen Dream was the culprit).

***

Not Rio:

After traveling for over 14 hours we finally arrived in our hostel in Montana, a “suburb” just outside of Bergen. The receptionists couldn’t find our reservation and or provide us the private rooms we had already paid a deposit for, but all was well once they let us stay at a 4-bed room on the first night, totally free of charge. This represented yet another significant saving and made us feel better about paying so much for the second night. Norway, as we’ve already mentioned, is one of the priciest places on Earth; however, the workers here are very well paid and their “poverty line” for a family of four is about $40,000/year — two times more than the U.S. figure. Of course, the prices here are also two times higher, but if you keep in mind that Norwegians get universal access to health care and pay nothing for university, things start looking lopsided. Next up add the fact that only about 8% of Norwegians fall below the previously mentioned “poverty line” and virtually everyone reading this blog should start to feel jealous. The truth is that people in Norway pay a hefty load of taxes — for example, despite being one of the largest producers/exporters of petroleum in the world, gas here costs about $8/gallon (there is an 80% tax), but with low corruption levels and only 5 million people living in the whole country, it is possible for the government to implement an effective welfare state. Unlike other oil-rich nations in which the natural resources are a curse (think Nigeria) or only good for the rich (Russia), Norway has used the revenue of its exports to “spread the wealth around” and create a nation of educated, socially conscious people who have a higher purchasing power anywhere they go (our host in Oslo told us about going to Sweden — an expensive place for our standards — to buy cheaper goods).

***

The coastal city of Bergen is known for two things: fish and rain. It rains 260 days out of the year, with only 60 sunny days out of the rest. We were thus fortunate to go 50-50 during our stay. Despite its atrocious transportation system, cloudy Bergen was still quite charming, and with the sun out the place simply shone.

Norway’s second-largest city is more traditionally “historical” than Oslo and its old centre (Bryggen, a UNESCO World Heritage site) is quite well-preserved. As a major port city, Bergen was once part of the Hanseatic League and the architecture on the waterfront reflects this influence  (though I solemnly swear I am still not “into” architecture; I just think those buildings look like Lego houses).

We visited the famous fish market and sampled some odd fare, including smoked whale meat; it had the sub par, chewy consistency of beef combined with a light fishy flavor — not too special. Moose and reindeer sausage/jerky were also available and… not that good either. We settled for some great smoked salmon on the first day and a classically unhealthy fish & chips meal on the second, before taking the funicular railway to the top of one of the seven mountains that surround city and take in the marvelous geography of the region.

***

As if our Norway leg hadn’t already been sufficiently remarkable, on Friday night we boarded a Hurtigruten ferry/cruise ship going North. They offer a few incredible packages that will take you deep into the Artic Circle, but we opted (and asked Nancy for it as a Christmas gift) to ride it for “just” two nights on our way to Trondheim. Despite being on a “cruise”, we tried to keep living on the cheap and brought enough food to get us by, including yogurt and cheese we had no means of refrigerating (we developed quite the faith on the Norwegian brown cheese). As we are headed northward, darkness is now nonexistent and we stayed up late taking photos of the colorful horizon.

The scenery is so ridiculous it borders of the surreal, and again I must say that pictures do not do it justice (especially when taken through windows).

On our only full day on the boat we actually opted for a bus excursion through yet more fjord land. We went through the Geirangerfjord and many more that I can’t pronounce or remember but are nonetheless unforgettable.

It was a bit odd at times to be driven around with mostly elderly people, but it was also nice to get a break from planning daily activities.

It sure did not hurt that the weather was gorgeous. I am very happy and can officially declare our round-the world trip a success.

***

On Sunday morning the ship docked in Trondheim. It was cold and cloudy, with all the makings of another “hangover” stop before a 14-hour train trip out to Stockholm. Nonetheless, it was a nice place to check out.

The most remarkable event was our stumbling onto a youth dance/gymnastics competition on a park area near the city’s famous Nydaros Cathedral. There were hundreds of kids jumping and doing cartwheels up and down the grass, and just as many supportive relatives there watching with their chairs, blankets and cameras. We reckoned it must have been a regional competition, or else Trondheim would be universally known as the gymnastics capital of the world. Most of the kids were actually not that good, but it was quite a trip to just walk into an event like that and get our fill of Michael Jackson tunes.

Other than that, we had a pleasant yet much delayed meal at a cafe near the “wooden house” district and walked around long enough to know that most businesses are closed here on Sundays. Luckily, we did find an open grocery store and had a good time at our hostel eating and playing ping pong, though not at the same time. The next morning we took off to our last destination.

Gothenburg was a silly yet logical entry to our itinerary. The largest non-capital Scandinavian city, it sits halfway between Copenhagen/Malmo area and Oslo. Gothenburg is home to a lively music and nightlife scene, and would’ve been an awesome stop if that had been our focus. The city is also home to Sweden’s most popular tourist destination: the massive Liseberg amusement park, which serves to keep visitors within its gates and away from disrupting everyday life in the other districts. Apart from that, Gothenburg decidedly lacks obvious touristy sights and thus struck me as a very livable city, unlike others we have visited throughout our trip.

Of course, intergenerational clubs are yet to be invented (even if we were in the right shape to go out, we didn‘t know anyone in the city who could show us any good spots) and I was in the minority favoring a trip to Liseberg; consequently our Gothenburg leg was much more low-key, but not without its charms.

Nancy took us out on a nice fish dinner and we tried a few varieties of cured herring, all of which were very tasty and not disappointing, despite the portions being about five times smaller than I would have liked. The next morning we wandered around the centre and had some perfectly smoked salmon at the Fish Market.

Things got weirder when we stumbled upon Swedish Army troops hanging out at the city’s main strip, the Avenyn. An army band played cob-webbed marching tunes and soldiers showed off machine guns and bazookas to curious passersby.

Across the street in a different park a stage was set up for a high school band playing “Grease” and Kelly Clarkson covers. They were not exactly The Knife or In Flames, but seemed tighter than similarly aged groups in the U.S. We finished our day tour by paying a visit to a castrated Poseidon statue, returning to our hostel on time to make dinner and watch the Eurovision finale.

***

I’m not going to delve too deep into Eurovision (last blog served that purpose); let’s just say that most of the songs were predictably atrocious — by my personal standards, less than 20% of the 25 tunes were tolerable, and I only truly liked a couple of them. The best, by far, was the duet from Romania that included a transparent two-person piano, lots of fire, and an operatic vocal solo in the midst of a badass pop song with a killer chorus. Naturally, they did not win — the crown went to a 19-year-old German girl who sounded like Bjork doing a Lou Bega song. In terms of sheer performance though, nobody could touch the Moravian act with a saxophone-humping dude who looked like he could be in a Final Fight videogame. Huge yes.

***

Oslo was one of the greatest surprises of our entire trip. During our pre-trip research we encountered multiple travel sources that labeled it a lesser European capital, but our experience was the absolute opposite. Of course, we had the benefit of a host who helped us fall in love with the city.

It was a great joy to stay with Vidar; he welcomed us into his flat and served us a traditional Norwegian breakfast every morning, including the oddly sweet brown cheese. I was even persuaded to eat a pickle with my bread and liver pâté, though I can’t say that was a highlight.  He taught us a great deal about Norwegian society and oftentimes made us rather jealous and less willing to go back to the U.S.

We only spent three nights and two full days in Oslo, but thanks to Vidar’s tips and guidance we were able to see a lot. We saw the futuristic Opera House (where the Eurovision Song Contest took place), walking streets, old and new bourgeois districts, the harbor… While Oslo doesn’t have the façade of classic European capitals, its multiple personalities and architectural styles — old European block buildings, modern apartments, traditional Norwegian wooden houses — give it fascinating character.

Thanks to Vidar, we had the opportunity of seeing Oslo from a local’s perspective (though he is originally from the West coast); he took us on a walk along the river and through the botanical garden and different neighborhoods, including the 19th-century industrial district and Oslo’s “anarchist” area (similar to Christiania in Copenhagen, which we didn’t get to visit).

Later that day, he took us to an outdoor café so we could soak in the city over extremely expensive drinks ($10 for a machine-made coffee and a bottle of apple cider. We forgot to mention that Oslo is arguably the most expensive city in the world, and that without Vidar we would have been toast). In a curious twist of fate, while we sat there one of the hosts of the Eurovision contest walked by looking a lot less uppity and sharp than on TV.

An amazing feature of Oslo is that 2/3 of the city limits consist of parkland. Better yet, the residents really put them to good use: on sunny days Norwegians flock in mass to local parks, sprawl over the grass to barbeque on disposable grill boxes, socialize, tan. Women make full use of societal liberties and wonder around wearing their bras (which, let’s face it, are essentially the same thing as bikini tops as long as there is no swimming involved).

Summer daylight is getting rather extreme. Vidar said the Norwegians enjoy “blonde summer nights” — even though the sun technically sets, its light looms in the horizon and keeps it from getting fully dark. Naturally, the downside of the latitude are the long, 18-hour winter nights, which is probably why black metal was created here. In any case, the picture below was taken after midnight and I find that pretty incredible:

We were also blown away by the cultural side of Oslo. We found out there were plenty of worthwhile museums — in one day we visited more than a handful (only one of which was an art museum). We checked out the Norwegian Folkmuseum, which was mostly outdoors and consisted of traditional houses, churches, and other buildings from all over the country (no idea how they moved it all to the current site). We were surprised to find out that green roofs have been used for centuries all over the country, although at the museum they did not have goats roaming on top.

Next we hit not one but three ship-centered museums: we saw 11th-century Viking burial ships, the polar ship “Fram” (used for explorations to both poles, no ship has sailed further North or South), and the amazing Kon-Tiki. The Kon-Tiki museum was probably our favorite — the absurdity of this particular feat (sailing 5000 miles across the Pacific Ocean on a papyrus raft is totally insane) was mindblowing, and we learned that the same explorer also crossed the Atlantic with a similar vessel and was a pioneer researcher on Easter Island.

***

We also visited the Nobel Peace Center and the National Gallery, the latter mostly so we could see the Munch room — after not making it to the Louvre (or Paris at all, for that matter) or Florence’s Uffizi, we had a quick and pleasant art experience in Oslo and saw Munch’s world famous “Scream” and “Madonna” paintings. That said, we saved the best for last (an easy thing to do when the days are so long) and put the cherry on top of our Oslo cake by strolling through the notorious Vigeland statue park, a massive complex (almost 30 years to design and finish the park and its 200-or-so statues) that was really the only thing I knew about Oslo prior to getting there. We were a bit tired by the time we made it there and were happy to find out that the statues are rather conglomerated, making it a stunning, almost overwhelming experience. Vidar told us Oslo-ites use the park as sort of a temple, visiting it on different times of the year — even though Oslo has relatively mild winters, I’m sure this place looks crazy when covered with snow.

***

The next morning we got up extra early to embark on what is arguably the pivotal travel day of our trip: the so-called “Norway in a Nutshell” journey…

The journey to Denmark was pretty high-tech: our train was loaded onto a car ferry (I guess that’s what happens when you build your country’s capital on an archipelago) and we had the chance to go up to the deck and see the sea. In almost every direction there was a cluster of wind turbines.

***

Our one and only night in Copenhagen was relatively low key, except for a quick stroll around (not through) the famous Tivoli amusement park. The night’s most eventful moment was when, while waiting to cross the street, I was hit really hard on my left leg, right above the knee. The pain was a lot greater than it should have because of the cold, and when I looked down to the ground I was surprised to find out that I had been hit by a red pepper, probably thrown out of a moving vehicle. Despite my positive conditioning (Copenhagen is the name of a classy chocolate factory in Sao Paulo), at that point I did not heart the Danish capital.

***
The next day we met Nancy at the airport, and the three of us rode the train across the bridge to Sweden. We got off in Lund, home to the country’s largest university. After having some trouble with the cell phone Norika’s mom brought from the U.S., we finally reached our hosts, Lars and Bev. Lars lectures at the University of Lund and slot car (in Brazil we call it “autorama“) racing aficionado — he’s competed in the past ten or so world championships. We were able to see and play a little bit with his setup, though we couldn’t quite do it justice.

Despite being from Australia, every night his wife Bev cooked us delicious food  that was neither typically Australian nor Swedish — just Bevish, as she put it. She took us to see Malmo’s modern apartment district (the houses there were originally built for a design/architecture expo) and the iconical Turning Torso, Scandinavia’s tallest skyscraper.

We felt rather spoiled: she even insisted that we take the car one of the days to fully explore Southern Sweden (Skona). Of course the car was not automatic and I didn’t feel that was the appropriate time for me to learn, so only Nancy and Norika (for the first time in months) drove.

***
The next day we took the bus to Lund (technically, we were staying in the village of Hjarup) and Malmo, Sweden’s third largest city. We did some mild exploring of old buildings, churches, squares, and parks.

Later that day we drove to nearby Lomma to catch the weirdly-colored sky shown below, along with an inactive nuclear power plant:

We’re still getting used to the longer daylight hours. It’s not the getting dark at 22:00-22:30 that is getting to us, but rather the fact that at 4:30 it’s already totally bright out. We keep waking up way too early and feeling disoriented, but hey, there are worse things.

***

The real fun was our return to Copenhagen, which turned out to be more pleasant than the first time around. Nevertheless, there was one major disappointment that Nancy had to deal with: the mythical Little Mermaid statue is currently in Shanghai for the World Expo, leaving the city without its main postcard. Norika and I heard that the mermaid statue was quite overrate anyway and were not too bothered, but we did find the idea of moving the statue for a few months a little bizarre.

To make matters a little worse, a piece by a Chinese artist was installed where the mermaid usually sits, but it can only be seen from land. Naturally, we decided to take a boat tour to explore the city’s canals and thus did not see what the replacement artwork looked like. Other than that, the boat ride was quite entertaining (if cold), and we got to see more of Copenhagen than we would have by foot.

Bev gave us an invaluable tip about a café just off the main touristy stretch, and we had a delightful lunch of traditional Danish open-faced sandwiches. They were very tasy and we could barely keep our hands off them.

We later walked around the Stroget (walking street), where Nancy insisted on buying me a late birthday present, which turned out to be a Lego model of a smart car. The gift almost made up for our not going to Legoland, which I am sure is awesome but unfortunately is an expensive attraction hours away from Copenhagen.

When it started to trickle a bit, we went into the free admission Danish Museum and learned some interesting facts about Danish pre-history (e.g. there used to be a land bridge between Denmark and England).
***

The nigh before we left Hjarup, we were introduced to the incredible Eurovision Song Contest. It is shocking that none of us had ever heard of it: apparently, this competition has been going on every year since 1956 and is one of the most watched non-sporting events in the world. Each member country of the European Broadcasting Union (which extends its reach as far as Azerbaijan, Armenia, and Georgia) participates and every May, Eurovision week is truly a fever. ABBA has won it for Sweden in 1974, and other notorious — though not necessarily great — artists like Celine Dion and Julio Iglesias have participated early in their careers. Some of the performances border on the absurd and are therefore hilarious (for instance, a few years ago the Russians brought in an Olympic figure skater to circle around the singers, who were all standing  within a tiny ice rink).

Bev got us to watch the Swedish artist’s performance on the semi-finals, and after a couple of other countries (it’s a live show, and there is hardly a minute interval between performances) we were undeniably hooked. It turns out that the final will take place in Oslo this very Saturday, just a day before we arrive in the city.

No matter: we’ll have to find a way to watch from our hostel in Gothenburg, which is where we are now.

We had no idea that the biggest language barrier of our trip would be found in the Czech Republic. A few days ago we booked a room in Teplice nad Metuji; we had just found out about the scenic Teplice-Adrspach Rocks region, tucked in a corner in the Northern part of the country, so close to Poland that we could walk there in a couple of hours. Consequently, the climate is cooler and very close to what we get in Michigan; even though it’s mid-May, the temperature didn’t rise above single digits (Celsius) throughout our stay, and bone-chilling rain was an ever present threat.

Teplice nad Metuji is a tiny village (roughly 1,900 inhabitants); grocery stores here close at 17:00 and restaurant menus with English translations are scarce. We imagine native English speakers rarely venture to these parts — the “other” languages here are German, Polish and Russian. When we arrived, our host at the guesthouse was a younger man with a good grasp of English, but he warned us that he would leave the next day and his parents would be running the place; most importantly, they spoke Czech and only Czech, so any information we‘d like to extract about the hikes, sights, and trains had to be done before the staff switch. He also told us that a large group of people would be arriving and that, in such occasions, his parents cooked goulash for everyone. We quickly signed up.
***

The rocks are the main attraction here, and they are sweet. We had no idea they are also huge — based on the few pictures we found online during our research they could have very well been the size of a house. Instead, some were taller than skyscrapers, shooting up hundreds of feet in the air.

The crazy formations comprise natural labyrinths that were only “officially” discovered (apparently locals used to run to and hide in the rocks during medieval wartime) and fully understood after a great fire in 1824. It makes sense: a good part of these trails would be tough to navigate without the bridges and boardwalks that presently stand, and at one point we had to squeeze through a long and narrow (50cm) corridor between rock walls. Wandering aimlessly around here 200 years ago would be a no-no.

We were shocked to see snow still hiding in the canyons, valleys, and other crevices — in one of the signs the only word we could understand was permafrost, which probably means that some of the ice here never melts.

Many of the rocks have names, some adequate and others not so much. “Giant‘s Harp”, “Horse Head”, and “Lovers” were some of the most adept titles.

Not at all related to the rocks except for its mere placement by the park entrance, this is what the newest recycling ads look like in the Czech Republic (or at least in this area):

***

At 18:00 we showed up at the dining room to find it completely full of old Czech couples. We sat at our reserved table and saw that all the men were hunched over the television watching the national hockey team play Canada. It became clear that dinner wouldn’t be served before the game was over, so we decided to pursue some of the awesome-looking Czech beer everyone else was drinking.

We met the older couple running the guesthouse and the woman was quick to lead us to a separate room with a bar. I asked for a pivo (beer — perhaps the only Czech word I know) but instead she wanted us to try a traditional spirit made from blueberries. I waived and tried to communicate that it was not a good idea, we were about to eat some great food and what’s the use to upsetting the stomach before it, but she was very smiley and insistent. I repeated “pivo, pivo” but she could care less and poured us two huge shots of clear liquor (and a tiny one for herself). I tried one last lobby for pivo but it was too late, so we sipped on the liquid and made faces as it burned our insides. Her husband then showed up with maps and booklets containing hardly any words in English. They pointed here and there and we think they told us on of their fathers was alive and well at age 94. They talked and talked and we couldn’t do much but smile and try not too look as confused as we actually were. We returned to our tables, were served two bowls of delicious home cooked Czech food and, at last, a beer.

Czechs are very proud of their brews. Since our arrival, we have not seen any sign of a foreign beer, and it makes sense — based on our research, the Czech have mastered the art of drink ability without sacrificing flavor; their beer is light (even the darker ones) but not watery, always with a pleasant aftertaste. It’s not mind blowing good, but it’s impressively consistent and cheap: we‘re talking dollar pints all of the time. Drinking something like PBR or the American Budweiser (or Skol, Brahma, etc.) here would probably be regarded as criminal offense. Everyone here drinks beer — even the old ladies at dinner had full glasses of golden goodness.

***

The next day it was supposed to rain all day. We thought we were mentally prepared for it, but soon realized if the bad weather kept us indoors we would be unhappy. We tried to communicate with our hosts when they came into our room to change the bathroom garbage, and the lady took on the mission of finding us a good program. She tried to call her son, failed, and then said she would get ahold of him within 15 minutes and have him talk to us. After 30 we thought she got busier doing more important things, but to our surprise to knocked once and entered our room, sat on the bed with us (I was working on a blog and Norika was reading), and phoned her son. Once in touch with him, she handed Norika the cell so he could give us tips on what to do in such a gloomy day. Just in case, she continued yelling at the phone (which, again, was in Norika’s hand and ear) so that she could tell her son what to translate for us. This situation went on for a few too many minutes and we could not contain our laughter, which surely was interpreted as our gratefulness for all their help.

After much deliberation and a couple of trips to and fro town to buy groceries and use the internet for 20 meager minutes, we decided to just suck it up and go on the hike we had originally planned regardless of the conditions. We were rewarded for our delay — it barely rained in the afternoon and we had little trouble staying dry, at least from our ankles up. The ground was at times muddy and other times straight up inundated; our shoes were soaked, and I was once and for all convinced that, if Norika hadn’t made me buy expensive wool socks for this trip, my feet would be frozen and decomposing. Instead, they felt warm and barely wet, which was simply miraculous for someone who‘s worn cotton socks for two-plus decades.

This trail was less photogenic but equally rewarding. The rocks were covered in shiny green moss and closer in size to what we had envisioned; the up-and-down path was foggy at points and felt even more like a labyrinth. All in all, this place is so unreal that my only disappointment was not seeing  a centaur or some other mythical creature.

***

To my relief, the trip from insular Teplice to cosmopolitan Prague was smooth; we arrived at our hostel with plenty of time to settle down and use the internet to fine-tune the details for the rest of our time in Europe. Most importantly, we would not risk missing the concert we purchased tickets for months ago.

(Warning: next section is a concert review. Skip it or risk injuring yourself yawning)

Pavement was one of the U.S.‘ premier independent rock bands of the 1990s. Since their brake up about a decade ago, their reunion has been hotly anticipated and therefore, from an economic point of view, inevitable. They were playing at the Palac Akropolis that night, and we were able to book a room literally a block away from venue. At 19:00 we headed over and found out that, despite its imposing name, the Palac is actually a tiny, cosy place: there were perhaps 300 people (for the sake of comparison, let’s say the Akropolis was significantly smaller than St. Andrew’s Hall in Detroit, the Metro in Chicago, or Tom Brasil in SP). We were also happy to discover that the venue was non-smoking and that Pavement would be the only act performing, so there would be no need to sit through a potentially annoying opening act. Norika had the brilliant idea of checking out the balcony right after we got in, and we ended up sitting in the front row (there were maybe 6 rows, each one with no more than a dozen seats) away from the sweatiest sections of the crowd. The mostly male audience was an interesting mix of aging hipsters and younger people who could not have seen Pavement live in their past incarnation.

Live, Pavement was an amplified version of their studio career, with all of its virtues and flaws. They were often impressive yet often unfocused. Like most rock acts, the most reliable tunes were the loud ones: songs like “Unfair”, “Summer Babe”, and “Cut Your Hair” (which was way more intense than its recorded version) worked wonders live. I learned that I was quite ignorant about the band, unaware that they do indeed have a second drummer/instrumentalist who actually takes over the extreme screaming duties when needed. His stage presence was quirky, incredibly ‘90s and thus very funny. Stephen Malkmus did not look like a nice person, but his guitar playing more than made up for his snotty attitude: his style is idiosyncratic yet efficient, and even though he is the main vocalist he virtually plays all of the leads (in fact, he is a much better guitarist and lyricist than a singer).

On the less positive side, some of the band’s mellower songs lost their luster outside of the studio: alt-country tunes like “Range Life” and “Father to a Sister of Thought” sorely missed the extra instrumentation — banjo, slide guitar, whatever it is — and sounded too plain; the same applied to songs like “Here”, “Zurich is Stained”, and “Starlings on the Slipstream” lacked the ambience that made them great recordings. Also, however erratic Malkmus’ vocals can be, they were consistently superior to the other guitarist’s; he sings some of my favorite Pavement cuts but unfortunately couldn’t properly replicate them live ten-plus years later. But hey, that’s just me being critical. The show was pretty good. Ironically, the best song was also the only one I did not recognize, featuring an extensive atmospheric guitar section and absurd vocals. I’ll have to listen to Wowee Zowee again and see if I find it.

***

The following day we left the hostel and stored our luggage at the train station; our CouchSurfing hosts wouldn’t be able to meet with us until after work, so we had a few hours to explore Prague by ourselves armed only with an oversimplified city map.

We committed the grave mistake of getting hungry while at the most touristy part of the city, and were systematically screwed by a restaurant that charged us a couvert for the giant pretzels sitting on our table and bread that we neither asked for nor touched. We had to pay $3 for a few meager slices, and I got so upset that I ordered them to bring back the bread they had taken away so I could bring it home. I didn’t care about the $2 pretzels because they were stale anyway. We were incensed and prone to forever hate Prague, and walking across the crowded Charles Bridge and nearby streets did not make us feel any better.

All of this changed when we finally met our CS friends. Honza and Zuzka were two of the nicest people we’ve encountered throughout our trip, and we had a great time sharing Southeast Asia stories over cookies and tea. That night was the highlight of our Prague stay: we ventured back to the old city, but instead of the busy squares we headed to a deserted side street where our friends knocked on an unassuming door, which opened up to a descending spiral staircase that led to a small vinoteka — a wine cellar, tucked away from the crowds. Honza was right: the Moravian wines were very good, and we dined over a platter of cheese, bread and meats that resembled the Austrian buschenshank we visited the week before, but with a distinct Czech flavor and a focus on the wine. We talked politics, cultures and economics until the manager let us know it was time to leave.

***

On Saturday Norika and I went back to the old city much more well prepared with our friends’ tips. We located a jewel of a restaurant right in the heart of Prague and had one of our best meals out in weeks — I went with Honza’s tip and opted for a huge dish of duck with fried onions, bread dumplings, and cooked cabbage. It cost $5, about 3 or 4 times less than it would in the U.S. “Nothing Compares 2 U” (Sinead O’Connor, written by Prince) played on the radio and life was complete.

The weather was awesome for the first time in weeks; from certain viewpoints, you could see lines of nearly identical, plain block buildings from the Communist era looming in the suburbs miles past the Prague Castle.

At last we were able to capture the hideous pants that we’ve seen children and teenagers wearing throughout the Czech Republic. We don’t quite understand why they are so popular, with their silly combination of plaid patterns and large plain patches on the thighs (back) and shins (front). Ugh.

We spent the rest of the afternoon walking around parks, the castle, and a few other old town sights, before meeting back up with the CSers and going to a free, outdoor music festival at a park situated on top of a hill with a neat panoramic view of the city. There we met some of their other friends, one of whom has been to Brasilia before (he’s an architect and had to check out Oscar Niemeyer’s work) and another who’s done some hardcore traveling through Iran, Afghanistan, China, Norway and other places. We were tired and a bit cold but still had fun eating deep-fried food and watching English-singing Czech bands get the crowd going.

***

We had to leave Prague much too soon: we were out of the door at 7:00 the next morning so we could embark on a 12-hour travel day across Germany all the way to Copenhagen, where we’ll meet Norika’s mom… tomorrow!