BootsnAll Travel Network



August, 7 through December, 12 2007

127 days. 15 countries. 7 pairs of underwear. 2 travelers. 1 biblioteca.

Oslo

September 9th, 2007

Upon our arrival in Oslo, we meet up with our first Servas host. Else and Karsten live in the heart of Oslo near Vigeland Sculpture Park with the sculptures and monolith by Gustav Vigeland. We stayed up very late learning about Norway, describing Texas, and discussing a mutual love of Spain. Else and Karsten were amazingly hospitable and our first Servas experience was great.

We got a good feel for Oslo during a busy day of touring the city. There was a thought-provoking climate change exhibit in the Nobel Peace center. Between that and the gorgeous nature photos by Steve Bloom (stevebloom.com) displayed in the area, Lauren and I were about ready to join Greenpeace and sail off to put the ice caps back together piece by piece.

Due to intervention from the travel gods, we had to abridge our stay in Oslo by a day. We caught the overnight train to Stockholm, Sweden that evening and got to our hostel at the crack of dawn. Needless to say this “Venice of the North” was impressive enough to cure our drowsiness, and we left to trek around our second Scandinavian capital city. We stayed on a small island in the middle of the city called Gamla Stan, or Old Town. Small pedestrian streets criss-cross the island and cars are found only on the parameter. The greater Stockholm area is littered with palaces, museums, parks, statues, and more islands. Never mind the nasty weather, Stockholm got us very excited about being in Sweden.

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Glasergenjord

September 8th, 2007

On our last full day in Scotland we hiked Arthur’s Seat and then caught a train to Glasgow. We explored Glasgow and discovered a nice area near Glasgow University with a skate park full of rebellious youth and a tag by Banksy (banksy.co.uk) The next day was a big travel day from Edinburgh to Bergen, Norway. We noticed two things about Norway right away; everything is super expensive and everyone is tall and blonde.

Bergen is a quaint harbor town with a lot of history. We got most of our meals from the fish market – essentially a big, daily farmer’s market with vendors selling anything and everything delicious. We tended towards the pancakes with fresh jam. Whale meat was available, but we passed. With so much history all around, the guided walking tour is almost mandatory for any traveler in Bergen. It was extremely interesting and gave us a good lens through which to view Bergen and Scandinavia in general. Our tour guide looked just like Dave Grohl from Nirvana.

The Floibanen (funicular) took us up to the top of Bergen and we stood in awe for a good hour before walking back down. We couldn’t help but notice an abnormal amount of ‘goth’ people all over Bergen and staying in our hostel. I later found out that one of the largest Black Metal music festivals was going on in Bergen – thus the abundant jingle-jangle of piercings and thud of big black boots.

Between Bergen and Oslo, we followed the ‘Norway in a Nutshell’ route. A train takes you about an hour out of Bergen, where you board a bus heading to the fjord country until you reach the water and take a ferry through the magnificent fjords. A symphony of camera shutters played as we made our way from Gudwvagen to Flam along the Stojer fjord. From Flam a train climbs up into the fjords as you head to Oslo. It’s an all day fjord-fest chock-full of landscape that makes a career in geology seem more thrilling than Formula 1 racing.

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Bourned

September 4th, 2007

Edinburgh day four. Lauren and I hit up St. Giles Cathedral and scrutinized the usual stained glass and priceless craftsmanship as well as a modern museum type installation about the troubling problem of human trafficking and slavery in the U.K. People (mostly women) from poor countries in the east are tricked into traveling west with the promise of employment or education. Once they are a world away from their homes they are forced to work as slaves (mostly prostitutes) and have no way of escaping. The exhibit displayed pictures and short autobiographies by some of the many people affected by this enterprise that goes largely overlooked by the British authorities and media. Check out slavebritian.org.uk and sign the abolition petition.

With this glimpse of the dismal state of humanity bearing down on our souls, we headed to Cadenhead’s Whisky Shop to taste their spirits. We got yet another crash course on the history of peat as we tasted different malts straight from their casks. We stocked up on some Islay Malt, the peaty-est of them all, and left for some lunch at our favorite coffee shop in Edinburgh – Black Medicine Coffee Co.

Having experienced enough civilized European culture, Lauren and I ended the night with The Bourne Ultimatum and all comforts of home – guns, explosions, and car chases.

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Edinbourrée

September 2nd, 2007

On August 20th, Lauren and I started the day back on the Royal Mile. Near the Castle is an old tourist attraction called Camera Obscura. You pay for a ticket, climb up through five floors of crazy optical illusions, and then pile into an archaic dark room (camera obscura is Latin for ‘dark room’) with about ten other people. Everyone stands around a big round white table while a guide manipulates the giant lens atop the tower above. The lens projects an image onto the white table and it is like being inside a camera (mostly because you actually are inside the predecessor to the modern camera.) The guide moves the lens around and tells you a little about the city as he works his way around the 360° view. The whole device was built back in the 1820’s but it is still as entertaining as ever.

We ate our giant vegan potato lunch in a park near the Royal Scottish Gallery and then went inside and studied the Andy Warhol exhibit.

Later, we dined at yet another vegetarian find near the King’s Playhouse where we saw a performance by the Scottish Ballet. The ballet was arranged into three parts. The first was designed around music by Radiohead, which was probably about as hardcore as ballet can get. The second was some sort of really modern minimalist ballet that had the whole audience rustling around with at least a mild case of boredom (the very novice ballet patrons like me came down with the boredom Ebola virus, while true dance aficionados like Lauren suffered only a common boredom cold.) The third part was a much more lively, traditional ballet that regained everyone’s full attention. Afterwards, we fouette-d our way home.

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Lochs

September 2nd, 2007

From the Lowlands of Edinburgh we took a tour of the Scottish Highlands. We left early in the morning and got back twelve hours later. Andy, our unabashed tour guide, entertained us with tales of Scottish history as we gawked at passing scenery between each of our seven destinations.

First, we stopped for breakfast and photos of Haggis, the resident Highland Cow. Second and third were some photo opportunities and the fourth stop was a quick lunch. Loch Ness was our fifth stop. We took off in a boat hoping to snap a candid shot of some monsters. There would be no Nessy sightings that day and to lift our spirits Lauren and I bought some strawberries. Stop 6 was a ‘cute’ little highland town and at our last stop we checked out a peaty waterfall.

One of the many interesting facts we learned from Andy was the history of peat. Peat is a special type of soil that is prevalent in the Highlands. It is what you get when a lot of organic material collects in layers and never fully decomposes into dirt. This slightly acidic soil grows over the years and can get very deep.

Highlanders used to cut out giant chunks of peat, dry it out, and use it as fuel for heating their homes, cooking their food, and most importantly, roasting barley and brewing beer. Of course, the Scots didn’t stop with beer – they distilled it into whisky. When the conventional oil-burning oven came about, many brewers started roasting their germinated barley without the peat smoke. This smoother, less smoky flavor caught on with the girly-men around the world, but it is said that a true Scottish Whisky is one with the vicious bite of peat smoke. As you can see, in Scotland it’s easy to learn a whole lot about whisky in only a few days. Scots talk about whisky like New Yorkers talk about New York City; they won’t shut up about it.

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Wilson!

August 29th, 2007

Our tenth day in Europe was one hell of a day. Norrie cooked us a hearty breakfast and as the Spanish would say, “salimos rodando,” “we rolled out” onto the misty Royal Mile in our matching rain jackets. We walked around the area and eventually found ourselves in the Edinburgh equivalent of a Book People perusing the interesting UK selection of books. We left Blackwell Books thinking that day was going to be the typical kind of day where you don’t brush up against, and make direct eye contact with, one of the biggest movie stars of your generation. We were wrong.

You know that kind of glance you give people as you walk past them on a crowded sidewalk? That instant of pure investigation, as if you were checking to make sure they weren’t someone you knew. Just as Lauren and I came upon a congested segment of the sidewalk with both lanes of people squeezing around a long bus stop line, we both found ourselves chest to chest with Tom Hanks. For the first millisecond that my eyes met his they were empathetically suggesting “Oh geez – crowds suck, right random dude I don’t know?” The unspoken message very quickly changed to “OH MY GOD YOU’RE TOM HANKS!” I would’ve had no way of knowing what my face looked like if Lauren hadn’t turned around with the same shocking expression bursting from her skin. We both were completely floored.

Back on the Royal Mile, the street was lined with miniature stages exhibiting live music and plays presented by mostly amateurs, but a few entertaining acts in between. It was still raining, so we decided to pass the time with a stop at Elephant House, better known as the café (brace yourself, Natalie) where J.K. Rowling began writing Harry Potter!

In association with the International Fringe Festival, we had purchased tickets for The Bacchae, a play featuring Alan Cumming (imdb him) as Dionysus. Before the play, we headed to Norrie’s vegetarian restaurant recommendation, David Bann, where we feasted on vegan delights at a good price despite the upscale ambiance.

A cab dropped us off in front of a theater crowded with old people. Finding our seats felt like being lost in Del Boca Vista. Our fears concerning the entertainment factor were quickly disbanded when, during the first few seconds, Alan Cumming (Dionysus) is lowered down, up-side down and bare ass. From then on it was nothing but brilliant Greek tragedy; angry lovers, murderous rampages, corrupt gods, and decapitated heads.

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Scottish, Not British

August 24th, 2007

Between Ireland and Scotland we listened to Spanish brain rumbling all night and traveled by bus and plane all day. The countless city lights were illuminating every exquisite building when we stepped off the airport shuttle and made our way to the Royal Mile B&B. The Royal Mile is the area surrounding the road in the heart of Edinburgh that goes west from the Palace of Holyrood to the Edinburgh castle.

The owner of our B&B, Norrie, was extremely nice. We talked to him while we got settled and then left to grab a light night meal at a vegetarian place he recommended. It was a little too dressy for us travel zombies, but we found a cheap, lively Turkish place near by. We were the only people in the place and it was pretty late. After the musicians finished their set for the night, the owner and employees started taking turns with the guitars and the whole restaurant turned into one big Turkish jam session.

At first light, our suspicions were confirmed that Edinburgh (pronounced “ed-in-bur-ah”) was going to be one of our favorite cities so far. The whole vibe has this swagger; a smoothness. Like Rome, the city was built on seven hills, so the eye is always faced with something new to check out. It’s like a good story with charming characters put together, an intriguing plotline, and a dynamic ending. In short, it’s really cool.

Edinburgh’s coolness is evident in the charismatic people it has inspired over the years. Sean Connery posed nude for art students. David Hume rocked the philosophy. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and J.K. Rowling wrote some cool stuff. Alexander Graham Bell and Chuck Darwin read some cool stuff. Tons of cool people did such cool stuff, and you can kind of feel it. If in Paris love is in the air; in Edinburgh, cool is in the air.

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Quays

August 21st, 2007

In Galway we stayed in an eight-bed dorm at the Barnacles hostel. Two of our roommates from Long Island showed early signs of snoring, which was troubling at first, but thankfully everything cleared up later that night. Throughout the wet afternoon we explored the town center. Our hostel was situated right on the main drag, which got pretty crowded.

The city was cool enough. We got our first taste for the Irish College-town vibe. Later I served a gourmet hostel meal I have been perfecting over the past seven days. Then, stuffed with broccoli and pasta, we left to see a traditional Irish music and dancing show that someone had recommended to us. It was an intimate theater and we got lucky and scored some seats up close. The group of 8 amazingly talented musicians played traditional Irish songs from hundreds of years ago to contemporary folk reels. The show was a perfect way to experience some authentic Irish music.

The next day we did the obligatory church and castle thing, saw Irish Army dudes surrounding a bank for some reason, relaxed at a park, and then enjoyed another round of my broccoli-spaghetti delight. That night we got a good spot outside of Taafes Pub along the main drag and people watched over some Guinness. Two German dudes, Ludwig and Winkler, asked to share the table with us and we obliged. We covered the important topics with them until it was time to head back and get some sleep for our big travel day coming up.

All was going well until 2 drunk Spaniards stumbled in and passed out. Within 4 minutes, they were producing a voluminous sound I didn’t realize the human sinus cavity was capable of. It was horrible, and no matter how many times the rest of us woke them up, the horror persisted.
However, we did find humor in the situation when our French roommate attempted to wake the snoring Spaniard with his best attempt at English, “Excuse me, sir… you are sneezing!”

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Dingle Berries

August 16th, 2007

On our second day in Dublin we hopped on the commuter rail to a small town just 20 minutes outside the city called Dun Laoghaire (pronounced ‘Done Leary’.) It’s a quaint, seaside Irish village with a beautiful park, a large harbor, and a long ocean front promenade. We ate lunch, took some pictures, and cruised back to Dublin where we would meet our interesting new hostel roommates.

While I was downstairs in the dining room talking to a young French computer scientist who was nervous about his new job in Washington DC on account of the number of Americans (including me) who have pointed out the extremely high crime crate found in our nation’s capital, Lauren was struggling to understand the thick Scottish accent of our new roommate. Mark, as it turns out, is an avid fan of roller coasters. He has been to 26 U.S. states “collecting” roller coasters with around 100 of his buddies in the Great Britain Roller Coaster Club. We (and our other Aussie roommate, Karen) learned a lot about Mark throughout the night. The fact that we could hardly understand him didn’t deter him the least bit from talking a mile a minute. We eventually realized he is a really good guy and a verrry big dork.

The next day we took a bus to Kilkenny. It was a pretty town with loads of tourists during the day and a fun local nightlife after dark. We cooked dinner at the hostel along side some self righteous Canadians who were just beginning their year long trip around the world.

Later, we had a pint or 2 in the basement of a local pub. There was a guitarist covering Johnny Cash (or trying to at least), a big crowd, and a “Hen Party” – the Irish equivalent of a bachelorette party. To end the night, we went upstairs and tried a pint of the local beer brewed in Kilkenny, Smithwick’s, and talked amongst the sounds of one of Europe’s worst DJs.

While waiting for the bus to Cork the next morning, we met a guy from Plano. He was nearing the end of his European trip and was proud to tell us he ran with the bulls in Pamplona. The best part about Cork was the slammin’ Chinese food we found and devoured (I devoured, Lauren ate gracefully.)

The next day, we caught a bus to Dingle and arrived to a sky full of sun. We dropped our bags, grabbed our cameras and set out on the 30-minute walk from our hostel to the Dingle town center.

A couple of nights earlier, Lauren had discovered that the McAuliffe clan originated somewhere around the area and it was really cool to think that her ancestors lived in such a picturesque landscape. After perusing the small harbor town of about 1,500 inhabitants, we grabbed a can of Bulmer’s Cider from the grocery store and watched the sun go down over the sea.

Later that night, it was hard to find a pub that wasn’t crammed full of tourists, but we eventually wandered into the Small Bridge Bar situated a ways back from the main drag. A violinist and harpist played a “mighty traditional session” and the Guinness flowed. The 20-minute walk back to the hostel was a lot less charming in the rainy pitch black of night, but we made it back alive and were welcomed to our 8-person dorm by a nauseating, bedpost-shuttering, snorefest already in progress.

The morning of the 14th, we celebrated our 6th full day in Europe by cooking a bountiful breakfast of eggs, toast, and jam. Ohhh, the jam. Like a hundred strawberries coating each individual taste bud. This day, Dingle was rainy and we arrived in the town’s center soaking wet to meet up with a group of roughly 10 nerds for a 2.5 hour archaeology tour.

With the son of a retired Dingle sheriff as our guide, we went all over the Dingle peninsula learning about the first inhabitants of Ireland, from how they used to claim land ownership to their underground escape routes in case of an attack from sea. Lauren and I sat shotgun, so we got to ask our guide a lot of extra questions.

We learned that a scientist was able to take DNA samples form the 2 most predominant surnames on the island and trace nearly 60% of the group of thousands back to one single male ancestor that our guide referred to as “the stud”. It turns out his name happened to be Sean O’Greenbyrg. We also discovered that the wild blackberries we had seen along our route from the hostel were safe to enjoy, and later gorged ourselves with the delicious berries (I gorged, Lauren picked gracefully.)

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Dublin’s Calling

August 12th, 2007

Eleven in the morning might seem early to tour a brewhouse and enjoy a free pint, but not when you’re in Dublin. The Guinness Storehouse tour does a good job of telling you how amazing the most successful stout in the world is, and the point is driven home when the first sip of “black gold” hits your lips. After enjoying our beer breakfast amongst the expansive views atop Dublin in the Guinness Gravity Bar, we hiked back to the downtown area for lunch a popular vegetarian restaurant.

Having already found and enjoyed St. Stephen’s Green, Lauren and I set out see the other major park, Marion Park. It’s another beautiful landscape with flowers, ponds, and strikingly green grass. Everything was serene and peaceful until all of the sudden, a giant snake struck from a branch of the tree above us and landed right in my face. Lauren did nothing to save me as I jolted backwards and let out a loud gasp. It was fake. Someone got us good. We walked a little further and saw a man in the woods holding the string used to raise and lower the rubber snake. He told us to go sign a release form from his partner around the corner because we were on TV. His partner explained that we’d been had by a candid camera show called “Prank it Up.” We sat down within eye sight of the prank to let me heart slow and watch innocent people walk right into the trap.

Later in the evening we decided to grab a couple pints at the oldest pub in Dublin, the Brazen Head. Within a few minutes of sitting at the bar, a local Irishman invited us back to have drinks with him and his friend. Before we knew it, we’d chatted the night away with our new friends, Cecil and Olive, and Brazen Head was shutting down.

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