I've seen them before. Hundreds of times. But only in movies. Hans und Helga, the two arrogant, brusque, German customs officers. Riding alone, undisturbed in my coupe all the way from Prague to Berlin was too good to be true. "Does any of you speak any English?" Why do I even ask? I've seen the movies...what fun would it be if they did? The concept is simple: show us all your stuff! Now! "Do you have anything that you shouldn't have?", is probably a good translation from their language. "No, I don't", hoping the are not searching for booze. Of course [View Full Entry]

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They work in pairs, they are big, and it’s their home court. In other words, no way of screwing them. They hit down on tourists with large backpacks, exiting the Prague subway. Prague is a very nice city. Lots of things to see, lots of things to do. Most locals are very nice. With European standards it’s a cheap city to visit. Still, most people choose not to pay the streetcars, buses, or the subway. The tourists take after the locals and neglect this basic detail as well. That is when the two big guys get you. Just when you think [View Full Entry]

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Summertime is the time when Europe is invaded by tourists. Tourists from all over the world. A large share of these tourists and a very noticeable category consists of American backpackers. On a pilgrimage they distribute themselves across the continent. They all travel with different motives, in different constellations, and with different itineraries. But they have certain things in common. Americans appear to have a born connection with country fellows. They all communicate with the next American like they’re family, although they may have met only a few minutes ago. This is what [View Full Entry]

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I'm usually not the sophisticated culture buff, trying my best to stay clear of museums and such. But I have some time to kill in Madrid, the home of some of the finest art museums in the world. And, since my student ID gets me in for free, what the hell...? My choice is Museo Del Prado, one of three world-class art establishments in the city. The choice is mostly based on the fact that this is where the classical art hangs. Paintings you can actually determine what they are portraying, as opposed to "modern" art. Picasso fans, do not bother [View Full Entry]

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It may be the weather, the time of the year, and the relative lack of a crowd. But, Andorra la Vella just seems like the most peaceful place imaginable. Beautifully squeezed into the valley, the little town just seems to live its own life. Despite the tourists. Summertime doesn't really offer a whole lot of activities, except for duty-free (cheap!) shopping. But it's the perfect place for the backpacker wanting to take a rest from the big cities and the regular trail of overseas and domestic youngsters. It's affordable, it's nice and clean, it's slow and calm, almost on the verge [View Full Entry]

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Right on the border of Andorra and France, on the French side, there is a train station. A train station and a couple of houses in the valley. The bus stops there to drop people off. The train stops there to pick people up. That is probably all that ever happens here. Luckily the train station has a ticket office. And it's manned. The only sign of local life. And, except for a small number of confused travelers, the only sign of life at all. There are no signs of habitable houses. What does one do to deserve a position here? [View Full Entry]

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There are beggars, and there are beggars. The reasons for begging for money are endless, and not really of interest for the people being bothered. But there are the kind of beggars that aggressively bug you for money or other valuables. They use an approaching "sales" technique, running all over the place asking for donations. Returning like boomerangs they tend to annoy the hell out of Everyday Joe. Then there are the beggars who stand still on a street corner, sit on a staircase, etc, with a little container in form of a hat, bag, or whatever where people can toss [View Full Entry]

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There was a time, not too long ago, when people did not have access to or use the communication technology that we today could not (seemingly) possibly live without. Before the breakthrough of the World Wide Web, mobile telephony, SMS, instant messaging, email, digital cameras, Ipods, DVD, or what have you…That was the case for the class of 1996/1997 in Malaga, Spain. Using the Internet basically meant calling the main campus - obviously in Spanish - to make a reservation to use a computer with a insanely slow dial-up connection. Useful for finding information, useless for communica [View Full Entry]

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The concept of a shot bar is really brilliant. A small venue, merely a room, with cheap shots up for grabs by the audience. The list of available drinks is displayed over the bar. This particular "chupito bar" is named Punto y Coma and is strategically located at the center of Malaga. It attracts the better part of the international student crowd. Despite the crowded atmosphere in the narrow alley, it's a good choice for complementing the buzz from the pre-party, before going to the nightclub of choice. The shot list at "Punto" is rather impressive; very extensive and with names [View Full Entry]

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Amazingly I had to be talked into going to see Laura. Ms. Pausini was to perform at Plaza del Toros - the bullfight arena - in Malaga. Two blocks from my apartment. At completely affordable ticket prices. And the cute girl had to nag on me to come...Finally we're there, moving around, forward, towards decent seats. The arena is not packed, but yet far from empty. The concert turns out to be something else. I don't recognize many of the songs, but with a voice not at all inferior to that of Celine Dion, the little Italian girl rocks. Big time. [View Full Entry]

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