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Published: November 8th 2006
Paris, France
So long ago with just two country patchesThe end has come. 90 days of living out of a backpack. Same clothes. Different routine. Every day for 3 months. Over 1200 hours. 12 countries. 13 languages. 2 continents. And 5 currencies. Living the life of traveling the world while staying in hostels - some sketchy, some pretty cool. The languages and terrain constantly changed. We experienced the foods, the lifestyles, and immersed ourselves in the history of each place we visited. It was a long road that once seemed to go on forever. One that we never wanted to end. The 6 overnight trains. 11 separate flights. And the 2 ferries. The crazy conductor. And the Gas train from Krakow to Prague. But here we are 3 months later, and we have seen the light. Our time in Europe has expired. But we will remember. Every little detail. Every crazy experience. Every city. Monument. And sculpture.
We will end one chapter like the last one.
You'd better remember this. Because people will ask you. Whether you want them to or not, they'll ask you how Europe was. And though you won't know where to start, you're going to have to have something to tell them. A shrug of the shoulders and "Good" won't be enough. So you'd better remember this. . .
Remember things like the traditional Dutch breakfasts that Bas and Beatrijs prepared for us in Amsterdam. How I will never have another piece of chocolate without thinking of them and the wonderful hosts they were to us. How we were spoiled and driven around The Netherlands eating huge pancakes for lunch and going to the cheese factory. Or how they pointed out every windmill to us because we were obsessed with getting the perfect picture. And the double-salted licorice they fed to us.
Or how we walked into Brugge, the quaint village that seemed like it stopped in time in the middle of medieval times. And seeing our first big piece of art - Michelangelo's Madonna and Child. The smell of chocolate walking past the Chocolate Museum in Belgium and our first bite into a Belgian waffle. And the beers. Oh, the beers. How the choices were so overwhelming. Too many to even know what they all were. And even more cheese.
And then there was the City of Romance, Paris. The climb up the Eiffel Tower. The way it sparkles at night. The loaves of French bread that every Parisan seems to carry. And the most intricate subway system that snakes below the city. And then there was the Louvre. How ridiculously small da Vinci's Mona Lisa really is. I still don't know what all the fuss is about. The cracked out prostitute wobbling through traffic in the Red Light District near the Moulin Rouge will forever be cemented in my mind. And, of course, the beginnings of our "Church Tour" began with the Notre Dame and Sacré Coeur.
The Germans came next as we were overwhelmed by our walking tour of Berlin and the immense history of the Nazi Party. We saw the Wall. Ate some brats. And drank some pilsner. I even managed to bump in to a friend from college on a pub crawl.
We crossed the line over to Eastern Europe and were amazed by the Polish culture. The pierogies. The beer. Another language. We were first introduced to the tourists' amazement and obsession of pigeons in the main square. The Krakow dragon that haunts the Wawel castle meters from Pope John Paul II's childhood home will chill and remind us of our adventure to the undergraoung lair. But perhaps the most trying site we visited was Aushwitz. The quiet sound of death and persecution. And the silent screams. And the terror that wafted through the air in the gas chamber. The images are not easily forgotten.
Czeching out Little Mother Prague was a like finding a diamond in the rough. The city is picturesque. The skyline amazing. And how could we ever forget when we were sparked to life in the middle of the night with screams of "Fire!" Tenille found her Beseda restaurant. I shot a bow and arrow. Our vacation part of our vacation began as we slowed our travels to a brisk walk over the famous Charles Bridge. The peak of our trip arguably came in the tiny village of Cesky Krumlov. We awoke each morning to the flow of the river and the beautiful landscape of the hills. The castle perched atop the town--one that only took 10 minutes to walk from corner to corner.
We couldn't get enough of Germany as we rolled in to Munich and stood for hours upon hours waiting for the Holy Father in Marienpltaz Square and for good laughs of the Pope Mobile. The beer seemed to taste even better here. And the ambiance of the beer halls and the English Garden were quite the experience. I've never had a beer so big nor seen a pretzel so large. The walk to these German treats will be remembered by the sights of foreign naked bodies soaking up the sun in the park. And then there were the surfers in the the city. In a small river. Disneyland also proved to still be the place no matter what your age. It just didn't seem fathomable that it was still capable of standing at the peak of the mountain. But how could the eccentric King Ludwig not build it there considering the inexplicable views of the valley.
Remember things like the dong of the bell that striked nonstop every 15 minutes while staying in the convent/hospital, or whatever it was, on the little cobble stoned sidestreet by the sparkling turquoise Salzach River near the home of Mozart. And the incredible views above the city looking out from the Hohensalzburg Fortress.
Or who could forget the enormity of Budapest with single blocks that seemed to go on forever. Learning that the city is actually divided into Buda and Pest separated by the fast-flowing Danube River. And the arrival to our hostel in what looked like a building that had just been bombed with its facade ugly as could be and the walls literally falling apart as we dodged chunks of concrete walking up the stairwell. And the smell and color of the Turkish bathhouse we visited. The biggest sauna we've ever walked in to. The small heated pools said the cure different ailments. We escaped Budapest just in time to flee the riots that broke out in front of Parliament to head off to Italy.
I then realized that nothing matches the beauty and the teeth-grinding frustration of stunning Waterworld, Venice. A place where boats jostle chintzy gondolas, and the pigeons almost outnumber the tourists in San Marco's. And when that damned pigeon plopped a wet one on my new, Italian, Euro-trash haircut that Matteo was so proud of.. And yet another bell tower we climbed. And Tenille's orange humiliating sheet she was forced to wear in the Basilica because she was wearing shorts. The absolute best gelato and pizza were eaten here. And how can we forget that? Our visit to Lake Como was bittersweet as the weather turned cooler and were forced to stay on land as we visited ritzy Bellagio.
We brought the cold and rainy weather to our "beach vacation" at the French Riviera in Nice and never saw the sand as the rain poured down. The visit to one of the smallest nations in the world, Monaco, was a jolt as we saw how the filthy rich really live. The personal yachts/cruise ships at Cannes by the Film Festival Theatre was another ridiculous site to remember.
Remember things like the lisp and strangeness of Barcelona's Catalan tongue. The long and wide streets. The unbearable heat in the city and stumbling upon the beach our very last day. The old guy wearing the "sock" as if nothing was out of the ordinary. And its brazenly weird, jaw-dropping church, La Sagrada Familia.
Spain continued to marvel in Madrid as we visited the Prado and Reina Sofia enjoying the masterpieces by Velazquez, Goya, Picasso, El Greco, and more Rembrandt. We stayed in center city next to the Royal Palace. The walks through the park. The relaxation in the row boat. All of the squares. The weird supermarkets with skinned animal parts hanging upside down. The cured meats that made Tenille gag.
The desert and rocks of Morocco came next as we witnessed our first Ramadan and rode camels on the beach. The excitement of the square in Marrakech. The dried fruits and nuts. Our dinner at the food stall. The snake charmers, storytellers, musicians, and other performers. The vast market where we lost our way numerous times. The tanneries. And the child guides that attempted to extort dirhams from our wallets. The strange foods when we broke the fast with other Peace Corps Volunteers. And the exchange of stories and culture. What life would be like with two years spent there rather than El Salvador. The weather was great and our first trip to Africa left us wanting even more.
Our last stop in Spain was beautiful. Seville's alleyways and squares outnumber the roads. The oldest bullring. Our walk through Triana. Better flamenco. More alive. The people spilling out into the streets from the bars. The tapas bar and cider. The Alcázar and its many gardens.
We had no idea that the Leaning Tower of Pisa really leaned that much. I still can't believe it's hanging in there. Our late flight and even later night bus ride left me with contempt for the bus driver who took us in an hour long circle.
Florence flourished with art and sculpture. The David is even better in person. The candy-striped Duomo seems so fake you could take a million and one licks and still not be satisfied. The expensive taste and funny fashion will not be something that we will be adopting back home. The Italian Ninja Turtle painters all left their marks here. Ponte Vecchio's Nazi-related history. Or lack of it for the better. Da Vinci's work was seen everywhere, even in our strict, by-the-book hostel that woke us up with shouts of "Buongiorno."
And who can forget Cinque Terre. The rains followed us there, too. But we hiked part of the trail anyway. The towns were beautiful. All the houses looked as if they would slide off the side of the mountain. The views from the vineyards of each town are cemented in our minds. Just a few more memories to file away.
Our Italy adventure was complete with a visit to Rome. A city with history around every corner. The Colosseum. The plazas. Roman Forum. And the Pantheon. Our visit to Vatican City, the world's smallest country. The coolest dome and design of St. Peter's Square. The size of the Basilica is massive. And the maggot dinner that worked out better at a nicer restaurant down the road. The Sistine Chapel and more Michelangelo. We did as much as we could. We saw it all. How could we not. We were there, and when in Rome...
It should've ended with a relaxing empty beach and sunny sky but the Greek gods were not happy that we had come from Italy, their arch rival centuries back. Tenille was eaten alive by undiagnosed little creatures in the middle of the night on the gloomy eve of Halloween. We trick or treated at the grocery store and drank ourselves to sleep to keep from itching. The bad weather kept us inside. We almost went insane watching 24 hours of the same old news on CNN.
Athens just got depressing. The look of the city didn't help much either. But at least it didn't rain. The Acropolis and Parthenon were grand in both size and importance. The Greek really know how to eat a full meal. They sure do get their money worth.
The end of the road has come. The journey, sad to say, is over. There are too many pictures, too many videos to forget what we have done. What we have seen. What we have lived. I'll be glad to get back to a place where one has the decision of choosing not to inhale smoke everywhere and anywhere he wants. To have space. Eating and living. My own bed. Accustomed food. And a language I speak and understand. A city that I know. A place that doesn't require a map.
Everyone has been flooding us with inquisitions to our future plans and we are still unsure. Our resumes are almost identical. International Business majors and Returned Peace Corps Volunteers with Spanish fluency. And, of course, willing to travel.
We thank you for coming on this journey with us and allowing us to share it with you. Hope it was enjoyable. We always looked forward to writing the updates and anxiously awaited your posted comments. See you soon.
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shannon
non-member comment
packs
how come tenille's pack is so much bigger than ryan's? if either of you guys are in oregon, give me holla!