Unusual travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God. - Vonnegut
Since I am keeping a prodigiously detailed journal of Chris' and my European trips (yes, keeping – I'm still in the process of writing it), I just thought I'd write this one LiveJournal entry for anyone who was still interested in listening to me blather on about them. It could also be useful in case I never do finish the journal, which is a possibility considering my pace. As everyone I’ve talked to about the trips has asked me, "What was your favorite?" and I didn't really have an answer, I'm organizing this entry in terms of superlatives. This entry covers three separate trips. On our first trip, we took a day tour of the lower Highlands of Scotland, spent a day in Edinburgh, and spent a day in York (in England, which I had already visited). The second trip, we traveled around Ireland, where we visited Dublin, Glenalough, Newgrange/Hill of Tara, the Erris area (where I did my masters research), Galway, and Cork. Our third trip was for three weeks and covered many of the major cities in Western Europe. We visited Paris, Bordeaux, Barcelona, Avignon, Florence, Rome, Venice, Vienna, Berlin, and Amsterdam.

Most unexpectedly favorite place: Barcelona.
I didn't have any expectations of Barcelona, and mostly associated it with songs about the Spanish Civil War. Despite, or perhaps because of those expectations, it was wonderful. La Ramblas was a ridiculous mess, overflowing with people, animals, and goods. But the real heart of the city was to the sides of Las Ramblas, in the Ciutat Vella, or Old Town. Although all of these neighborhoods have rambling back alleyways and tiny streets, we spent most of our time in the Gothic Quarter and the La Ribera district. The streets there were never anything but pedestrian, because they are too small for cars to pass through. My favorite bit was close to the Picasso Museum. There was one street lined with tiny, quirky shops selling clothes and bags made of colorful fabrics. It also had an Internet café, but it wasn't one of those brightly lit affairs with teenagers playing Halo. It was dim, partially lit with fairy lights, and served tapas with its web-browsing. The guy there was also incredibly friendly and nice, allowing me to use the Internet for free while he uploaded my photos. (Sadly, I have no photos of this loveliness, because the CD broke. L) On the next street over, there was a tapas-like café that served different types of food on little pieces of bread, called pinchos. Toothpicks held the pieces together, and when you were finished, they charged you based on the toothpicks. We stood at the bar, drinking sangria and eating little bread, amazed at the wonderfulness of Barcelona. If you have dreamed of wandering down narrow, romantic streets that make you feel like you were the first person to ever discover this place, you need to visit this city. Double bonuses for the distinctions of having the best modern architecture (La Sagrada Familia church is amazing) and a bar Hemingway hung out at where we were able to sip absinthe (nasty stuff!).
Runner-up: Edinburgh. A lovely medieval city, bursting with awesome culture as only the Scottish can do it. As we were there during the infamous Edinburgh Festivals, we only saw tourists, but as a trade-off, we got to attend a free comedy show. The hike to and view from Arthur’s Seat above the city was pretty amazing too.


Most historical city (ancient): Rome, Rome, Rome.
Could it be anywhere else? It was an incredibly surreal feeling walking through the Roman Forum, knowing what the ruins once were. I just couldn't wrap my head around it then, and I still can't. Knowing that you are standing where those who created and solidified many of the principles the modern world is founded on is astonishing. But what was even more astonishing was seeing how much was still intact after thousands of years. Despite vandals, there's no lack of ancient art or architecture in the city. In the ruins, I attempted to imagine what it was like at the time, with merchants hawking, politicians giving speeches, and ordinary people going about their business. In the Vatican Museums, I didn't have to imagine, and just tried to open my mind enough to take it all in.


Most disappointing (high expectations): Rome.
Sounds odd after my above entry, doesn't it? As much as I loved the artifacts and ruins of Rome, I wasn't fond of the atmosphere. It's a very busy city, above all. At times, I felt like I would have been calmer in New York. Added to this problem is that Romans have no respect for traffic laws, so walking as a pedestrian becomes a nerve-wracking experience. It didn’t help that Chris and I found the public transit system extremely hard to understand. (Maybe it's easier if you speak Italian. But it didn't seem to be.) Then, to top it off, people are constantly warning you about pickpockets. As I am a neurotic person, I ended up exhausted by the end of our three days in Rome. I would definitely recommend going, but a traveler might want to bookend it with more relaxing places.
Runner-up: Edinburgh Castle. I loved Edinburgh in general, but the Castle just didn’t have much to see inside.


Most disappointing (no expectations): Avignon.
Chris picked Avignon basically because it was between Barcelona and Florence and he had heard of it. This was one of the two places I wouldn't find a reason to visit again, along with Bordeaux. Our introduction to Avignon started badly, as our hotel was much further from town than we expected and we walked some distance with heavy backpacks. Admittedly, that was not the city's fault, but it didn't improve my opinion. Then, the next day, still thinking of the weather in Barcelona, I severely underdressed and froze my ass off. Who knew that Avignon was known for being "wind-pestered?" But more importantly than anything to do with my personal comfort, Avignon just didn't have anything terribly interesting. The Palace of the Popes history sounded intriguing (Popes wanted more power, left Rome), but the palace was no great shakes with little left in the way of decoration. Disappointingly, the audio guide didn't share any of the really juicy history with the tourists. The other big attraction is a bridge. A bridge! And not nearly as pretty as Tower Bridge in London (the famous one). The Bridge's history was fairly interesting, but not enough to rescue this from an "eh" reaction overall.


Most historical (modern): Berlin.
Berlin still prominently wears the scars of its history. The city has only recently completed the Memorial to the Murdered Jews and accompanying museum, as has the Jewish Museum. Both were excellent, serving as appropriate monuments and reminders to never let these events occur again. In the Memorial to the Murdered Jews Museum, there are replicas of letters from concentration camp victims to their families displayed in lightboxes. Although I had visited lots of WWII and Holocaust-related museums previously without real tears, I started crying as I read this letter. The Resistance and Käthe-Kollwitz Museums were other good ones that were a bit more off the beaten path. Of course, Berlin is also still deeply affected by the East/West Split. We saw creepy Communist murals that looked suspiciously like Nazi murals, right near the Berlin Wall. But we also saw the newly-reopened Reichstag, the head government building transformed back into Parliament after reunification. They built a giant glass dome observatory for the public, so when the politicians look up, they can see who they are really serving. The bombed-out Kaiser Wilhelm Gedächtniskirche church surrounded by a cultural fair featuring international crafters and food stands seemed to summarize all that was modern Berlin. Scars but with growth and beauty as a result.


Most oddly counter-cultural: Amsterdam.
No competition here, although Paris could be in the running. But Amsterdam was counter-cultural in more ways than just the pot-smoking. (Although I did try spacecake - no effect. Who knew?) For one, it was the home of Vincent Van Gogh, the epitome of the mentally disturbed artiste. The Van Gogh museum's collection didn't have some of his most famous paintings, but they had some fascinating pieces, and anything of his is a feast for the eyes. Along with the artistic history, there's a tradition of squatting buildings, where students can just move into a building that has been unused for a year and declare it theirs! In terms of politics, the Amsterdamers were the only ones to actually have a full-scale uprising against the Nazis (although it didn't stick). And of course, Anne Frank's family hideout is there, a space still burning with hopeful rebellion. But what I found most oddly fascinating is that the Dutch have managed to bureaucratize counter-culture. No matter what it is, from pot-smoking to prostitution to squatting buildings, the Dutch have a set of rules and laws about it. Overall, they seem very practical, willing to tolerate a lot if the government can find a way to control (and tax) it.


Most gastronomic: Bordeaux.
Bordeaux was a pretty little French city overall, lacking any major attractions. Admittedly, we planned on traveling to St. Emilion, but weren't able to because of time constraints. To make up for it, we took a wine class in Bordeaux with a wine chateau owner who was passionate about her craft. Although I've never liked wine very much, she taught me to appreciate its complexity and why the wine tasting might be more enjoyable than the flavor of the wine itself. While we were there, we also munched on the best grapes I've ever eaten, nibbled macaroons where they were invented, and chomped on fresh brie and baguettes for dinner.


Most artistic: Paris.
We saw an incredible amount of art in many of the cities we visited, enough that someone asked me if I was an art major when I was listing our visited museums. But the most appealing museums were in Paris: the Musee D’Orsay and the Louvre. The Musee D’Orsay was full of pre-Impressionist, Impressionist and post-Impressionist art, one of my favorite periods of art history (Monet, Renoir, Van Gogh, Manet, Degas, Pissaro, Seurat etc.). It’s in a beautiful old train station, and houses an incredible number of pieces that cause you to say, “I know that painting!” Perhaps even more importantly, it has lots of art that causes you to say, “I’ve never seen that one before! Amazing!” And the Louvre – is the Louvre. Not much I can say besides that the Mona Lisa is a bit overrated, but the rest is stunning. It’s the biggest museum in the world – as a museum geek, how can I not like it? Beyond the museums themselves, I felt like Paris as a city is currently more artistic than our other art extravaganza, Florence. On the second to last day of our trip, we headed up to Montmartre, where all of the artists used to hang out. It was rather late at night, but as we approached the Sacre Coeur basilica, we heard music. There was a guy singing with a guitar on the base of the basilica steps, and a large group of young people on the steps above him. Everyone was drinking wine, chilling and listening to the music. The musician and his friend even pulled up a couple of audience members to sing with them. Listening to the acoustic guitar while looking out onto all of Paris twinkling in the night was incredibly beautiful.


Most beautiful (natural): Western Irish Coast.
I know we didn't make it to what are supposedly the prettiest parts of Ireland, but look at this photo and tell me that it isn't gorgeous? On all of the Ireland trips, the scenery took away my breath.
Runners-up: Glenalough/Eastern Bogland in Ireland ( photo ) and the Alps between Italy and Austria (only seen out of the window of the train, alas.)

Most beautiful (man-made): Venice.
Chris thought Venice was odd, but I thought its mess of backstreets and canals were lovely. Once we got away from the masses of tourists, we were able to peacefully explore those backstreets. We saw an odd modern art exhibit (it was free!), lots of funky art galleries, and even a gondolier's wedding! The other gondoliers were gathered at the church steps, holding their gondola poles above to form an arch for the bride and groom. They even had a gondola decorated with flowers to whisk them away.


Biggest language barrier: Our hostel in Venice.
Unfortunately, Venice was not all loveliness and canals. The night we arrived there, we had Issues. We knew that we were going to arrive late at night, so we called the hostel ahead of time to let them know. The guy who answered the phone seemed to struggle with English a bit, but everything seemed okay. Then, when we got there, we had some difficulty finding the hostel – which lacked any sort of sign – but finally found the right place. Then the fun really started. The hostel guy buzzed us through the front door, where we walked through a dark basement, up the stairs and into what appeared to be a rather dim living room. The hostel didn’t have a front desk or lobby of any kind, just this room with beat-up couches and a big dinner table. We said hello to the hostel guy, to which he just nodded and handed us a slip of paper. Chris offered his debit card, to which the guy shook his head and said, “No, cash only.” Chris ran out to an ATM that I had happened to notice walking in (thank goodness), while I stayed with Vaguely-Creepy-Guy. I can imagine I looked a bit miserable, because he asked, “Your head?” to which I just said, “No, hot” while wiping sweat from my forehead. Damn heavy backpacks. Then several more minutes of awkward silence passed as we waited for Chris to return. Upon his arrival with cash, Chris took the slip of paper, looked at it, and paused. “Um, I don’t think we’re supposed to pay this much. Can you get the receipt out of the binder?” he asked me. I retrieved the receipt, printed off from our online reservation, and found that no, we didn’t owe that much because we had already paid a 10% deposit. So I attempted to explain this situation to Odd Hostel Guy, whose only response was, “No English. Pay this.” Needless to say, this was not an acceptable response, as the total on the slip was 30 euros higher than the total we owed. I attempted to communicate more clearly by pointing at the numbers on our receipt, and how the total equaled one number subtracted from the other. No luck. His only response was, “No English,” followed by waving the slip of paper that appeared to be ripped from the corner of a spiral notebook. After several similar exchanges, we finally gave up. Chris gave him the money. Then, to make matters worse, he said, “10 euro for key.” What?! But at this point, it was clear that it was pay the man the money or sleep on the street. So we handed over another 10 euros, and Chris went to bed terribly restless. It took him forever to get to sleep because he kept thinking about how much money he had lost. Considering that we spent about 100 dollars a day between the two of us (including all of our trains), that was huge. Thankfully, we were able to get all of our money back in the morning from the manager, who apparently did speak English. Venice was a weird place.


Most livable: Vienna.
After the incredibly stifling touristyness of Italy, Vienna was a breath of fresh air. I think we saw all of one tourist group while we were there. It wasn’t the most aesthetically stunning place, but it seemed like a terrific place to live. They had an incredible array of new art museums, which I would love to go to if I did live there. (By that point in the trip, we were quite art-ed out though.) The world-famous Vienna Opera offers 5 euro day-of tickets, allowing even the poorest of students to absorb some high culture. We visited a very cool interactive music museum, where I learned quite a bit about the physics and design of music. There’s a decent amount of green space, and a neat mix of old and new architecture. Even though we didn’t see a lot of attractions, I enjoyed the fact that I knew people lived there and it wasn’t just all designed for travelers like us.


Most desperate: Hitching from Ballycastle, Ireland.
On our Ireland trip, I had scheduled us to hike from the town of Killala to the town of Ballycastle. It’s about a 12 mile walk, but we started at 8:00 AM, so we had plenty of time to catch the 5 PM bus in Ballycastle. Although we were carrying 25-pound backpacks (at least), the trail was mostly flat and we had a reasonably slow pace. The walk itself was lovely, walking through green fields with stone houses with glimpses of the sea beyond. We even explored an abandoned abbey that was a historical monument, but definitely off the beaten path! So we made good time, and arrived in Ballycastle around 4. After sitting without moving on a bench for a good half-hour, unable to walk any further, we got some tea and apple crumble at a cute little tea house. Then we waited some more at the bus stop, not only because we had backpacks, but because Ballycastle is exactly one road. Literally.

So we waited, and at exactly 5 PM, the bus came down the road towards us. We good-naturedly waved to flag it down. Then it passed us. And kept going down the road without stopping. It kept going down the road without stopping! We both stared at it in horror, watching it drive into the distance. It was our one and only chance to get to our destination. There were no other buses that day. “Uh, Chris?” I asked. “Do you think it’s going to turn around?” “No.” “That’s not good.” “I know.” So we stood there, dumbfounded, for a few moments.

Then, we did what Irish people treat as the solution to every problem; we went to a pub. It happened to be conveniently located next to the bus stop. We asked the barkeep if she could call a cab for us, which she was more than willing to do. We didn’t want to call a cab because of the cost, but it was at least a 30-mile journey onwards to our hostel. Unfortunately, the one and only cab driver in the entire area (yes, that’s how small of a population there is) was at the doctor with her daughter, and would be at least an hour. While we waited for the cab, we explained our situation to the barkeep. She said that the guy who was normally on that route had died only days before and his funeral was today! So we gave that day’s driver a bit of slack.*

Luckily, the second guy at the bar was going (mostly) the right direction and said he’d drop us off at the next town over. We gladly accepted, figuring that at least a cab from there would be a lot cheaper. Riding with him and his daughter, the ride was oddly silent. He asked her a couple of brief questions, and didn’t ask us anything the entire ride.

Much to our surprise, he dropped us off at the intersection past the town. It was closer to our destination, but had no place to make a call from. (Our cell phones were out of batteries, sadly.) Then, just as we were contemplating what to do, what do we see? The bus! The bus that drove past us! He was dropping people off to switch buses at the intersection. So I ran up to him and said, “Hi! We were waiting at the bus stop in Ballycastle and you drove right past us!” He responded grumpily, asking, “Were you waiting at the bus stop?” I answered with increasingly less friendliness, “Yes.” He asked, “Did you wave?” to which I responded, “Yes, of course.” I then switched tactics, telling him, “We got a ride here, but still need to go to Pullatomas. Could you bring us?” I figured he would at least take pity on us, considering that he had already screwed us over once today, albeit by accident. Instead, his harsh response was, “No, I’m not going that direction.” He rolled up his window, and then drove off in the direction we were headed! Argh!

With no other options in sight, we started walking. We weren’t sure how far it was, but estimated at least another 5-6 miles. Despite the audible groans from our feet, we had no choice. We walked about 4 miles, attempting to hitchhike with no success, before someone finally picked us up. Funnily enough, she was actually going straight to Betty’s house (our hostel) to bring Betty’s son home! Needless to say, we appreciated her kindness, especially as dusk was falling.

*As I found out later from Betty, the previous driver had been sick for several months, and hadn’t just dropped dead on the route like the pub people made it sound. As Betty said, “It could be yesterday or ten years ago, it’s all the same to Irish people!”


Most surreal: Herding sheep in Ireland.
As the last bit would indicate, the public transportation in Western Ireland is terrible. So when I planned on traveling to the archeological site Céide Fields, I wasn’t quite sure how to get there and back. Although a bus passed by there in the morning, it didn’t return until past 5 PM. As we were out of food and there are no restaurants nearby, we had to get back in time to go to the small grocery store. Upon Betty’s advice, we took the 10 AM bus there, and planned on walking/hitching back. We had a good time at Céide Fields, walking around the site and visitor’s center, but we were decidedly finished by 2 PM. We were going to recruit someone from the parking lot as a ride, but figured that tourists were the people least likely to volunteer. So like the day before, we just started walking. When we first began walking, there were a couple of sheep in front of us. Now, sheep in the road in Ireland isn’t unusual at all. When you are driving a car, they usually scatter to the sides fairly quickly. But since we were walking, they must have thought we were herding them! So they just kept moving forward, just far enough for us not to be able to shoo them to the sides. As we kept walking along the road, more sheep saw the herd and decided to join. At one point, we had about 10 sheep in front of us! It was particularly funny because farmers mark their sheep with some sort of spray paint. So we had red sheep, blue sheep and green sheep. Chris was getting quite fond of his flock after a while, and seemed to be planning world domination with them as his army. Here’s a photo of Chris and his flock . Eventually, all of them abandoned us once they realized they were far from home. Shortly after, a lovely couple from the north with three little girls picked us up. They brought us to that infamous crossroads, from which we walked home.


Most quaint: Pitlochry in Scotland
We visited Pitlochry on a bus tour of the southern Scottish Highlands. It was the most perfect little town, filled with small stone buildings that looked as if they had been stolen from a fairy tale. Despite the traffic and tourists, the town still seemed idyllic and peaceful, with the Highlands in the background.


Most touristy but fun: Kissing the Blarney Stone.
Blarney Castle was silly, but cute. Unlike the English Castles, the people living in the Irish Castles were never super-powerful or rich. Which means that Blarney Castle was surprisingly small and narrow, with a very medieval feel. Kissing the stone itself is an experience, and not only because lots of other people have done it. (That just makes it icky.) To reach the stone with your lips, you have to sit on the edge of a stone ledge and lean way far back while you hold onto metal rails and have someone hold you by the waist. Regardless of its powers, it was fun to engage in a fun/silly/superstitious tradition that people have been doing for centuries. At one point, they used to tell the ladies that it was a different stone so that they wouldn’t take the chance and hurt themselves. The clear, sunny weather on the day we went made the Castle seem all the more idyllic and enchanted.


Most Just Plain Ancient: Newgrange
Newgrange was my favorite attraction in all of Ireland. It’s an ancient archeological site, which is more than 1000 years older than Stonehenge and far older than the Celts. The site itself is cave that served as a religious site (although the details are unknown) for Neolithic Irish people. There is a beautifully carved stone outside of it, decorated with an elaborate tri-spiral pattern. Newgrange is the only place in the world with this pattern, which is on both the entrance stone and a stone inside the site. After climbing around the front stone, we entered the cave, which slightly slopes up to a fairly large room with three smaller spaces off of it. The one space had a smooth white stone that looked very much like it had the imprint of a pregnant woman, which the guide thought was probably used for a baptism-like ceremony. The ceilings on both of the side spaces had a huge number of triangle-like, zig-zag, and swirly patterns on them. These patterns especially struck me, because they are almost the exact same patterns that I draw when I’m mindlessly doodling. The fact that unconsciously I draw the same things that were so important to these people from thousands of years ago struck a deep chord in me. But the space furthest back had no decoration, save the tri-spiral pattern. Despite the lack of decoration, it served the most important purpose in the whole place. On the winter solstice, the people believed that the sun god coupled with the earth goddess to bring about spring. The Newgrange structure had a hole near the entrance where the sun would gradually shine through on the solstice, and then hit the tri-spiral stone in the direct middle of the day. To demonstrate this, the guide turned out the lights. He then turned on a light that simulated the movement of the solstice daylight as it moved across the floor of the cave. It was incredibly moving. The experience and intimacy of the space made me feel as if I did have some connection with those people of so long ago.


Scotland and York photos: http://oxford.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2141862&l=95d0e&id=405889

Ireland photos: http://oxford.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2144699&l=6a9a5&id=405889

Continental Europe photos 1: http://oxford.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2147336&l=a4478&id=405889

Continental Europe photos 2:
http://oxford.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2147342&l=bdf04&id=405889

Continental Europe photos 3:
http://oxford.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2147344&l=38bd4&id=405889