First Visit to a Motherland

My Great Great Great Great Grandfather Andreas Eidelwein was born in Bavaria some time ago, although I did not see him there on this, my first visit to the great nation of Germany. So on May 25 (I had to refer back to my journal for this date, as I'm writing about five weeks after the fact now), just after sunrise, I entered the small city of Freiburg in the Southwestern corner of Germany and detrained at the station.

As I waited on the platform, I had an awkward conversation with a painfully drunk local, which ended as soon as I saw my friend Franziska, whom I had not seen since our travels together ended in Moscow a few weeks prior. I was happy to see a familiar face and we headed back to her house on the other side of the town, me riding a street car and her a bicycle, the bicycle being the preferred mode of transport in this university town. After a pleasant German breakfast we headed back out on the town, as I received a set of wheels (two wheels, to be exact) and we set about exploring a bit of this pleasant place nestled in the Black Forest.

After a tour of the downtown area, Franziska headed off to class as I rode a short distance out of town to a trailhead, at which point I locked my bike and ascended through green forest, eventually reaching the top of the hill that rises just south of town. I climbed the artful metal spiral tower at the top of the hill and enjoyed the 360 degree views of Freiburg and the forests and countryside surrounding it. I ate some fresh strawberries that I had purchased from the church market before descending slowly, savoring this glimpse of nature after so many days and weeks in cities.

I rejoined Franziska and her friend (whom I had also met on the train from Beijing) for coffee, then we bought a couple local beers and headed down to the river to sit and enjoy the warm afternoon. After we were thoroughly relaxed, we headed home to make a salad for the evening's barbeque (that's right, a real German BBQ!).

We rode to a big house in a nice neighborhood where several friends of Franziska lived, and the next few hours were spent eating lots of food and having compelling conversations with some truly cool Germans regarding guns and American culture, as well as other cross-cultural topics. I appreciated the fact that every one of them spoke proficient, if not fluent English, despite the fact that I was in their country. In the end I drank far too much delicious German wine, and Franziska and I rode home, not without stopping by a hip bar for a nightcap.

The following day, we met some of Franziska's friends whom I had met the night before and we had some lunch and relaxed on the campus lawn before the two of us headed out to explore the Black Forest. Our plan was to try to catch the tram and then the bus out to a chairlift that goes up a mountain, providing good but expensive views of the forest and the land. By an act of grace though, me met a kind young German woman at the second bus stop who recommended against dishing out 12 Euros for the lift and instead suggested that we follow her back to her village, thus providing a more authentic experience for far less scrilla.

Yes, as good American children we all learned not to trust strangers, but when traveling perhaps the opposite should be suggested. Besides, this woman spoke good English and was a Chinese herbalist, so she seemed trustworthy. We caught the bus with her and talked about her times living in North Carolina and also her times working for a popular German television host.

We got off the bus at the base of the chairlift but instead of taking that, we followed our new friend through the forest and up a steep and narrow trail towards her home. She described how she had moved out to this village recently to find a peaceful life, and as we rounded a bend and the place came into view, I understood what she meant. For the next couple hours the three of us walked around this small village upon a hill overlooking the Alsace Lorraine region of France, discussing history and borders and eating schnapps-infused chocolate cherry cake. This is the kind of experience that a traveler loves: free and "authentic". We eventually descended the hill and took the bus back into town.

That night and the next morning were rather uneventful. Franziska helped me secure a ride to Paris for the following day through a popular German ride-share website, so early the next afternoon, we rode into downtown, got some ice cream, then patiently awaited the black Mercedes SUV that was set to pick me up. The guy finally showed up and I once again said my goodbyes to Franziska as I disembarked on an awkward but rather interesting trip to the city of love.

I thoroughly enjoyed my short time in Germany. The people I met were incredibly friendly and accepting and I loved the relaxing atmosphere of Freiburg, a town which reminded me not just a bit of Flagstaff. It was a joyful feeling to know that I was really getting the local experience by staying with a native and seeing the place through her eyes. It was great to get out of the hostels for a few days, and I see my time here as some of the best of my European adventures.

Paris of course, would prove to be a totally different experience.

Full Circle

As everyone probably knows, I'm back in the Bay Area as of July 24. I have not abandoned this blog and will try to update it with the last parts of my journey in the next few days. I have next to nothing to do now anyway besides feel idle, so I should be able to accomplish this.

Love, brett.

Euro Catchup Pt. 1 - The Joys of Prague

Oh yes, a wondrous city it is, that Prague. The next stop on my whirlwind tour through Northeastern Europe was reached via an overnight train from Krakow arriving on May 21. I shared a compartment with an Indian guy and two giddy Polish girls but sleep was badly needed and I slept throughout the whole night, as is natural. I was awoken by the friendly Czech attendant at 6:30 am, just prior to arrival.

It was a beautiful, warm morning and I had a pleasant walk to the ELF Hostel, the place in which Andrew stayed five years ago when I failed to join him on his European adventure. I dropped my bags and killed the 4 hours until check-in time by walking around the hip neighborhood that surrounded the hostel and doing some reading in a park above the river. The afternoon was spent true to my travel style, wandering solo around the city in an attempt to record the plan of Prague in my mind for all eternity.

Satisfied with my efforts, I returned back to the hostel come evening and was fortunately sucked into the social backpacker atmosphere of the ELF Hostel. As it was Saturday and it would be a shame to waste my only weekend-night in this city, I went with a pack of Europeans and a couple lovely American girls (one from Portland) to a popular beer garden, followed by an underground club (underground not because it was obscure, but because it was in a basement). It was a night of Euro-beats to remember.

The next two days were filled with some more of those experiences of walking around the city and exploring holes in the walls and other Bohemian establishments. On Sunday I was joined by the two American girls, and later on a French-Canadian dude. On Monday I did some more of that solo-tripping until that night, when I had a mild evening on the town with some other backpackers. I found myself surrounded by loads of college students taking summer Eurotrips.

On Tuesday I had a ticket leaving for Germany, but not until the evening, so I spent this blisteringly hot day doing some minor shopping, buying a vintage Bohemian suit for the wedding with the help of the posh English shopkeeper, and a correspondingly vintage suitcase in which to carry it and the vinyl records I picked up (it seems that now that I'm approaching the end, I feel able to burden myself with a bunch of large vinyl discs and a formal suit). Otherwise I spent the day reading Nietzsche (I was going to Germany after all) and playing video solitaire on my iPod. I did get a chance to share a couple Budweisers (not that American barley water, but the real Czech Budweisers) with my cool Quebecois friend. After that I shouldered my rucksack and picked up my rockin' new suitcase and set off for the train station.

For I was heading on to Freiburg, a small city in the SW corner of Germany. I had a few hours of daylight before bedtime and my arrival the next morning at my destination. In that time, I hung out with some more Americans that were in the same compartment as me (Ok, seeing an American in Asia was unique and comforting, but it's getting old fast in Europe), before climbing into my bunk for the night.

And thus ended my Prague experience. And yes, it was a great time. I met some sweet people and got some Bohemian attire, and I just loved the spirit of that city. Sometimes it's hard to explain what makes your experience of a place good or bad, but it seems to be a combination of the character of the city, the situations and people you encounter in said city, and your own internal processes and emotions that coincide with it (OBVIOUSLY, Brett).

Ok, so enjoy this post. I know I'm a bit behind, but I think you will see why I have fallen into such a funk with my blog writing. There were simply better things to be doing. Since Prague, I have been to Freiburg, Paris, and London, and just today I arrived in that place that has occupied much of my thoughts and dreams since the first time I heard Sigur Ros, Múm, Björk, and all that jazz. Yes folks, I am in Iceland, and no volcano could keep me from getting here (though it remains to be see whether it will keep me from leaving).

More updates to come.

The Quick Stops on the Way to Krakow, or How I Gained a New Understanding of the Barbary of Europe

Aaron and I, having failed in our half-assed hitching attempt, boarded a bus to Vilnius and after some lively conversations, I soon drifted off to sleep, waking up a while later not knowing what country I was in. The answer: Lithuania. We watched the sunset behind a guy riding above the countryside with a parachute and a propeller strapped to his back, then waited a bit longer to arrive into Vilnius, the capital of this country. Leaving the bus station, fireworks in the Western sky celebrated our arrival, or perhaps marked the horror that is Eurovision.

Arriving at our preordained hostel, we again ran into our good American buddies Amber and Joe, as well as Josh who had come from Riga that day. The four of us Anglo guys went out to celebrate Saturday night until the early morning hours.

The next morning, Aaron left in a rush to continue his journey, while the Texans and I marched off to the Soviet Occupation/KGB Museum to see where politcal prisoners were imprisoned, tortured and executed, as well as some history on the occupation of 1945-1989 or so. After that we felt hungry and got some food, whereupon we wandered to old town for a while before Amber and Joe and I parted ways as they headed off to a nearby town.

Once again I was on my own and while farewells are sad, it is nice to be on one's own again. After over a week of staying up until the break of dawn, I happily did next to nothing for the rest of the day before going to bed at midnight.

I awoke in the morning to a steady rain and it seemed like a fitting day to get out of Dodge. I was more than ready to leave this group of three Baltic states and get to Poland, so I caught the one daily train to Seskotai near the border, whereupon I could catch the other daily train on to Warsaw. Again, the landscape was downright pleasant as I finished the New York Trilogy by Paul Auster, a generous gift from a good patrotic American named Greg that I met in Russia. Arriving in the non-entity of Seskotai, I walked across the train platform to a slightly plusher Polish train which about four hours later dropped me in the middle of Warsaw at nightfall.

With my hand-drawn map in hand, I found my way on foot to my hostel and passed the night uneventfully. The next morning, still feeling the itch to keep moving, and having heard from multiple reputable sources that Krakow was much nicer than Warsaw, I bought an onward train ticket on to the former and used the seven hours until my departure to make a cursory exploration of the capital of Poland. Here are some notes:

~ Stalin's Towers: In most major cities of the former USSR, Stalin ordered that large towers be built. All of them mirror Stalin's Seven Sisters in style. Here is a picture of the one in Warsaw:

You think he was perhaps trying to compensate for some personal defect?

~ WWII History: The war museum was closed this day, but the Jewish museum was open. The history of the Jewish ghetto was presented through images, video and text that demonstrated the horrors that happened in this place.

~ The "Old Town": 90% of the city was destroyed during the war, but they have done a lovely job of rebuilding it. Even if it's only 50 years old, it looks 500. Really though, I'm getting sick of these "Old Towns".

And then I left Warsaw by way of a Krakow-bound train. And thus began a great three days in that southern Polish city.

~ 5/18: I wake up earlyish and explore another "old town". I see Wawel Castle, a bugler in a church tower, a few hundred tourists, and those sorts of things. Really the best thing to do is to sit down and enjoy the show. In the night I share some beers in the hostel with a Kiwi, an Aussie, and a Guatemalan.

~ 5/19: In the morning as I'm about to leave the hostel for the day, I again run into Joe and Amber from Texas. I however have decided to take a bus 1.5 hours to Ocwiecim, aka the place housing the former Nazi Murder Machine of Auschwitz. There's no way to really explain my experiences there. I'll just say that I spent the day on my own trying to feel the gravity of this place, which didn't really hit me until I saw the shoes. After that I was ready to leave, and I brooded in a slow train back to Krakow.

I went out on the town that night.

~ 5/20: There was some sort of youth festival in the town square, which consisted of young people dressed in Bay-to-Breakers-style costumes consuming copious amounts of liquor. I watched from the sidelines for a while before settling down in the park to read and watch the people. A thunderstorm came and I ducked into a lonely pub, before returning back to the hostel to grab my bags and make my way to the train station to begin my overnight journey to Prague.

And that covers the week leading up to my arrival in Prague, where I now reside. Of course missing from this post, as from most, are all the intricacies of my encounters with people and my impressions of places; all those things that I can't adequately describe and will probably soon be filed away into the depths of my memory.

And I'm beginning to draw near to the end of this journey. I'm getting excited to see all of you back "home" whom I have not seen for a while, and of course nostalgic for all the relationships I've made along the way. Malaysia seems like a long ways away now, though geographically speaking it is no further away than is the Golden Gate where I began and will end. Well, see you later!

Riga

Oh yeah, Riga. The capital of Latvia, a country of which you probably only have the vaguest notion, as did I before going there. While Riga does not live up to the Disneyland romance of Tallinn, it certainly surpasses it in terms of character; at least this was my subjective experience of the city.


For the four-hour bus ride to Riga from Tallinn, I joined forces with Aaron, a hilarious English lad from Liverpool whom I had met on my last night in the latter city. A bit under the weather from the experiences of the night prior, I slept most of the way, but did manage to admire the green beauty of the landscape (hey, this looks sort of like the Willamette Valley!). We arrived into town about 6pm and walked the short distance to the Old Town Hostel, which, oddly enough, is located in Riga's old town.


We were greeted by John, the wild Irishman who runs the hostel, and who reminds me a bit of Colin Ferrell's character from In Bruge. We settled into our acceptably clean rooms and went back down to the Irish-style pub, which happened to be the main common area of the joint. If I had any intention of toning down the party routine, my intentions quickly evaporated. Aaron and I went out for a Latvian-style dinner at a self-service eatery before returning to the hostel to "take it easy" until about 2:30am with John and a friendly Texan couple that we met, Joe and Amber.


In total I spent four nights in Riga, even though I initially only planned two there. During the days, I would undertake the obligatory cultural awareness excursions, taking an alternative walking tour to see the gritty reality of Riga and its modern history, visiting the seedy flea market where all sorts of paraphanalia could be had, witnessing my first ever opera (The Barber of Seville) and traveling to a nearby Baltic beach town by train, where we climbed a vertigo-inducing tower and got wet in this sea and in the rain.


At nights, and into the early moring hours, we would get debaucherous, going to locals bars or clubs, watching John bicker with American boys who were staying at the wrong hostel, or on one occasion dropping in on a house party thrown by the Latvian girls who worked in the hostel. If twilight wasn't breaking by the time you went to bed, it was not truly a successful night. And it is surprisingly easy to stay up until 5am in this place.


When it came time to leave Riga, we were ready. Aaron and I were both heading on to the capital of Lithuania, and we had been mulling over the idea of trying our hands at hitch-hiking. We got some cardboard and colorful chalk and a sign was made ("VILNA"). We got some sketchy directions on how to get to the highway and took a bus towards the edge of the city. We saw a highway and got off, but it probably wasn't the right place. We tried one spot, and then a better one in front of a gas station, and sat dumbly by the road holding the sign at passing cars. We got a few smiles, but no rides to Vilnius. We gave up after a couple hours and rode back into town to take a bus, making sure to get a couple of beers to celebrate our effort.

With our buzz on, we boarded the bus on the evening of May 14 and set out towards the next little Baltic nation in our path, Lithuania (leave no capital city behind, as I say).

Big Catchup Post - St. Petersburg, Helsinki, and Tallinn

Arriving into St. Petersburg early in the morning on or about May 4, I had the definite sense that I was ready to move on from Russia. It is an intriguing place with lots to offer a traveler, but something about it just seems to put a strain on one's soul, and I was feeling a little bit depressed. To make this sentiment even sharper, I arrived to near-freezing temperatures and a steady drizzle in Russia's gateway to Europe.

My first hostel choice was full so I caught the metro and walked a fair distance to another place, dropped my bags there, then was forced to walk around for four hours until they let me check in. I used this opportunity to explore the center of town on foot and see the State Hermitage Museum, allegedly one of the best art museums in the world; to me it just felt exhausting. It did allow me an opportunity to warm my hands though.


As a result of the poor weather, I spent the greater part of my first day in St. Petersburg indoors. I finally ventured out just as all light was fading from the sky at about 10pm. I found an Irish Pub where I joined a pair of old Brits to watch Man U beat some Germans in the semi finals of the Euro Championship.

I awoke the next morning determined to escape Russia as soon as possible. I ventured over to the train station and inquired into a trip to Helsinki. I quickly purchased a rather pricey ticket to the Finnish capital on a high-speed train leaving at 3:30 that afternoon. I used my remaining few hours here to explore the grand government buildings, which housed the Russian government until the revolution in 1918.

Making my way back to the train station, I boarded the fancy European train along with a bunch of business travelers and rich tourists (a different crowd than in the rest of my Russian trains), and we were soon zipping towards the border at 190 km/h. The border crossing went smoothly as I was easily stamped out of Russian and into Finland, and the European Union at large.


And how grand it was to be in another country after two weeks in Russia. As if on cue, as soon as the train passed into Finland, the skies cleared, the sun came out, and the landscape turned sublime as we passed by small farms with nice cottages, all surrounded by a noble evergreen forest.

It took only about 3 hours to reach Helsinki, so there was plenty of daylight left. Feeling like I was about to blackout, I quickly procured some Euros and a sandwich, and was shocked into the realization that I was now truly in Europe, with outrageous prices to match. With some food in me and new strength, I walked the 2 km up to the old Olympic stadium which houses the Stadion Hostel, where I booked a bed for two nights. I rested for the remainder of the day, writing my reflections on Russia into my journal, reading, and otherwise enjoying my new-found bright spirits. I also admired the novelty of the fact that the sun did not set until nearly 10pm here, and there was still twilight at 11:30.


The next day in Helsinki, I set out on a self guided walking tour through the center. I bought a ferry ticket to Estonia for the following day, then went over to the central harbor and took a boat to the fortress island. There are, by the way, countless islands in and around Helsinki, low-rise granite outcroppings that reach south into the Baltic Sea. And it was good to see the ocean again, which I had not seen since disembarking Hanjin Pretoria so long ago.


The fortress island, which starts with an "S", is a naval base where the occupying Swedes, then the occupying Russians afterwards, protected their interests in Helsinki from other invaders. I navigated the tall stone walls and bunkers and enjoyed the seascape all around me. It was a pretty nice day in Helsinki and I was able to wear only a sweater.


After that, I explored some more of the city on foot, witnessing the mix of old and new architecture and the mild natured Finns, who spoke remarkable English. This has been the first country where I have not been motivated to learn a few words of the native language, mostly because my time here would be short and the incentive was low. Unfortunately, the restaurants, cafes, and bars here are damn expensive, so I opted to go to the grocery store and prepare my own meals, and not venture out to explore the nightlife. To be truthful, I was not feeling remarkably social here and was enjoying my alone time after so much time of traveling with other people.

My remaining hours in Helsinki were passed without event, and late the next morning I shouldered my rucksack and hoofed it down to the Viking Line boarding dock for my 3-hour trip across the Baltic to Tallinn, the capital of Estonia, a trip of about 70 km. The ferry had no assigned seating, only bars and restaurants, so I grabbed myself a beer and sat out on deck and felt ecstatic to be traveling the seas again.

So now I arrived into Tallinn early in the afternoon on May 7, and now you might ask, "Where the devil is Estonia?", to which I would reply to get yourself a map. It is actually a beautiful place that is trying earnestly to get over the Soviet occupation, as they call it. They are enjoying their new-found independence after fifty years of alternating domination by the Soviets, then the Nazis, then again the Soviets.


I ended up staying at the Tallinn Backpacker's hostel, a true party place located in the heart of the old city, (the old city being a cross between Medieval Times and Disneyland). I will not continue with a chronological description of my time in Tallinn, and I will just say that the nightlife here is something to be experienced. For three nights I stayed up until the break dawn, which does not take as much effort as it sounds in these northern latitudes. During the days I explored the history of this place in the museums and cathedrals, ate elk soup and pies in a 700 year-old town hall building, took a ride to the beach with a fellow Californian and enjoyed the relatively warm weather.


My time in Tallinn was highly social and filled with excess, and it truly was one of the more enjoyable places on this trip. Estonia is a place for which I held no preconceived notions, and I have to say that I'm happy to have known it. On May 10, yesterday, I joined up with an English guy for the bus ride to Riga, Latvia, another place that is full of beauty and wonder, but one that I can not yet explain. Out for now America.

Moscow

Sometimes I'm never quite sure if I'm seeing a city in the right way. Let me ask you this: Given three days in Moscow without a guidebook, what would you do? I tried to answer that question for myself upon my arrival there on April 30.

From the train station, Francizka and I boarded the famous Moscow metro system for a ride to the hostel. The subway trains themselves are nothing special, but what is really unique are the ornately decorated Soviet-era stations, which put any other metro station that I have ever witnessed to shame. During the one-stop ride that we took, a Russian guy who spoke some English latched onto us and insisted that I be facebook friends with him. The journey was just long enough to allow me to get his contact info, which I promptly forgot about until this moment.

Using my innate sense of direction and a picture of a map, we found the hostel and checked in and all that mundane stuff. In the afternoon we took a self-guided tour around the city center, seeing the theatre district, including the Bolshoi, then over to another part of town by the river, where we watched people drink in the square and then got some typical Russian fare at one of a chain of buffet-style restaurants called MY MY (Russian for moo moo; it was cow-themed). I retired just after darkness set in, at about 10:30pm.

The next day was May 1, which for all you ignornat Americans, is when most of the world celebrates Labour Day (yeah, I used the British spelling). Labour Day in Russia is no joke, though I awoke too late to see the parades, which I'm told were more like demonstrations. We did see one group of demonstrators, arguing at least in part for justice for some of those slayed journalists, corralled into a small alleyway, outnumbered by cops by 2:1. They were not very vocal.

Red Square and St. Basil's Cathedral were quite the sight. I took some pictures. I liked the onion domes. So after that, I walked around with Francizka and a good fellow American Greg for a while, until Greg and I decided that we both loved space, and wanted to go see the cosmonaut museum, complete with exhibits in Russian (which I can read, but cannot understand), a shrine to the first guy in space, as well as the real taxidermied bodies of the first two dogs in space; they died of natural causes, or perhaps solar radiation poisoning. Here is one of them:

After that it was back to the hostel to wait for that ever elusive nightfall, so we could go out to explore a bit of the Moscow nightlife. Greg had left and we were now joined by a good English boy living in Scotland named Chris. We went to a popular but not too fancy bar-club in the Kitay-Gorod part of the city, and it just so happened that we arrived on the weekly gay night. At first the place was somewhat relaxing; the music wasn't too loud and the people were low-key. But just before midnight the scene changes; the tables are removed and thus is born a dance floor. The DJs begin pumping the music and what seemed to be the entire gay population of Moscow jammed the smoke-filled club. Chris and I drank a sufficient amount of vodka and the three of us all felt compelled to dance for a few hours, while shirtless men..... well, it was an interesting glimpse of the Moscow club scene.

Later the next morn, I awoke with a heavy head and said farewell to Francizka who was heading back to Germany on a plane, then I went to Ploschad Revolutski and met an old friend from China, Nadya, who you might recall was one of my companions from Yunnan Province of China. She gave me a proper tour of Moscow (she has lived here for several years), as we walked around different parts of downtown, then bought admission to the Kremlin, the walled citadel that houses modern government palaces as well as 15th century cathedrals. My favorite part were some of these old cathedrals, which were painted from floor to dome with elaborate images, of the religious nature of course.

After a few hours spent with Nadya, I bid farewell to her yet again, as I had done just about three weeks prior, and I set off to do some internet research and try to figure out how to get out of Moscow (or Moskva, as the Russians call it). I figured I would take the night train to St. Petersburg the next evening, giving me another 24 hours to kill.

The next day I explored the city the best way I know how. Alone again for the first time in a while, I set about exploring my metro and foot, spending a few hours in a nice park along a bend in the river enjoying the great weather, until the schitzophrenic Moscow climate changed and it began to pour down rain. I saw some other places until finally it was time to return to the hostel, grab my bags and a quick snack, then head to the train station for the relatively short 8 hour journey that does not warrant mentioning. I got on a train at 10pm, went to sleep, and awoke upon arrival in St. Petersburg at 6am.

And that's the Moscow pooooossssst!