Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Rained out in Zadar.
Thankfully it'll pass tomorrow, but it takes a day out of my trip since anywhere I go around here its pretty rained out. I just met my new roommate here at the hostel, though, and I think it's gonna be all right.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Moving with the winds.
In my time here, I've attempted Mount Hum, the highest peak on the island at 587m, exactly three times.
The first day we attempted a path pretty much straight up from the Benedictine monastery which overlooks our town. It was in the guidebook. We stopped about a third of the way up after losing the path, pushing through trees and over loose rock to come to a dead stop at thick um, foilage.
My second attempt, solo, followed a marked path (by the red and white targets and stripes, which are apparently universal in Europe), but as I ascended, I realized the path strayed further and further from the peak of Mount Hum. After pushing through overgrown trees and brush, I found myself on the other side of the island and near a little town called Podhumlje, but I was disappointed to find the road had simply crossed one end of the island instead of ascending to the peak.
My third attempt took me back to Podhumlje, this time by the paved road, and then to Podšpilje ("špilje" means "cave" in Croatian). This road took me around the southwest corner of the island. From there I cut north toward Žena Glava and then started the upward climb first to Titova Špilja (Tito's Cave), and then up to the peak of Mount Hum.
Tito's Cave was pretty cool. I admit there wasn't that much to see, but I liked the idea that Josip Broz Tito had brought his goonies up here to make plans during World War II. Tito was the Communist Party leader of Yugoslavia back in the day. Yes, he was a Communist, but he did a damn fine job of holding this place together for as long as he did. I of course took a auto-timed picture of myself in the cave, arms in the air, looking very excited.
The peak of Mount Hum was not that far off, and I made it there in good time. From here, you can see the whole rest of the island, including my little town of Komiža, all the way to the other end at Vis town, where the ferry comes in. There was a chapel at the top and a few humming TV/radio towers, as well as a military thing and a guard tower, which I avoided, although I didn't see anyone manning it at the time.
I made it there and back in about 7 hours' time and subsequently got quite sunburnt. It was a good feeling though, to know that I had walked the entire height of my new little island home.
That very same night, our hosts invited us to a homemade dinner of grilled fish and komiška pogača (anchovy pasty, by the guidebook's explanation). We started off with a toast of what I assume was sljivovica (plum brandy), and then started in on dinner. Oh, bliss. Of course there are pictures coming. There are tons and tons of stories about our hosts, but I need to stop at some point.
What a wonderful time I've had here. New friends, new food, new language, new experiences. It's been a little bit of a rollercoaster facing both the mountain and the ocean, inner and outer fears, but I've come out the other side in one piece, and now I'm ready to go.
It's funny: the night we came in to Komiža, we were told that the winds had been blowing for five days. It rained a bit that night, but the following week was beautiful. And as of last night, the winds began blowing again. It's time to leave.
See you at the next place.
The first day we attempted a path pretty much straight up from the Benedictine monastery which overlooks our town. It was in the guidebook. We stopped about a third of the way up after losing the path, pushing through trees and over loose rock to come to a dead stop at thick um, foilage.
My second attempt, solo, followed a marked path (by the red and white targets and stripes, which are apparently universal in Europe), but as I ascended, I realized the path strayed further and further from the peak of Mount Hum. After pushing through overgrown trees and brush, I found myself on the other side of the island and near a little town called Podhumlje, but I was disappointed to find the road had simply crossed one end of the island instead of ascending to the peak.
My third attempt took me back to Podhumlje, this time by the paved road, and then to Podšpilje ("špilje" means "cave" in Croatian). This road took me around the southwest corner of the island. From there I cut north toward Žena Glava and then started the upward climb first to Titova Špilja (Tito's Cave), and then up to the peak of Mount Hum.
Tito's Cave was pretty cool. I admit there wasn't that much to see, but I liked the idea that Josip Broz Tito had brought his goonies up here to make plans during World War II. Tito was the Communist Party leader of Yugoslavia back in the day. Yes, he was a Communist, but he did a damn fine job of holding this place together for as long as he did. I of course took a auto-timed picture of myself in the cave, arms in the air, looking very excited.
The peak of Mount Hum was not that far off, and I made it there in good time. From here, you can see the whole rest of the island, including my little town of Komiža, all the way to the other end at Vis town, where the ferry comes in. There was a chapel at the top and a few humming TV/radio towers, as well as a military thing and a guard tower, which I avoided, although I didn't see anyone manning it at the time.
I made it there and back in about 7 hours' time and subsequently got quite sunburnt. It was a good feeling though, to know that I had walked the entire height of my new little island home.
That very same night, our hosts invited us to a homemade dinner of grilled fish and komiška pogača (anchovy pasty, by the guidebook's explanation). We started off with a toast of what I assume was sljivovica (plum brandy), and then started in on dinner. Oh, bliss. Of course there are pictures coming. There are tons and tons of stories about our hosts, but I need to stop at some point.
What a wonderful time I've had here. New friends, new food, new language, new experiences. It's been a little bit of a rollercoaster facing both the mountain and the ocean, inner and outer fears, but I've come out the other side in one piece, and now I'm ready to go.
It's funny: the night we came in to Komiža, we were told that the winds had been blowing for five days. It rained a bit that night, but the following week was beautiful. And as of last night, the winds began blowing again. It's time to leave.
See you at the next place.
Lessons in Croatian.
- If you want six slices of podravec, you can ask for the "sir podravec" (podravec cheese) and say "šest krišaka, molim vas".
- When quoted a price at the grocery, you can pretend you know Croatian numbers by giving the cashier a large bill (large enough to cover the cost), and say, "Ja samo imam dvjesta kuna." ("I only have 200 kuna.") It's a good way to get change, too. This works best at groceries frequented by foreigners (where they are prepared to give change for large bills), otherwise you will get a feisty look and a request for exact change.
- Don't say "hljeb" at a Croatian dinner table, otherwise Pepe will chastise you. ("Hljeb" is the Bosnian and/or Serb word for bread. But definitely not Croatian.)
- You can try as hard as you can to remember the three long words on a sign over a pile of rubble, or even take a picture for later translation, but when you see the same words on a sign in the middle of a dump, it probably means "Dump".
- Sometimes the pekara (bakery) doesn't have signs on all of the tasty goodies in the window, but if you say "čokoladno" (chocolate), you can't go wrong.
- When quoted a price at the grocery, you can pretend you know Croatian numbers by giving the cashier a large bill (large enough to cover the cost), and say, "Ja samo imam dvjesta kuna." ("I only have 200 kuna.") It's a good way to get change, too. This works best at groceries frequented by foreigners (where they are prepared to give change for large bills), otherwise you will get a feisty look and a request for exact change.
- Don't say "hljeb" at a Croatian dinner table, otherwise Pepe will chastise you. ("Hljeb" is the Bosnian and/or Serb word for bread. But definitely not Croatian.)
- You can try as hard as you can to remember the three long words on a sign over a pile of rubble, or even take a picture for later translation, but when you see the same words on a sign in the middle of a dump, it probably means "Dump".
- Sometimes the pekara (bakery) doesn't have signs on all of the tasty goodies in the window, but if you say "čokoladno" (chocolate), you can't go wrong.
Friday, May 26, 2006
So, it's Friday morning...
... and I'm still here.
I'm on a remote island off the coast of Croatia called Vis, staying in a town on the opposite side of the ferry stop. The town is called Komiža. It's quite small and there's lots of hiking to be done. I'm living in an apartment with two other people for the equivalent of $18 a night. We have our own kitchen, and a balcony that overlooks the entire town, the harbour, and out to the Adriatic Sea. It's quite blissful and I have no real desire to move on right away.
More later, but the sun is calling, and so is my stomach.
I'm on a remote island off the coast of Croatia called Vis, staying in a town on the opposite side of the ferry stop. The town is called Komiža. It's quite small and there's lots of hiking to be done. I'm living in an apartment with two other people for the equivalent of $18 a night. We have our own kitchen, and a balcony that overlooks the entire town, the harbour, and out to the Adriatic Sea. It's quite blissful and I have no real desire to move on right away.
More later, but the sun is calling, and so is my stomach.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Another definition of Split.
Usage 3: In local(ish) news, Montenegro splits from Serbia with 55.5% over a needed 55% vote. Voter turnout was over 86%. This is the end of the former Yugoslavia. Montenegro hasn't been independent for some 90 years.
Croatia, part deux.
I've been told by several different sources and friends that traveling is one of the few times in life where you can't really make a mistake.
So, I decided after all my careful planning and commitment to taking Bosnian language lessons in Sarajevo, that the idea of staying in one place for half of my trip was too stifling, and that I needed to move on.
By chance, I was able to email-tag the friends I made in Dubrovnik and meet up with them in Sarajevo for lunch. (Funny how that happens.) After hearing my woes, they offered for me to accompany them to Split, a coastal town in Croatia. They told me to meet them for the afternoon train to Mostar if I decided I wanted to go.
And a day later, I find myself in Split.
As always, I am ever learning just as much about myself as I am about the places I'm traveling to. Some folks do better with no plan at all, but I find I do much better if I set a timeline for myself and stick to it.
Anyway, I'm taking a ferry this afternoon to a little island off the coast called Vis; I'll spend two nights there and then move on Thursday morning. I think from now on I'll plan for two or three nights' stay and then stay longer if I feel like it.
By the way, I'm at the coolest place ever -- one of the few coin-operated laundromats in this part of the world (usually you'd pay by the load for someone else to do it), and it has an internet cafe, to boot. Two creature comforts in one. I love it.
So, I decided after all my careful planning and commitment to taking Bosnian language lessons in Sarajevo, that the idea of staying in one place for half of my trip was too stifling, and that I needed to move on.
By chance, I was able to email-tag the friends I made in Dubrovnik and meet up with them in Sarajevo for lunch. (Funny how that happens.) After hearing my woes, they offered for me to accompany them to Split, a coastal town in Croatia. They told me to meet them for the afternoon train to Mostar if I decided I wanted to go.
And a day later, I find myself in Split.
As always, I am ever learning just as much about myself as I am about the places I'm traveling to. Some folks do better with no plan at all, but I find I do much better if I set a timeline for myself and stick to it.
Anyway, I'm taking a ferry this afternoon to a little island off the coast called Vis; I'll spend two nights there and then move on Thursday morning. I think from now on I'll plan for two or three nights' stay and then stay longer if I feel like it.
By the way, I'm at the coolest place ever -- one of the few coin-operated laundromats in this part of the world (usually you'd pay by the load for someone else to do it), and it has an internet cafe, to boot. Two creature comforts in one. I love it.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Split.
Definition 1: Proper noun. A coastal town in Croatia, known for being the final resting place of the Roman Emperor Diocletian.
Definition 2: Verb, slang. To leave.
I'll know for sure in a few hours, but it looks as if I'm going to (Definition 2) to (Definition 1).
Friday, May 19, 2006
Home sweet Sarajevo.
I just returned from the language school; I will be taking private lessons in Bosnian for the next two weeks here in Sarajevo. The lessons are only two hours long, so I'm not sure how much I'll learn. I hope to push myself and learn as much as possible; however the only text I own is for Serbian, so I'm afraid to learn stuff I might have to just unlearn soon thereafter. And I'm not eager to find out the hard way by being overtly offensive with Serbian dialect. (I have yet to hear a "Zdravo!" (Hello!) which is the first thing they teach you.)
I'm starting to get a bit of the homesickness; at times it can be quite isolating to live in a city where no one speaks your language unless you are speaking to them. I remember how elating it's been the last few times I ran into an English speaker and now I've entered an expanse of time where I might not encounter any at all. It's a bit daunting. I've made a few places into regular stops in town; my new favorite is the little bookstore/stand next to the university's economics department. And of course my home away from home is this internet cafe -- Albatros, that's just a few blocks from the house I'm staying in.
Unfortunately the newness of this place wore off the first few days with my travel partner, so I wasn't really able to capture it by blog. And I've reached the point where there's so much to say, but where to start?
The train ride from Mostar was recommended in the travel guide, and while the sights were quite beautiful -- scenes of small villages and orchards interspersed with deep and fast-running rivers characteristic of this land -- almost half of it was spent in one tunnel or another. Nevertheless, it was indeed worth the price of admission in order to sit in awe and wonder at another one of man's "cool things" -- a railroad through the mountains and over rivers. A few of the more rural train stops were greeted with folks sitting on the porch of their cottages, taking in the view as much as we were.
Arrival in Sarajevo was a moment for me. I hadn't seen many pictures, even in movies, so the tall (tall!)buildings and spread of suburbia was quite a scene. It reminded me a bit of California in ways. This city has a population of over 600,000, so it's not small, although the main downtown (composed of Novi Grad and Baščaršija) is only about a mile from end to end, and several blocks deep.
The architecture is so varied in this town; there are mosques and synagogues and both eastern and western orthodox churches. In addition, there are the influences from Austro-Hungarian times (beautiful) to Communist-era structures (real eyesores). And there's Baščaršija, the traditional market shops which have been here for probably centuries, with coppersmiths and restaurants and craft shops, and Novi Grad, the new town modern shopping walks, with places like United Colors of Benetton (but no Starbucks, and no McDonalds).
There is construction everywhere; the roads, buildings -- everything is being worked on. Evidence of war is not glaring, but still there if you want to see it. Bulletholes still riddle some buildings, and some of the most beautiful structures, like the National Library, are still yet to be reconstructed; they sit gray, empty and lifeless. In the modern part of the city, there are "sarajevo roses", which appear in the ground as red splotches, right in the middle of the walks. This is where mortar shells fell and left their mark -- the holes have been filled in with hard red paint, and sometimes there are gold plaques on the walls with the names of the lives taken by those mortar shells.
In the Baščaršija, you can buy wartime memorabilia, like pens and vessels made out of empty shells. I remember in Mostar there were actual helmets for sale, and patches. The bigger shells have been carved with designs by the coppersmiths, usually a relief of the cityscape and "Sarajevo" in large letters. I have very mixed feelings about these.
You can still see NATO people driving and walking about everywhere, although I'm not quite sure what they're here for. Mostly I see them driving in pairs in jeeps, or eating at restaurants. And at the corners of the main city are graveyards with new, white gravestones, all with the same death years: 1992-1995.
I'm under the impression that these things are part of the norm for people living here in Sarajevo; they don't really affect daily lives, although they have not forgotten the war. They're just moving on.
Daily life here is much more lively than the depression one might think would exist here. That's probably at best an outsider's perspective. At times I wonder if the people ever work, because midday on a weekday the cafes (with mostly outdoor seating) are full of people drinking coffee and people-watching in both parts of town. And they sit there all day. Or they shop. It's quite lovely, actually. And the coffee is so so good.
So I've made this my new home for a while. I could drink Bosnian coffee and eat burek for the rest of my life, so I guess I found a pretty good place to settle. There'll be more stories soon, but for now this is my general painting of Sarajevo, my "resting place".
I'm starting to get a bit of the homesickness; at times it can be quite isolating to live in a city where no one speaks your language unless you are speaking to them. I remember how elating it's been the last few times I ran into an English speaker and now I've entered an expanse of time where I might not encounter any at all. It's a bit daunting. I've made a few places into regular stops in town; my new favorite is the little bookstore/stand next to the university's economics department. And of course my home away from home is this internet cafe -- Albatros, that's just a few blocks from the house I'm staying in.
Unfortunately the newness of this place wore off the first few days with my travel partner, so I wasn't really able to capture it by blog. And I've reached the point where there's so much to say, but where to start?
The train ride from Mostar was recommended in the travel guide, and while the sights were quite beautiful -- scenes of small villages and orchards interspersed with deep and fast-running rivers characteristic of this land -- almost half of it was spent in one tunnel or another. Nevertheless, it was indeed worth the price of admission in order to sit in awe and wonder at another one of man's "cool things" -- a railroad through the mountains and over rivers. A few of the more rural train stops were greeted with folks sitting on the porch of their cottages, taking in the view as much as we were.
Arrival in Sarajevo was a moment for me. I hadn't seen many pictures, even in movies, so the tall (tall!)buildings and spread of suburbia was quite a scene. It reminded me a bit of California in ways. This city has a population of over 600,000, so it's not small, although the main downtown (composed of Novi Grad and Baščaršija) is only about a mile from end to end, and several blocks deep.
The architecture is so varied in this town; there are mosques and synagogues and both eastern and western orthodox churches. In addition, there are the influences from Austro-Hungarian times (beautiful) to Communist-era structures (real eyesores). And there's Baščaršija, the traditional market shops which have been here for probably centuries, with coppersmiths and restaurants and craft shops, and Novi Grad, the new town modern shopping walks, with places like United Colors of Benetton (but no Starbucks, and no McDonalds).
There is construction everywhere; the roads, buildings -- everything is being worked on. Evidence of war is not glaring, but still there if you want to see it. Bulletholes still riddle some buildings, and some of the most beautiful structures, like the National Library, are still yet to be reconstructed; they sit gray, empty and lifeless. In the modern part of the city, there are "sarajevo roses", which appear in the ground as red splotches, right in the middle of the walks. This is where mortar shells fell and left their mark -- the holes have been filled in with hard red paint, and sometimes there are gold plaques on the walls with the names of the lives taken by those mortar shells.
In the Baščaršija, you can buy wartime memorabilia, like pens and vessels made out of empty shells. I remember in Mostar there were actual helmets for sale, and patches. The bigger shells have been carved with designs by the coppersmiths, usually a relief of the cityscape and "Sarajevo" in large letters. I have very mixed feelings about these.
You can still see NATO people driving and walking about everywhere, although I'm not quite sure what they're here for. Mostly I see them driving in pairs in jeeps, or eating at restaurants. And at the corners of the main city are graveyards with new, white gravestones, all with the same death years: 1992-1995.
I'm under the impression that these things are part of the norm for people living here in Sarajevo; they don't really affect daily lives, although they have not forgotten the war. They're just moving on.
Daily life here is much more lively than the depression one might think would exist here. That's probably at best an outsider's perspective. At times I wonder if the people ever work, because midday on a weekday the cafes (with mostly outdoor seating) are full of people drinking coffee and people-watching in both parts of town. And they sit there all day. Or they shop. It's quite lovely, actually. And the coffee is so so good.
So I've made this my new home for a while. I could drink Bosnian coffee and eat burek for the rest of my life, so I guess I found a pretty good place to settle. There'll be more stories soon, but for now this is my general painting of Sarajevo, my "resting place".
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Sarajevo.
"Sarajevo" apparently comes from the word "saraj" for "resting place". Within the first moments of walking this city I had a feeling I wanted to rest here, to stay a bit longer. It was a friend that pointed out the wicked irony of the meaning "resting place" though, and with the number of graveyards surrounding the main town, the double meaning certainly applies.
Nevertheless, I've fallen for this city and plan to stay for a while.
So, yeah -- that list I made a few posts ago? I think I might scrap everything on it after Sarajevo. The dot stops here. Tomorrow I'm meeting with a language tutor from the Soroš School to do some initial evaluation and hopefully write up some plans for me to learn some intensive Bosnian during my last two weeks here.
Sweet.
Nevertheless, I've fallen for this city and plan to stay for a while.
So, yeah -- that list I made a few posts ago? I think I might scrap everything on it after Sarajevo. The dot stops here. Tomorrow I'm meeting with a language tutor from the Soroš School to do some initial evaluation and hopefully write up some plans for me to learn some intensive Bosnian during my last two weeks here.
Sweet.
Odd moment.
Sitting in an internet cafe in Sarajevo with a bunch of teenagers playing FPSs.
(FPS = short for First Person Shooter, aka shoot-em-up games.)
To put it plainly, it's a messy bit of irony as, just over ten years ago, people here were running down the streets, avoiding snipers as part of their daily routine.
(FPS = short for First Person Shooter, aka shoot-em-up games.)
To put it plainly, it's a messy bit of irony as, just over ten years ago, people here were running down the streets, avoiding snipers as part of their daily routine.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
A short post from Sarajevo.
I'll be posting more soon, but the past few days I've spent with a new friend, who leaves tomorrow, so I haven't had the same luxurious amount of downtime in which to post.
Monday, May 15, 2006
10-minute post.
Here's a run-down of approximately everything that's happened in the past few days.
- I had the best spaghetti and mussels ever.
- I found white chocolate hazelnut gelato.
- I discovered Dubrovnik's Stari Grad is even more gorgeous at night.
- I found two linguists (or they found me!) and chatted all night.
- Left Dubrovnik.
- Got a bus to Ploce, discovered coastal Croatia on the way... wow.
- Train to Mostar, crossed the border.
- Met a Brit.
- Got out of train fare.
- Got even better accomodation in Mostar - a whole flat to myself!
- Worked on my Bosnian in the grocery last night.
- Had a chat with my host about the war.
- TURKISH COFFEE.
- Ćevapi! I love Bosnian food.
- Watched a guy jump off of Stari Most (Old Bridge), discovered the Divers' Club.
- Walked through Mostar's Old Town, shopped.
Tomorrow I leave for Sarajevo!
- I had the best spaghetti and mussels ever.
- I found white chocolate hazelnut gelato.
- I discovered Dubrovnik's Stari Grad is even more gorgeous at night.
- I found two linguists (or they found me!) and chatted all night.
- Left Dubrovnik.
- Got a bus to Ploce, discovered coastal Croatia on the way... wow.
- Train to Mostar, crossed the border.
- Met a Brit.
- Got out of train fare.
- Got even better accomodation in Mostar - a whole flat to myself!
- Worked on my Bosnian in the grocery last night.
- Had a chat with my host about the war.
- TURKISH COFFEE.
- Ćevapi! I love Bosnian food.
- Watched a guy jump off of Stari Most (Old Bridge), discovered the Divers' Club.
- Walked through Mostar's Old Town, shopped.
Tomorrow I leave for Sarajevo!
Friday, May 12, 2006
Dubrovnik, days 2-3.
Dubrovnik is definitely a vacationing place. There's a load of famous people like George Bernard Shaw and Evelyn Waugh who call Dubrovnik things like "heaven on earth" and whatnot (I don't really feel like looking those ones up for reference), and I wouldn't disagree.
The past few days have been filled with gelato, pastries, castle forts, and lots and lots of walking. The gelato here puts the one at Dawson Taylor's to shame, but that's to be expected, this close to Italy. I also discovered the deliciousness that is burek, a baked phyllo dough pastry pie thing filled with meat and cheese and onion. Also, "coffee" (kava) is not coffee, but espresso like in Italy, so "kava sa slagom" (coffee with cream) is actually an espresso con panna (shots of espresso with whipped cream), which was a nice surprise this morning.
The castle / old town (Stari Grad) here is amazing. I took two days to explore it, the first to walk through the town, and the second to walk the walls and forts and lookouts surrounding the town. It's amazing to experience something that's been here for hundreds and hundreds of years, and still in operation -- apparently the pharmacy here in Stari Grad is the third oldest operating pharmacy in Europe. And the ground is paved with marble, worn slick by the thousands and thousands of shoes that have walked over it over the centuries.
Also, at least inside Stari Grad, I've heard more French than Croatian; the number of French tourists here is surprising. Every once in a while I'll hear an American accent, but it's mostly French and English and Croatian. Usually none of them think I speak English (or well), so I usually get smiles or hand motions at most. The most attention I get is from Asians, who aren't sure about me, so they ask me first in English if I'm Asian, and then they seem a bit disappointed when I reply that I'm American. That's okay though, I'm not Chinese or Korean and can't speak as much anyway. I've only run into one Japanese so far, and that was the first night. It makes interaction kind of sparse and at times I get lonely.
I'm doing well, though; I've learned to be a little bit more loose with my money in order to enjoy myself, and it's made things better. I decided to stay on a few more nights in Dubrovnik -- the apartment I'm staying in is as big as my bedroom at home and much nicer -- hardwood floors! At 120kn a night (20USD) I can't really complain. Sunday morning I'll hitch a ride to Ploce, a port town, and then catch the train to Mostar, Hercegovina.
I'm moving pretty slowly, but I tend to be a bit inconsistent that way, I'm finding. I'll probably spend a few days in Mostar and then move on up north to Sarajevo. I think I've fixed a new itinerary for myself that will take me to my flight from Zagreb, Croatia, to London on the 6th. Of course it's always subject to change, but here it is:
Dubrovnik, Croatia
Mostar, Bosnia and Hercegovina
Sarajevo, Bosnia and Hercegovina (plus Travnik, Visoko day trips)
Banja Luka, Bosnia and Hercegovina
Osijek, Croatia
Belgrade (Beograd), Serbia and Montenegro
Zagreb, Croatia (side trips to Varazdin and Samobor)
Ljubjiana, Slovenia
Zagreb, Croatia
London, UK
Anyway, thanks everyone for keeping up with me. It's been a bit of an adjustment, but I'm starting to get the hang of it and get more confidence.
I think it's about time to try some more food. Until next time.
The past few days have been filled with gelato, pastries, castle forts, and lots and lots of walking. The gelato here puts the one at Dawson Taylor's to shame, but that's to be expected, this close to Italy. I also discovered the deliciousness that is burek, a baked phyllo dough pastry pie thing filled with meat and cheese and onion. Also, "coffee" (kava) is not coffee, but espresso like in Italy, so "kava sa slagom" (coffee with cream) is actually an espresso con panna (shots of espresso with whipped cream), which was a nice surprise this morning.
The castle / old town (Stari Grad) here is amazing. I took two days to explore it, the first to walk through the town, and the second to walk the walls and forts and lookouts surrounding the town. It's amazing to experience something that's been here for hundreds and hundreds of years, and still in operation -- apparently the pharmacy here in Stari Grad is the third oldest operating pharmacy in Europe. And the ground is paved with marble, worn slick by the thousands and thousands of shoes that have walked over it over the centuries.
Also, at least inside Stari Grad, I've heard more French than Croatian; the number of French tourists here is surprising. Every once in a while I'll hear an American accent, but it's mostly French and English and Croatian. Usually none of them think I speak English (or well), so I usually get smiles or hand motions at most. The most attention I get is from Asians, who aren't sure about me, so they ask me first in English if I'm Asian, and then they seem a bit disappointed when I reply that I'm American. That's okay though, I'm not Chinese or Korean and can't speak as much anyway. I've only run into one Japanese so far, and that was the first night. It makes interaction kind of sparse and at times I get lonely.
I'm doing well, though; I've learned to be a little bit more loose with my money in order to enjoy myself, and it's made things better. I decided to stay on a few more nights in Dubrovnik -- the apartment I'm staying in is as big as my bedroom at home and much nicer -- hardwood floors! At 120kn a night (20USD) I can't really complain. Sunday morning I'll hitch a ride to Ploce, a port town, and then catch the train to Mostar, Hercegovina.
I'm moving pretty slowly, but I tend to be a bit inconsistent that way, I'm finding. I'll probably spend a few days in Mostar and then move on up north to Sarajevo. I think I've fixed a new itinerary for myself that will take me to my flight from Zagreb, Croatia, to London on the 6th. Of course it's always subject to change, but here it is:
Dubrovnik, Croatia
Mostar, Bosnia and Hercegovina
Sarajevo, Bosnia and Hercegovina (plus Travnik, Visoko day trips)
Banja Luka, Bosnia and Hercegovina
Osijek, Croatia
Belgrade (Beograd), Serbia and Montenegro
Zagreb, Croatia (side trips to Varazdin and Samobor)
Ljubjiana, Slovenia
Zagreb, Croatia
London, UK
Anyway, thanks everyone for keeping up with me. It's been a bit of an adjustment, but I'm starting to get the hang of it and get more confidence.
I think it's about time to try some more food. Until next time.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Dubrovnik, days 0-1.
I am here! I am enjoying the lovely internet services at the Dubrovnik Internet Centar, which lets me abuse the internet for just 5kn (less than 1USD) an hour. So much better than 50p for 7 minutes.
Dubrovnik is gorgeous. So much has happened in the last 24 hours I'm not sure where to begin.
My flight over contained exactly 3 people under 30, maybe two most between 30 and 45, and the rest well over 60 and all holding UK passports. They were all dressed in resort-wear. We ran out of white wine on the flight, which was kinda funny, too.
I arrived to an empty airport and promptly said no to several taxi drivers and one guy offering accomodation. My ATM card worked without a hitch (even less nuisance than in UK!), after which I hopped onto the Croatia Air shuttle to the main bus station. I had the entire charter bus to myself to gawk at the scenery.
It was already dark when I arrived, but flying in you could still see the white islands with green forest tops standing out like odd-shaped pastries in the water. We drove up into the cliffs overlooking the city and WOW. Not only is there a castle, but it's large enough with a surrounding city that I could only resort to expletives when describing it. My mouth was open the whole time.
We curved around the cliffs and descended into the area we had just overlooked, passing the waters of the Adriatic. Hello Carnival Cruiselines, hello water. Driving over I couldn't help but think that every time I've seen enough cool things, I run into something like this, where I can't really say anything but wow, man is really freakin' cool. This whole city is so beautiful, built on the sea... It would be stupid to try and describe it any more at this point. I apologize for the lack of photos; I'll have to find an internet café with USB access or just wait until I get back.
So, I got to the bus station and refused a few more rides and a few more accomodations offerings. The hostel I had arranged to stay at had a shuttle service from the bus station, and had instructed me to call once I reached the station. It took me a while and a friendly Croatian student to figure out how to use the phones (buy card, insert right side up, dial with 0), only to find out the mobile had been turned off. Great.
A woman offering private accomodation approached me and I politely repeated I had a place; I showed her where on a big map and the instructions I had been given. She urged me to call again and took me to the phone inside the bus station. I called again and showed her the phone was not being answered. She didn't seem to understand, and it was then that a group of three other private accomodations owners stepped in.
I was a bit intimidated, but I explained what had happened. Two had cell phones and passed the phone number around, calling at different times to verify the phone was off. We discussed my options while they each went on a tirade about how wrong it was for him to leave me at the station.
My next thought, of course, was to take a taxi to the hostel, but I was reminded that the service I had booked with ran several locations, and since the office was closed, there was no way to know which one to go to. I eventually arranged to stay with one of the other owners, the one who had been first to call my original accomodations.
I'm not sure if the three had expected me to be more upset, or what, but they continued on their tirades, making me feel a lot better about the situation, even though I was still a bit disengaged, being in a new place and all. After about a half hour, one of the guys got through (they were still calling intermittently). He began speaking very excitedly in Croatian, became very upset, and then hung up on the guy. My three new friends began speaking in Croatian, seeming in disbelief, now yelling. They let me in on the results; when asked if he was going to pick me up, he replied, "It's not my problem."
I ended up getting accomodations after all, although I was a bit nervous about doing something so "on the fly", but I suppose that's what I came for. We gave a ride to someone else at the station on the way to the apartment; he was Japanese from Japan and we actually had a pretty intense talk about travel and being Japanese. I'll save that for another time.
I made it to Apartmani Burum, which is miles above the standards of your average UK hostel. The woman who runs it was very sweet to me, and was also very upset for me. I can imagine it's much like me going on a tirade about bad customer service or bad coffee -- it's upsetting to see people in the same industry giving it a bad name.
So, I'm here in one piece, and enjoying myself again. After some Ghana-like rain this morning (sun in Manchester, rain in Dubrovnik!), I set out again and found this place, which is definitely a comfort. My priorities today were (1) to check my bank account to make sure the original hostel didn't charge my account, and (2) to get in touch with my folks and peeps back home, to let them know I got here safe.
I was so bound and determined after last night that I forgot I should go and see some Dubrovnik as well!
I thought to myself, after all that happened, I'm having my adventures after all!
Dubrovnik is gorgeous. So much has happened in the last 24 hours I'm not sure where to begin.
My flight over contained exactly 3 people under 30, maybe two most between 30 and 45, and the rest well over 60 and all holding UK passports. They were all dressed in resort-wear. We ran out of white wine on the flight, which was kinda funny, too.
I arrived to an empty airport and promptly said no to several taxi drivers and one guy offering accomodation. My ATM card worked without a hitch (even less nuisance than in UK!), after which I hopped onto the Croatia Air shuttle to the main bus station. I had the entire charter bus to myself to gawk at the scenery.
It was already dark when I arrived, but flying in you could still see the white islands with green forest tops standing out like odd-shaped pastries in the water. We drove up into the cliffs overlooking the city and WOW. Not only is there a castle, but it's large enough with a surrounding city that I could only resort to expletives when describing it. My mouth was open the whole time.
We curved around the cliffs and descended into the area we had just overlooked, passing the waters of the Adriatic. Hello Carnival Cruiselines, hello water. Driving over I couldn't help but think that every time I've seen enough cool things, I run into something like this, where I can't really say anything but wow, man is really freakin' cool. This whole city is so beautiful, built on the sea... It would be stupid to try and describe it any more at this point. I apologize for the lack of photos; I'll have to find an internet café with USB access or just wait until I get back.
So, I got to the bus station and refused a few more rides and a few more accomodations offerings. The hostel I had arranged to stay at had a shuttle service from the bus station, and had instructed me to call once I reached the station. It took me a while and a friendly Croatian student to figure out how to use the phones (buy card, insert right side up, dial with 0), only to find out the mobile had been turned off. Great.
A woman offering private accomodation approached me and I politely repeated I had a place; I showed her where on a big map and the instructions I had been given. She urged me to call again and took me to the phone inside the bus station. I called again and showed her the phone was not being answered. She didn't seem to understand, and it was then that a group of three other private accomodations owners stepped in.
I was a bit intimidated, but I explained what had happened. Two had cell phones and passed the phone number around, calling at different times to verify the phone was off. We discussed my options while they each went on a tirade about how wrong it was for him to leave me at the station.
My next thought, of course, was to take a taxi to the hostel, but I was reminded that the service I had booked with ran several locations, and since the office was closed, there was no way to know which one to go to. I eventually arranged to stay with one of the other owners, the one who had been first to call my original accomodations.
I'm not sure if the three had expected me to be more upset, or what, but they continued on their tirades, making me feel a lot better about the situation, even though I was still a bit disengaged, being in a new place and all. After about a half hour, one of the guys got through (they were still calling intermittently). He began speaking very excitedly in Croatian, became very upset, and then hung up on the guy. My three new friends began speaking in Croatian, seeming in disbelief, now yelling. They let me in on the results; when asked if he was going to pick me up, he replied, "It's not my problem."
I ended up getting accomodations after all, although I was a bit nervous about doing something so "on the fly", but I suppose that's what I came for. We gave a ride to someone else at the station on the way to the apartment; he was Japanese from Japan and we actually had a pretty intense talk about travel and being Japanese. I'll save that for another time.
I made it to Apartmani Burum, which is miles above the standards of your average UK hostel. The woman who runs it was very sweet to me, and was also very upset for me. I can imagine it's much like me going on a tirade about bad customer service or bad coffee -- it's upsetting to see people in the same industry giving it a bad name.
So, I'm here in one piece, and enjoying myself again. After some Ghana-like rain this morning (sun in Manchester, rain in Dubrovnik!), I set out again and found this place, which is definitely a comfort. My priorities today were (1) to check my bank account to make sure the original hostel didn't charge my account, and (2) to get in touch with my folks and peeps back home, to let them know I got here safe.
I was so bound and determined after last night that I forgot I should go and see some Dubrovnik as well!
I thought to myself, after all that happened, I'm having my adventures after all!
Monday, May 08, 2006
Loughrigg Fell, and so did Dot.
After buying new shoes and setting free the old ones, I again set out for Ambleside, this time for a serious hike. I've got a guidebook called "50 Walks in the Lake District", and had earlier chosen a few to try out.
I started out as directed, somewhere near St. Mary's Cathedral, walking past an elementary school and then a nice park (Rothkay?). On the other side of the park was a bridge and trails leading upward to Loughrigg Fell, the major hill (mountain?) overlooking this end of the lake.
Passing farms and lots of sheep, I took photos here and there as the climb steepened. I had to stop a few times to check my directions, and then proceeded up a few precarious stone steps jutting out of the hillside wall.
It was somewhere after this I got lost. I thought I had read to follow the path to the left in order to make it to the top. I went back later and read the directions, and it was very vague about how to get there, saying only that there were multiple paths, and that if you bear diagonally left, this is the best way to get where you're going.
I ended up following a large stone wall up and down the side of the hill. At some point it became very boggy, and while jumping through some mush and generally avoiding wetness, I slipped and my knee went *squish* into the hillside. After that I decided I didn't like mud anymore, nor this path, and decided to take matters into my own hands.
This is the part of the show where they blank out the screen and say, We do not in any way condone the following behaviours, as they are blah blah blah and this and that.
I stood alone there on the mountain, faced with an important decision.
Being from Idaho, there's always the warnings about leaving the pathway, and respecting nature and yadda yadda slippage or whatever it is with the terrain that makes it fall into rivers. It's important. But so are my ego and my shoes and my pants that aren't to get muddy the first day I bought the shoes and the first day of new clothes after laundry. Plus, I'm a foreigner and this is England and never once did I hear about leaving pathways.
There are no really big scary animals (or really small scary animals, for that matter) that I know of in England, no scary bugs, and definitely no land mines. And the worst I could do is upset some local whose territory I'm abusing (to which I would attempt my very best ignorant Chinese tourist impression).
I stuck it out for a few more meters of mud-dancing, and then decided to take my shoes and my business at a perpendicular angle right to the path, and straight up the hill.
It was a rough journey, and at best I got some glares from otherwise nonchalant sheep, basking in the sun. It took me a bit, but I finally made it to the top over a field of dry brush and weeds. I didn't feel quite so bad when I saw an empty Fox's Glacier Mint wrapper along the way. I spied a rock wall and made my way towards it, fearing the wrath of a group of hikers, pissed I had gone the incorrect way.
I got to the top and... wow. Hello Ambleside. And lake. And hostel. (The hostel is about a mile from the town.) And no one was at the top to greet me with angry dogs or broken bottles. Not a soul. I felt a little more at ease once I had hopped onto a worn path; I jumped onto it gladly and looked around, hoping someone would look and know I was legit.
I have no idea how to describe the feeling I got looking over this place I'd come to, from the top of a mountain. The wind had picked up and at the very top there was nothing to hinder it; it was strong enough that I could hardly stand up. I took dozens of pictures and a few videos of the landscape. This was a cool thing.
I traveled over an ocean and on buses and planes and trains to get here, and now I've muscled my way up a mountain, just because I knew I could.
Pretty cool stuff.
I started out as directed, somewhere near St. Mary's Cathedral, walking past an elementary school and then a nice park (Rothkay?). On the other side of the park was a bridge and trails leading upward to Loughrigg Fell, the major hill (mountain?) overlooking this end of the lake.
Passing farms and lots of sheep, I took photos here and there as the climb steepened. I had to stop a few times to check my directions, and then proceeded up a few precarious stone steps jutting out of the hillside wall.
It was somewhere after this I got lost. I thought I had read to follow the path to the left in order to make it to the top. I went back later and read the directions, and it was very vague about how to get there, saying only that there were multiple paths, and that if you bear diagonally left, this is the best way to get where you're going.
I ended up following a large stone wall up and down the side of the hill. At some point it became very boggy, and while jumping through some mush and generally avoiding wetness, I slipped and my knee went *squish* into the hillside. After that I decided I didn't like mud anymore, nor this path, and decided to take matters into my own hands.
This is the part of the show where they blank out the screen and say, We do not in any way condone the following behaviours, as they are blah blah blah and this and that.
I stood alone there on the mountain, faced with an important decision.
Being from Idaho, there's always the warnings about leaving the pathway, and respecting nature and yadda yadda slippage or whatever it is with the terrain that makes it fall into rivers. It's important. But so are my ego and my shoes and my pants that aren't to get muddy the first day I bought the shoes and the first day of new clothes after laundry. Plus, I'm a foreigner and this is England and never once did I hear about leaving pathways.
There are no really big scary animals (or really small scary animals, for that matter) that I know of in England, no scary bugs, and definitely no land mines. And the worst I could do is upset some local whose territory I'm abusing (to which I would attempt my very best ignorant Chinese tourist impression).
I stuck it out for a few more meters of mud-dancing, and then decided to take my shoes and my business at a perpendicular angle right to the path, and straight up the hill.
It was a rough journey, and at best I got some glares from otherwise nonchalant sheep, basking in the sun. It took me a bit, but I finally made it to the top over a field of dry brush and weeds. I didn't feel quite so bad when I saw an empty Fox's Glacier Mint wrapper along the way. I spied a rock wall and made my way towards it, fearing the wrath of a group of hikers, pissed I had gone the incorrect way.
I got to the top and... wow. Hello Ambleside. And lake. And hostel. (The hostel is about a mile from the town.) And no one was at the top to greet me with angry dogs or broken bottles. Not a soul. I felt a little more at ease once I had hopped onto a worn path; I jumped onto it gladly and looked around, hoping someone would look and know I was legit.
I have no idea how to describe the feeling I got looking over this place I'd come to, from the top of a mountain. The wind had picked up and at the very top there was nothing to hinder it; it was strong enough that I could hardly stand up. I took dozens of pictures and a few videos of the landscape. This was a cool thing.
I traveled over an ocean and on buses and planes and trains to get here, and now I've muscled my way up a mountain, just because I knew I could.
Pretty cool stuff.
Quickerest post ever.
2 minutes...
No one showed up in my room yesterday at all, so I had a 6-person room to myself, choice of bunks, lockers, etc. A little lonely, but altogether fabulous.
Bought new shoes and met a guy from Poland in the process. He's been in England for years but is from Krakow. Seemed pretty excited I was traveling to Croatia (he's heard all the same stories that it's beautiful - I'll be there tomorrow to verify!) and was extremely helpful with my odd-shaped feet. Discovered UK sizes suck!
No one showed up in my room yesterday at all, so I had a 6-person room to myself, choice of bunks, lockers, etc. A little lonely, but altogether fabulous.
Bought new shoes and met a guy from Poland in the process. He's been in England for years but is from Krakow. Seemed pretty excited I was traveling to Croatia (he's heard all the same stories that it's beautiful - I'll be there tomorrow to verify!) and was extremely helpful with my odd-shaped feet. Discovered UK sizes suck!
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Ambleside, day one.
After I got settled in my room (no assigned beds means I get the top bunk near the window!), I took a walk out and around the hostel, and immediately found ice cream. I already forget what the name of the place was, other than it was just around the corner from the hostel. I couldn't resist "Death by Chocolate", in a single scoop.
My cone and I took a stroll around the lake (my hostel is literally a hop, skip and a jump from the lake - proven), the home of many a boat, ferry, and fussy swan. Unlike other places, they actually give out bread crumbs for you to feed the ducks and swans, so these birds are spoiled. Due to a light rain, I had paused under a tree to finish my cone, and a big bull swan lumbered over, eyeing my treat. He stood by the edge of the dock bobbing his head up and down, and huffing when I turned my head sideways at him, as if to say, "Did you want something?" An older couple dropped by with three (!) bags of bread crumbs, to which the rest of the flock uh... flocked towards. But the bull swan was undistracted, keeping his eye on the prize. I hurriedly finished the rest of my cone, as if to say "ha!" Soon after a family was drawn to him, taking photos. Apparently the couple's small child was enough to keep the swan's interest, and I slipped away quietly, continuing on down the path into Ambleside.
Aside from hungry swans and even hungrier tourists, I found the town of Ambleside to be quite lovely. It reminds me of Sun Valley or Hailey in that it's catered a lot to the tourist and outdoorsy population. Literally every other store is an outdoors or sporting goods or travel gear store. I admittedly got sucked in for a while and looked at lightweight travel clothes and comfort wear shoes, dodging through crowds of fellow spenders and outdoors enthusiasts. The other half of shops in this town contain sweets, specialty foods (cheese!), and local books.
The rest of town is either restaurants (mostly cafes or local food) or B&Bs, although there is one Indian food and one Chinese food restaurant. And I still see more Asians around here than I ever did in the B-town, although the tourist crowd tends to be pretty diverse.
After scoping out the town and taking note of the trailheads I'll be starting at tomorrow, I came back to Scott's Cafe for an early dinner, consisting of a brie and cranberry melt on baguette bread, with fried crisps (American chips, not fries), coleslaw and fresh vegetables. As most of you know, vegetarian fare isn't my thing, but I actually enjoyed this meal quite a bit.
My feet still hurt from these shoes (I think the right shoe is too loose), so I may splurge on a new pair of shoes for the rest of the trip. 55 quid isn't that bad, I suppose. I was also eyeing one of those lighter jackets (my raincoat is mammoth), although despite being willing to part with these obnoxious shoes, the raincoat is harder for me to say goodbye to.
I have enough time to take another walk; however, I think I'll stay in and deflate for a while, take in the view, and do a little reading. I haven't really thought much about the fact that I'll be surrounded by a completely new language in a few days; I think I've finally become comfortable settling into the "here and now". Every moment's become an exquisite little memory I may have already forgotten, aside from the delight it's given me for the brief tick of time it existed. I'm okay with that.
My cone and I took a stroll around the lake (my hostel is literally a hop, skip and a jump from the lake - proven), the home of many a boat, ferry, and fussy swan. Unlike other places, they actually give out bread crumbs for you to feed the ducks and swans, so these birds are spoiled. Due to a light rain, I had paused under a tree to finish my cone, and a big bull swan lumbered over, eyeing my treat. He stood by the edge of the dock bobbing his head up and down, and huffing when I turned my head sideways at him, as if to say, "Did you want something?" An older couple dropped by with three (!) bags of bread crumbs, to which the rest of the flock uh... flocked towards. But the bull swan was undistracted, keeping his eye on the prize. I hurriedly finished the rest of my cone, as if to say "ha!" Soon after a family was drawn to him, taking photos. Apparently the couple's small child was enough to keep the swan's interest, and I slipped away quietly, continuing on down the path into Ambleside.
Aside from hungry swans and even hungrier tourists, I found the town of Ambleside to be quite lovely. It reminds me of Sun Valley or Hailey in that it's catered a lot to the tourist and outdoorsy population. Literally every other store is an outdoors or sporting goods or travel gear store. I admittedly got sucked in for a while and looked at lightweight travel clothes and comfort wear shoes, dodging through crowds of fellow spenders and outdoors enthusiasts. The other half of shops in this town contain sweets, specialty foods (cheese!), and local books.
The rest of town is either restaurants (mostly cafes or local food) or B&Bs, although there is one Indian food and one Chinese food restaurant. And I still see more Asians around here than I ever did in the B-town, although the tourist crowd tends to be pretty diverse.
After scoping out the town and taking note of the trailheads I'll be starting at tomorrow, I came back to Scott's Cafe for an early dinner, consisting of a brie and cranberry melt on baguette bread, with fried crisps (American chips, not fries), coleslaw and fresh vegetables. As most of you know, vegetarian fare isn't my thing, but I actually enjoyed this meal quite a bit.
My feet still hurt from these shoes (I think the right shoe is too loose), so I may splurge on a new pair of shoes for the rest of the trip. 55 quid isn't that bad, I suppose. I was also eyeing one of those lighter jackets (my raincoat is mammoth), although despite being willing to part with these obnoxious shoes, the raincoat is harder for me to say goodbye to.
I have enough time to take another walk; however, I think I'll stay in and deflate for a while, take in the view, and do a little reading. I haven't really thought much about the fact that I'll be surrounded by a completely new language in a few days; I think I've finally become comfortable settling into the "here and now". Every moment's become an exquisite little memory I may have already forgotten, aside from the delight it's given me for the brief tick of time it existed. I'm okay with that.
Arrival at Windermere.
I said farewell to my dad this morning; we got dropped off rather abruptly at the airport, at different terminals. Honestly I still don't think it's hit me yet that I won't see anyone I know for another four and a half weeks, and that person will be Cap. At the risk of seeming self-centered, I'm just ready to get out and see the world.
So I've made it to Windermere, or Ambleside, more specifically. The train ride over was quite relaxing; I still can't get over how metropolitan Manchester is for its size -- there was a Russian- (or Slavic-) speaking gentleman talking away on his cell phone behind me, two French women in front of me, and two Chinese girls in the seats to my left.
The ride over was filled with lots of sheep(!) and idyllic scenes of overcast English countryside. The lake is beautiful -- the greenness and small-town feel here remind me of McCall; the people visiting here are all very outdoorsy or resort-types. I can't wait to get to my room, lock up my pack, and get out exploring.
So I've made it to Windermere, or Ambleside, more specifically. The train ride over was quite relaxing; I still can't get over how metropolitan Manchester is for its size -- there was a Russian- (or Slavic-) speaking gentleman talking away on his cell phone behind me, two French women in front of me, and two Chinese girls in the seats to my left.
The ride over was filled with lots of sheep(!) and idyllic scenes of overcast English countryside. The lake is beautiful -- the greenness and small-town feel here remind me of McCall; the people visiting here are all very outdoorsy or resort-types. I can't wait to get to my room, lock up my pack, and get out exploring.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Setting out alone.
Tomorrow my dad and I will part ways; he'll board a plane for London and eventually Boise, and I'll board a train for Windermere. And thus will begin my solo journey.
Traveling has been fun thus far. We've unraveled the basics of public transportation for two major cities. We've seen the sights and walked back (and forth) across Manchester together.
I was just asking my dad and apparently we have no idea what we did together in London. The best I remember is that we worked out the tube stops and got out at Gloucester... Okay, we finally remembered -- we walked down Portobello Market and had bangers and mash at S&M Cafe. Apparently so much has happened we don't even remember what we did just a few days ago. Wonderful.
Since then, there have been beans and toast, eggs and toast, more bangers, mushy peas, and more mash. And fish and chips. Here in Manchester we had our fill of red-striped architecture and extravagant shopping mall.
It's been a busy week! At least I've got photos to prove it, although most of it seems blurry from here. As much as I'd love to digest all that I've seen (and eaten), I still have another month to look forward to. Hopefully once I hit the Balkans, I'll slow down a bit.
Anyway, a few lessons I've learned already.
1. Water is important! And just because it's from London, doesn't mean my stomach likes it! This, from the girl who drank tap water in West Africa!
2. Chinese are everywhere! And I'm still Chinese whereever I go.
3. The size of my bag keeps getting smaller and smaller, meaning I'm either getting better at packing, or I'm losing stuff and not realizing it.
4. Even though I'm a backpacker doesn't mean I'm necessarily the smelliest one!
5. Trying to download songs onto your iPod shuffle from someone else's laptop only results in no songs at all.
6. Public transportation in most cities takes a bit to figure out, but quite easy once you familiarize yourself with a few across-the-board standards, like one-day passes, return tickets, etc. And the train isn't always the more expensive option.
7. It's okay to have a day or two of down-time. Not everything or everyday has to be SO exciting. It's okay to just crave a cup of hot chocolate, or American TV (which is everywhere). (By the way, British TV is the best -- all of the good shows (Lost!), and none of the crappy news/media.)
8. Cockroaches do exist in London.
Okay, I think I've exhausted my travel lessons for tonight. Tomorrow I'll be in Ambleside, in Lake District National Park. Even though I've got laundry to do, I have a feeling I'll find my way to a computer soon enough. I'm not sure about photos, though; the intertron machines I've seen lately don't support USB-ness, so this may be the last for a while, at least until the Balkans.
Honestly I haven't really thought much about being alone for the next month. I think it'll be okay; I'm actually looking forward to it quite a bit. I'm willing to swallow my words if I later decide otherwise, though.
So, this is farewell and cheers! from Manchester. Ay-kay?
Traveling has been fun thus far. We've unraveled the basics of public transportation for two major cities. We've seen the sights and walked back (and forth) across Manchester together.
I was just asking my dad and apparently we have no idea what we did together in London. The best I remember is that we worked out the tube stops and got out at Gloucester... Okay, we finally remembered -- we walked down Portobello Market and had bangers and mash at S&M Cafe. Apparently so much has happened we don't even remember what we did just a few days ago. Wonderful.
Since then, there have been beans and toast, eggs and toast, more bangers, mushy peas, and more mash. And fish and chips. Here in Manchester we had our fill of red-striped architecture and extravagant shopping mall.
It's been a busy week! At least I've got photos to prove it, although most of it seems blurry from here. As much as I'd love to digest all that I've seen (and eaten), I still have another month to look forward to. Hopefully once I hit the Balkans, I'll slow down a bit.
Anyway, a few lessons I've learned already.
1. Water is important! And just because it's from London, doesn't mean my stomach likes it! This, from the girl who drank tap water in West Africa!
2. Chinese are everywhere! And I'm still Chinese whereever I go.
3. The size of my bag keeps getting smaller and smaller, meaning I'm either getting better at packing, or I'm losing stuff and not realizing it.
4. Even though I'm a backpacker doesn't mean I'm necessarily the smelliest one!
5. Trying to download songs onto your iPod shuffle from someone else's laptop only results in no songs at all.
6. Public transportation in most cities takes a bit to figure out, but quite easy once you familiarize yourself with a few across-the-board standards, like one-day passes, return tickets, etc. And the train isn't always the more expensive option.
7. It's okay to have a day or two of down-time. Not everything or everyday has to be SO exciting. It's okay to just crave a cup of hot chocolate, or American TV (which is everywhere). (By the way, British TV is the best -- all of the good shows (Lost!), and none of the crappy news/media.)
8. Cockroaches do exist in London.
Okay, I think I've exhausted my travel lessons for tonight. Tomorrow I'll be in Ambleside, in Lake District National Park. Even though I've got laundry to do, I have a feeling I'll find my way to a computer soon enough. I'm not sure about photos, though; the intertron machines I've seen lately don't support USB-ness, so this may be the last for a while, at least until the Balkans.
Honestly I haven't really thought much about being alone for the next month. I think it'll be okay; I'm actually looking forward to it quite a bit. I'm willing to swallow my words if I later decide otherwise, though.
So, this is farewell and cheers! from Manchester. Ay-kay?
Manchester, day three.
We decided to take a chill day for our last day in Manchester, and went back to the Trafford Centre for a movie and ramen (part two, the return!). I know this has not much in particular to do with travels, but I had to pass on this ad we saw before the movie for Honda Civic 8. It's more impressive on the big screen, but I thought it was pretty neat anyway.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Manchester, day two.
I think we discovered that most everything in Manchester involves red stripes, including buildings and construction tape. Case in point:
It makes for some neat architectural effects.
Manchester's probably only a mile wide; we took a train into Manchester Piccadilly and walked almost the entire town today. The weather was a bit windy, but absolutely gorgeous. The sun was out and at times it was, dare I say it, hot.
I think we saw just about everything Manchester has to offer. Think I'm kidding? Here's a list.
Chinatown, Chinese Arch
Albert Square
Town Hall
Central Library
Manchester Art Gallery
John Rylands Library (under renovation)
Piccadilly Gardens
People's History Museum
Great Northern Square (or Great Northern Abyss, with theatre)
University of Manchester campus
We also stopped into several tea and coffee shops, a Mark's and Spencer's (the grocery one), and a sporting goods store. And apparently there are no pubs in Manchester (as opposed to London) that serve meals, so I'll have to wait until London, part deux to get the bona fide fish and chips and cask-conditioned ale experience.
And of course, there are more pics on my flickr site, for your viewing pleasure.
It makes for some neat architectural effects.
Manchester's probably only a mile wide; we took a train into Manchester Piccadilly and walked almost the entire town today. The weather was a bit windy, but absolutely gorgeous. The sun was out and at times it was, dare I say it, hot.
I think we saw just about everything Manchester has to offer. Think I'm kidding? Here's a list.
Chinatown, Chinese Arch
Albert Square
Town Hall
Central Library
Manchester Art Gallery
John Rylands Library (under renovation)
Piccadilly Gardens
People's History Museum
Great Northern Square (or Great Northern Abyss, with theatre)
University of Manchester campus
We also stopped into several tea and coffee shops, a Mark's and Spencer's (the grocery one), and a sporting goods store. And apparently there are no pubs in Manchester (as opposed to London) that serve meals, so I'll have to wait until London, part deux to get the bona fide fish and chips and cask-conditioned ale experience.
And of course, there are more pics on my flickr site, for your viewing pleasure.
Manchester, day one.
I made it to Manchester in one piece; Dad was sitting in the lobby already when I arrived, his day having ended a bit earlier than expected.
I must say that, though the Airport Marriott is quite far from the city, this is by far the most beautiful hotel I've stayed at since like, Hawaii when I was 11. The place is a bit of a labyrinth to get through, but only because there are so many different levels and terracing to the architecture. In the center is a lovely garden and series of pathways nice enough, I mentioned to my dad, to get married in. Honestly, this makes the last place look kind of... dingy.
Briefly, the afternoon was spent in Trafford Center, this enormous shopping mall where among other things, we found the Tampopo Noodle House. Ramen!!
We're going to breakfast shortly; I've posted new pictures from St. Paul's and also from Trafford Centre on my flickr site. Enjoy! Meanwhile, Ima go have some beans on toast.
I must say that, though the Airport Marriott is quite far from the city, this is by far the most beautiful hotel I've stayed at since like, Hawaii when I was 11. The place is a bit of a labyrinth to get through, but only because there are so many different levels and terracing to the architecture. In the center is a lovely garden and series of pathways nice enough, I mentioned to my dad, to get married in. Honestly, this makes the last place look kind of... dingy.
Briefly, the afternoon was spent in Trafford Center, this enormous shopping mall where among other things, we found the Tampopo Noodle House. Ramen!!
We're going to breakfast shortly; I've posted new pictures from St. Paul's and also from Trafford Centre on my flickr site. Enjoy! Meanwhile, Ima go have some beans on toast.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
17 minutes... quickest post ever.
This'll be short; I have 17 minutes (at 10p a piece!) to blog something quick from the airport intertron vending machine.
I decided that, despite where I end up going in the Balkans, I'd like to experience a few simple things, just as I would any new town or city I'm visiting:
1. public transportation.
2. a bar or cafe, or local restaurant.
3. people-watching during a mid-city workday bustle.
4. uh,... i forget for now, but I'd rather not get my journal, wasting precious minutes to find out.
My experience in London was fun; the hostel was about par for what I expected. My roommates were from all over -- Iceland, Korea, and the states. People weren't as talkative or communal as I thought they'd be (you always hear about the backpacking contingency, so I would've thought that they'd be a bit more gregarious). Plus, the ads always make it sound like it's a big party at hostel. Then again, I only stayed for one night, whereas most of them stayed at least three or four, and got to know their roomies and hostelers better.
Oh yeah, the dude last night -- I didn't mean to scare y'all. It was just some drunk guy talking to me in the window. I couldn't understand his slurred British English, and when I stopped responding to him, he just stood at the window and stared at me. After a while he moved to another window right next to me and started gabbing again, at which point I went to find the night desk guy.
He was in the kitchen, so it took a while, and by the time I got back to my beloved internets, he was gone. The desk dude thought it might've been someone from the hostel, asking me to open the door (you have to buzz to get in) which made me laugh. Anyway, I was in no real danger, just a little disturbed if anything.
In a few minutes, it'll be goodbye London, hello Dad and Manchester. 6 minutes to go!
I decided that, despite where I end up going in the Balkans, I'd like to experience a few simple things, just as I would any new town or city I'm visiting:
1. public transportation.
2. a bar or cafe, or local restaurant.
3. people-watching during a mid-city workday bustle.
4. uh,... i forget for now, but I'd rather not get my journal, wasting precious minutes to find out.
My experience in London was fun; the hostel was about par for what I expected. My roommates were from all over -- Iceland, Korea, and the states. People weren't as talkative or communal as I thought they'd be (you always hear about the backpacking contingency, so I would've thought that they'd be a bit more gregarious). Plus, the ads always make it sound like it's a big party at hostel. Then again, I only stayed for one night, whereas most of them stayed at least three or four, and got to know their roomies and hostelers better.
Oh yeah, the dude last night -- I didn't mean to scare y'all. It was just some drunk guy talking to me in the window. I couldn't understand his slurred British English, and when I stopped responding to him, he just stood at the window and stared at me. After a while he moved to another window right next to me and started gabbing again, at which point I went to find the night desk guy.
He was in the kitchen, so it took a while, and by the time I got back to my beloved internets, he was gone. The desk dude thought it might've been someone from the hostel, asking me to open the door (you have to buzz to get in) which made me laugh. Anyway, I was in no real danger, just a little disturbed if anything.
In a few minutes, it'll be goodbye London, hello Dad and Manchester. 6 minutes to go!
Quirks of accomodations...
Living in a hostel downtown in the financial district, playing on the internet in front of an open window which is thankfully set above ground level, I get to experience the occasional drunk looking in the window and having terribly incoherent conversations with me.
Which he's in fact doing right now, so I must go.
Which he's in fact doing right now, so I must go.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Settling in...
Admittedly I was a little anxious when I got here; in fact I spent most of yesterday in bed, partially just to sleep and get over myself, and partially because (of all places!) I think the water here is not sitting well with me.
Anyway, I set out today with a couple of bottles of water and beans and toast in my stomach, much better rested. I hopped on the bus and then the Tube with gusto, and made my way to YHA St. Paul's, my home for the evening.
After dropping off my bag, I wandered over to the cathedral for some sightseeing and people-watching. The sun actually popped out for a bit, and I settled into a peaceful demeanor, analyzing the architecture and sculpture for the best camera angles, watching the hustle and bustle of the red double-decker busses, and ubiquitous black taxi cabs.
They're doing construction nearby and also at the cathedral, and the echoes of jackhammers off the aged buildings lend an extra industrial "city" feel to the place. I found a place in between buildings to people-watch, and observed runners, young well-dressed males in pink shirts and suits, and a multitude of foreigners like me out to see the sights.
I've got pictures, but the computer here at the YHA doesn't have USB port access, so those'll have to come later.
I've calmed down a bit and decided to enjoy London while I'm here. Honestly I've been looking forward to the Balkans so much that I hadn't stopped to take in England until now. Tomorrow I'm flying to Manchester to meet up with my dad. We'll spend the weekend together, and then we'll part ways; after that, I'll truly be on a solo adventure.
Anyway, I set out today with a couple of bottles of water and beans and toast in my stomach, much better rested. I hopped on the bus and then the Tube with gusto, and made my way to YHA St. Paul's, my home for the evening.
After dropping off my bag, I wandered over to the cathedral for some sightseeing and people-watching. The sun actually popped out for a bit, and I settled into a peaceful demeanor, analyzing the architecture and sculpture for the best camera angles, watching the hustle and bustle of the red double-decker busses, and ubiquitous black taxi cabs.
They're doing construction nearby and also at the cathedral, and the echoes of jackhammers off the aged buildings lend an extra industrial "city" feel to the place. I found a place in between buildings to people-watch, and observed runners, young well-dressed males in pink shirts and suits, and a multitude of foreigners like me out to see the sights.
I've got pictures, but the computer here at the YHA doesn't have USB port access, so those'll have to come later.
I've calmed down a bit and decided to enjoy London while I'm here. Honestly I've been looking forward to the Balkans so much that I hadn't stopped to take in England until now. Tomorrow I'm flying to Manchester to meet up with my dad. We'll spend the weekend together, and then we'll part ways; after that, I'll truly be on a solo adventure.
Monday, May 01, 2006
A little bit of S&M...
Dad and I decided to be adventurous today and, instead of paying 45 quid for a taxi ride, took public transportation. Of course this is one of my favorite things to do in any new place, so I thought I'd share the adventure with my dad.
After a long journey by bus and Tube, Heathrow to Notting Hill, several wide circles and a long walk down Portabello Road, we finally made it to Cockney's Mash and Pie, only to find that it was closed Sundays and Mondays. Determined to remain undefeated in our quest for pie, we walked back up Portabello a bit and happened upon a quirky-named cafe.
Behold, the S&M Cafe, where S&M stands for "Sausage and Mash". Bingo.
Dad got the steak and ale pie with mushy peas, while I chose the traditional London mix of bangers and mash. As much as I would love to elaborate on the delicious-ness that was had, I haven't really slept more than a few hours at a time over the past week, so I'm due for a coma. Meanwhile, you can see more pics of our meal and the rest of today's adventures on my flickr site.
Yum.
After a long journey by bus and Tube, Heathrow to Notting Hill, several wide circles and a long walk down Portabello Road, we finally made it to Cockney's Mash and Pie, only to find that it was closed Sundays and Mondays. Determined to remain undefeated in our quest for pie, we walked back up Portabello a bit and happened upon a quirky-named cafe.
Behold, the S&M Cafe, where S&M stands for "Sausage and Mash". Bingo.
Dad got the steak and ale pie with mushy peas, while I chose the traditional London mix of bangers and mash. As much as I would love to elaborate on the delicious-ness that was had, I haven't really slept more than a few hours at a time over the past week, so I'm due for a coma. Meanwhile, you can see more pics of our meal and the rest of today's adventures on my flickr site.
Yum.
We made it!
Wow. I am at this very moment sitting in a room in the Holiday Inn London Heathrow M4/J4, doing the same-old, same-old on my dad's laptop. Sweet. I am SO here. Hehehe.
I'll be here for a few days with my dad in London. He mostly has meetings, so I'm going to be bopping around a bit tomorrow and the next day, and then fly to Manchester on Thursday to catch up with him.
So far, things have been pretty mellow. The flight over was a breeze. I was a total geek in business class and gawked and played with all the gadgets available to me. (I had my own little stretchy light coming out of my seat, how cool is that?) I think my dad got a kick out of it. We also played musical chairs and diffused a pansy-ass who was complaining about his non-aisle standby seat. Seriously, I stretched out my legs and my feet had no hopes of touching the seat in front of me, and I could cross my legs Indian-style to boot, so I had no complaints about switching seats with him and sitting in the middle. Plus, with the amount he was hassling the staff on the plane, I was happy to sit as far away from him as possible.
Anyway, it's afternoon here; I think we're going to take a ride into town (the airport's just short of an hour from the city) and check out a Cockney pie and mash shop on the west end.
So the journey begins!
I'll be here for a few days with my dad in London. He mostly has meetings, so I'm going to be bopping around a bit tomorrow and the next day, and then fly to Manchester on Thursday to catch up with him.
So far, things have been pretty mellow. The flight over was a breeze. I was a total geek in business class and gawked and played with all the gadgets available to me. (I had my own little stretchy light coming out of my seat, how cool is that?) I think my dad got a kick out of it. We also played musical chairs and diffused a pansy-ass who was complaining about his non-aisle standby seat. Seriously, I stretched out my legs and my feet had no hopes of touching the seat in front of me, and I could cross my legs Indian-style to boot, so I had no complaints about switching seats with him and sitting in the middle. Plus, with the amount he was hassling the staff on the plane, I was happy to sit as far away from him as possible.
Anyway, it's afternoon here; I think we're going to take a ride into town (the airport's just short of an hour from the city) and check out a Cockney pie and mash shop on the west end.
So the journey begins!
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