Bye Bye Switzerland (4/5)

Leaving Switzerland… It’s a little bit bittersweet for me. Bitter because I have wanted to go to Switzerland for so many years now, but sweet because it is the most expensive place I have ever been and two more days in Switzerland would have ended my journey through Europe right then and there…. When you go into McDonalds for a hamburger and find that the least expensive thing on the menu (Americas version of ‘the dollar menu’) is 3 Franks and the average meal is 12 Franks (more or less 10 dollars I think), you know that something isn’t right. Either the Swiss missed the memo and somehow think that McDonalds

 is some of the highest quality gourmet food that you can find, or things are just ridiculously overpriced. I had a burger that wasn’t all that great, so I can attest to the second theory. Switzerland was, however, one of the most stunning, gorgeous places that I have ever gone. I feel like I need to come back sometime during the summer months to better take advantage of the natural beauty that it has to offer. As for seeing the Matterhorn, I woke up at 6:45 that morning to go see for myself the ‘most photographed mountain in the world’. 6:45 was at least 2 hours too early being that it didn’t even get light enough to see more than 15 feet ahead until about 9 am. I was on a mission though, so a little bit of darkness wasn’t about to stop me. I had a train to catch at 11:30 so I walked until about 9:30 to no avail. The clouds in front of the Matterhorn were so thick that by that point I was 60% positive that the mountain didn’t even exist, but was some Swiss lie that in one way or another allowed them to increase their McDonalds prices. I walked back down, got all my stuff together and when I was about 10 minutes from the train station the clouds cleared up just enough to let me see the lower half of the mountain. It wasn’t a lot, but it was all I needed to feel like the journey wasn’t a complete waste. It really did look beautiful though, and fortunately there are plenty of pictures that already exist and a ride in Disney Land, so I had a pretty good imagination of what the upper half of the mountain looked like as I stood peering up at it. 

Yesterday I went from Zurmatt to Zürich where I only stayed for one night. This morning I did the one thing that I had to do in Zürich, Switzerland – go to the FIFA headquarters. It is located a good distance outside of the city, but the public transit system is easy to navigate and my two weeks of travel experience made for a relatively easy find. Being there in Zürich, standing outside of those headquarters, not knowing when I would see them again, I knew that I would need to take full advantage of the opportunity. So I walked in, went to the front desk, and asked for a job. I told them that I didn’t care what I would be doing, I would polish the floor, clean the toilets, anything. I told them that I have been a football (soccer) fan all of my life, that I still play regularly and that I am an expert in FIFA. Unfortunately, none of my skills were needed at the moment but they told me to send in a fax or email and they would see what they could do. After that I saw the World Cup replica trophy so I knew that I needed a picture with it. I asked the front desk lady to take a picture of me and, not knowing when I would be with the world cup replica trophy again, I knew that I needed to do something special, so before she could say anything I kissed it. And now I have a sweet picture of me kissing the World Cup trophy. USA all the way baby!!

Anyways as of this very moment I am on a train headed for Salzburg, Austria. From there I have a 10 minute layover – so I really hope that this efficient, on time Swiss travel system lives up to its billing – and then a two hour train ride to a small ski town called Kitzbuhel (I should be there by 11 tonight). I will be in Kitzbuhel for 3 nights so hopefully that translates into 2 full days of skiing. After that I am going to Budapest, Hungary for 3 days where I will meet up with one of my friends from Sevilla. That is all for now! Lets go train!

Also what happened with the Broncos? Marshall and Schefler being demoted for the most important game of the season? And the Broncos apparently not showing up in any way whatsoever? I don’t get it. Maybe its time for a new coach….

Interlaken Italians (30-3)

(Left: In Florence with Hercules)
Wow, I can't believe how long it has been since I last updated my blog! I mean I guess its really only been about 6 days, but so much has happened that if feels like weeks! My last couple of days in Florence were enjoyable - I toured the academia and saw David, which was much more impressive than I ever imagined, and hung out with my roomates. We all became pretty good friends and I think I'm going to go visit two of the guys in the Netherlands (they are graduate students, studying there until July) and/or in South America at some point (they are from Chile and Columbia).
                                                                                                            
                                                                                                       (Hiking in Interlaken, had to prove that I was there...)

Lets see, so last wednesday I took the train from Florence to Milan to Interlaken. Some of the scenery we passed along the way was absolutely stunning. Small towns on green, rolling hills located on the edge of huge lakes with massive, snow capped mountains rising straight out of the water. I wish I could figure out how to get my pictures up to show everybody! Interlaken itself had me speechless (not that I had anybody to talk to when I arrived haha) and had me thinking of moving there as soon as we reached it.  A river runs through the middle of the town, a huge lake is a mere 5 minutes away and jagged peaks lock the town in - I felt like it was as close to Hoovile ("The Grinch") as anybody could ever get. I spent my second day in Interlaken wandering around, climbing hills and exploring the lake side. I don't know if I've ever taken so many pictures in only one day.

(Left: My first impression of Interlaken - I was ready to move there with that one view; the following 3 pictures are of Interlaken)

Anyways, now to explain the title of this blog. One of the beauties (and somewhat nerve-racking) things about staying in hostels is that, every time you open that door to your room, you don't know what your going to find. Are your roomates there? Do you have roomates? Are they American? Are the friendly? Well, I opened the door to my room in Interlaken to find 2 bunkbeds scrunched together, a couple feet of floor space and 3 Italian guys. They seemed nice enough, but they didn't speak English too well and I will admit that I was a bit disappointed at first. But, with anything in life, you just need to give it some time - which, in this case, was about one day. There were 4 other Italians that they were traveling with in an adjoining room and they all invited me to spend New Years Eve with them. We played fusbol, pool, sang, talked and learned about each others culture. They were hilarious guys and a couple were actually very good at english and we became pretty fast friends. The next day I was supposed to leave to another hostel in Interlaken so I didn't think that I would see them again, but the first hostel we were in was overbooked for the next 2 nights and the Italians were kicked out and put in, as luck would have it, my hostel.

The owner of the first hostel told the Italians that he would drive them to the second hostel at around 11 in the morning of the 1st of January and so I decided to wait for them to leave to see if I could hitch a ride too. We woke up at 10, at breakfast, waited until 11, then 12, then 1 and the owner still had not shown up. We went and ate lunch at McDonalds and when we got back he still had not shown up. At around 4 the owner finally got to the hostel and told us that he was in no good state for driving and that we would have to get there ourselves. He gave us directions and told us what bus to take so we all set off down the road, 7 Italians and 1 American, suitcases dragging along behind us as we made our way to Lake Lodge. This hostel was located in Iseltwald, about 30 minutes outside of Interlaken, but there is another Lake Lodge located in a neighboring town 15 minutes outside of Interlaken and, of course, the owner had 'mistakenly' given us those directions. So, after a bus ride, some walking and a little bit of confusion, we showed up at this hostel to see a sign reading "closed until April". At this exact moment, maybe the man above was sad for us, it began to pour. We were about 15 minutes from the nearest bus station and had no idea where we were supposed to go. It was this experience, that easily could have upset about 90% of travelers, that really brought us all together. We joked, laughed, sang in the rain (they love the Beatles, Bob Marley, 'singin in the rain', and blink 182) and eventually made our way to the bus and, miraculously (as it usually is when it comes to me and hostel finding/destinations in general) found the hostel.
                                                                                                    (All of the Italians that I met)

We cooked dinner that night (in water that took one        hour and 15 minutes to boil) 'murphys law' they all kept saying, and went to Burn together the next day. In those couple of days I learned much much more about Italy, Italians and Italian culture than I did in 4 days in Florence. They are from Bologna and invited me to come visit them around the 15th of January (near the end of my trip). They were probably the most easy going, chill, funny people that I have ever met. They knew more about American movie culture/actors/ect than I did, but it was the first time they had ever met an American and I think its safe to say I gave them a pretty good impression. It was a bit sad leaving, but more adventures/people to meet are ahead!                      

I am currently in Zurmatt, Switzerland - home of the famous Matterhorn; though unfortunately I have yet to see it as the clouds are covering it in, but I'm hoping to catch a glimpse of it tomorrow morning if I wake up early enough. Its a neat little town (only accessible by train) but incredibly expensive - definitely the aspen of switzerland. I was thinking of skiing here, but I've already wasted enough money in getting here/finding a hostel, so tomorrow I'm probably going to leave and head to Zurich for a couple of nights.


(Above: pondering the next move with Paolo)

I think that about brings everything up to date! Happy 2010! Lets go Broncos!

London to Florence 27/28

I don’t think that I have ever found myself in a country where I have so little means of communication. I feel almost fluent in Spanish now that I realize how bad my Italian is. But, unfortunately, this fact didn’t occur to me until I landed in Bologna, Italy, yesterday afternoon. Before I get to that though, I think that, once again, it is worth describing my journey to the said location.

I woke up that morning at 7, got on the right metro for London Liverpool Street and arrived with few troubles. The next step was to get a train ticket for the airport, but, as luck would have it, the train was down for the day due to reconstruction. I asked around and eventually found a bus station with buses headed to the airport that came once every half hour. Of course, the bus pulled away just as I arrived. One thing I am much better at now, however, is not getting too upset when things like this happen. I took some deep breaths, realized that it was all out of my control and searched for means of entertainment until the next bus/train/plane/ect. arrived.

I flew out of the same airline that I came in on – RyanAir. This time, however, I had accumulated another bag, which I was planning on putting under the plane. The bag had some of my snow stuff such as pants, jacket, gloves, ect and weighed all of 2 kilograms. The cost to bring it on the plane? An extra 35 euros. So that meant that I had to get creative. I put my jacket and pants on and found little places to hide the other stuff and, looking like I was about to jump off one of those helicopters and start skiing, I boarded the plane. Upon landing I took everything off and put it back into the bag, but it was a pretty toasty plane ride.

So now we are at where I began this blog, Bologna. Like I said, this was the first time I realized how little Italian I actually knew – two words: gratzi and bonjorno. I knew what I had to do to get to Florence, but like all travel in Europe, that proved to be more difficult than I would have desired. I somehow was able to find a bus from the Bologna airport to the Bologna train station and from there I purchased a train ticket to Florence. The first ticket I purchased was for a train out of a different station, however, so I had to repurchase another one which was 20 euros more. The train ride wasn’t bad though, only about an hour, and this time I actually had the address of my hostel and a map from the station to the hostel. It still took some exploring, but with help from a tourist office, I was able to find it without the help of a taxi.

Last night there were two other people in my room, both of whom were traveling together from Boston. We went out to dinner last night and then explored the city, amidst a good deal of rain, today. Four new people just moved in and they all speak Spanish as their main language, so its pretty cool being able to have conversations with them. Tomorrow I have tickets for the Academia (apparently a pretty famous art museum) and I leave for Switzerland on Wednesday.

Also, I am trying to put up pictures because I have a lot but my camera won’t connect to the computer! I will continue trying because right now this blog looks like a book and is in some serious need of beautification.

Italian words that I now know:

Prego/a – used for everything imaginable

Cerna – can be used for hello

I am learning! Jajajaja

1st photo - The famous Florentine Duomo Cathedral (first to use a dome like structure - which you can't see here jaja)
2nd photo - 2 very strong men... must be gods or something

Troubles with Travel - London, England (23-27)

When I finished writing the previous blog I figured that I had about 15 more minutes before we would begin boarding the plane… I was about 2 hours off. They wrote that the plane had been delayed on the departure screen, but neglected to tell anybody in any way how long that delay would be. I was confused, to say the least, but everybody else seemed to be perfectly ok, and, being that a line was beginning to form, I hopped right in it, figuring that it wouldn’t be long until we left. After about 45 minutes of standing in that same place I began to doubt myself. I wanted to move, to go sit down, but the line behind me was further than I could see and there was no way that I was going to risk losing my position. So I stood there. And stood there some longer. I guessed that it was a combination of two things: Spain and RyanAir. Spain can be a very layed back country and RyanAir can be a terrible airline. So, when you combine the two, long waits with no notice may be quite common. We eventually did take off and I was pleasantly surprised to pass through customs in England in no more than 10 minutes. I got train tickets (the airport is about an hour outside of London) to go into the city and boarded the train with no problems. It was at this moment, feeling quite content with myself, that I realized I had forgot 2 magazines, a book and some traditional Spanish chocolates I had bought for my cousins. I have no idea where I left them – either the plane, the customs desk or the ticket desk – but regardless of the place, I knew that somebody else was going to get an early Christmas gift.

At about 12 that night I arrived at London Liverpool Street. From there I figured that I would simply take a metro that would miraculously drop me off at my hostel. Boy was I mistaken. Maybe I had been overconfident as I knew that I was traveling to an English speaking country, but all I had on me was the name of the hostel,  “Astor Kensington”.  I took a metro that had Kensington on the map, but unfortunately it went in the opposite direction and then, at “Alsgate” decided to call it a night. So now I found myself even further from where I wanted to be, in a metro that had closed for the night with almost no idea of where my hostel was. I asked a cab driver how much a ride into Kensington would cost and he told me 40 pounds if we were lucky. I decided to try to get there on my own. I wandered around for a bit and found a different metro station, read the map with a bit more care, and then, at around 1 am got on a train headed towards Kensington. Only now a new problem presented itself: there were three Kensingtons. High Street Kensington, West Kensington and South Kensington.  I did a short little game of ennie-mennie-minie-moe and got off at South Kensington. From there I asked a cab driver to take me to the Marriot (it was where my cousins were staying and I figured the chances of him knowing of that were better than the hostel) and when we got there I asked him if he knew of the hostel because on google maps it was close by. We drove up and down the street a couple of times and, at precisely 2am I entered the front doors of Astor Kensington.

We would hope that the journey would stop here, and it kind of does, but you know those moments when all you want is a place to put your stuff and a bed to fall in? Well, that’s exactly how I was feeling. Only, to my utter disappointment, the floor of the hostel was covered with bags and clothes and all the beds looked like they had yet to be cleaned. I eventually decided on the top bunk of a bed that looked reasonably neat, threw all of my stuff up onto it with me and passed out. It was by no means easy (I had technically started at 9am that morning when I caught a bus to Santander), but I figure any story that ends with some sort of bed and sleep can be deemed a happy ending.

The next 3 days were exactly what I needed. Time with family, big meals, pools, hot tubs, movies, sight seeing, relaxing, long/hot showers, very little time in the hostel. I wouldn’t have wanted to spend Christmas in London any other way. Thank you Pierce family!

Spanish Adventures (19-23)

I am currently in the Santander, Spain airport killing some time before my flight to London so I thought I’d start writing a little update on my adventure to this point. So far I have been to Toledo, Madrid and San Sebastian. Marco and I took the overnight bus to Madrid on Saturday night and then caught another bus that morning to Toledo where we spent most of the day. It was a pretty cool little city and, if you don’t like to see other tourists, the perfect time to go. First off, it was a Sunday – always a quiet day in Spain – and second off the temperature was having trouble getting above 1 degree Celsius, which is about 34 degrees Farenheight. The city has the same Muslim foundations as Sevilla, but what makes it so unique is that much of the Muslim constructions remain standing today. It is located on a hill and is enclosed by a “Muralla” in which everything of importance to the Islamic tradition can be found. The streets are narrow, steep and windy – and the drivers are crazy. I think that they rival off-road drivers in terms of spectacularness for the places where they manage to fit those vehicles. We spent the day wandering, getting lost, finding our way back to the cathedral (located in the middle of the city) and then getting lost some more. It wasn’t too big which allowed us to see just about everything in the time that we were given.

We returned to Madrid with no plan for the following night or, for that matter, the next 3 days. Our original idea was to go to take an overnight bus to Bilbao, but that bus would have had us arriving at 5:00 am – a little bit early given that we had no place to stay. We searched other destinations and eventually decided to take the 12:30 am bus to San Sebastian. Accordingly, we arrived at 6:30 am and began our search for a place to stay. We found a bar with internet and from there we booked a hostel for that night. We got there at about 8 in the morning and had to ring the doorbell on and off for about half an hour before somebody finally came to our service. The workers weren’t there, but we slept in the main room for a couple of hours – bed or no bed it felt amazing to lie down – before heading out into the city. And, as luck would have it, it just so happened to be the day of the biggest festival in San Sebastian. San Sebastian is located in the Bask country in the north of Spain and, as we quickly discovered, is a completely different culture when compared with that of Andalusia. In honor of the holiday (I hope) all of the woman wore dresses that reminded me of those worn by the Omish and the men wore little hats like the Scottish. San Sebastian is located right on the coast and receives a lot of moisture making it a very green area. The people combined with the scenery convinced me time and time again that we were in Ireland, Scotland or the 1800’s. The streets were jam-packed with people drinking sidra (a famous type of cider – which is very unsavory) and eating chorizo (which is also ate in sevilla, but is made differently here). From 11 that morning to 12 that night the setting didn’t change. People singing, dancing old dances and talking in their native tongue of Bask. This language, as far as anybody knows, has absolutely no similarities to any other in the world, in fact, nobody even knows where the Bask as a group of people derived from. I at first thought that there were similarities between this and Celtic, but I ran into an Irish person who told me that that was like comparing English to Chinese. We spent the day exploring the city, watching the festivities and doing the recommended sightseeing. We also walked what had to be 10 miles. We both loved San Sebastian as a city itself. The wide, clearly marked streets were a nice contrast to those narrow, curvy ones found in Sevilla and Toledo. It was all incredibly green (one color that Sevilla severely lacks) and the fact that it was located right on the ocean brought it all together- though maybe the summer would have been a better time for taking advantage of such water.

Marco left the next day (Tuesday) but I stayed and spent the majority of my time trying to rediscover the incredibly cheap sandwich shop that we had found the day before to no avail. I met some Australian mates (say in Australian accent or else that looks weird) and we went out to a few tapa, or “pincha”, bars. In San Sebastian they have this technique where they put the little tapas (be it little sandwiches, croquetas, pimientos, ect) on the bar in front of you. The plates are continually full (you aren’t, due to their size) and incredibly delicious looking. The idea is that you eat as many as you want and then tell the bar tender how many you had at the end and pay for it then. In terms of profit making the system is ingenious. A) You just can’t stop yourself B) they’re small enough that you can’t fill yourself up C) they are very good and D) they are ridiculously overpriced. We were in one bar for a grand total of 30 minutes and ended up with a bill of 37 euros between the 4 of us. We could have ate 37 one euro cheesburgers at mcdonalds. That’s almost 10 to each of us. But I guess that you have to experience that local flavor.

So I guess that phase one of the adventure is almost over – the Spain phase. Now its off to England for 4 days followed by Florence. Anybody know some helpful/essential Italian???

- Top left: Me in Toledo
- Top right: Toledo
- Bottom right: Me in San Sebastian
- Bottom left: Marco and I in San Sebastian at some famous (we couldn't figure out why) statues

Also this isn't quite how I would have chosen to arrange the photos, but this program is impossible to work with. And even more than impossible to get how you want it to look.

Bon Voyage!

So I’m about to start my adventure! My friend Marco and I leave at 1 am tonight and take a bus headed for Madrid. From there we are going to visit Toledo, which is only about an hour from Madrid, and then we’re going to head up towards the north of Spain (what’s that saying? ‘it rains on the plains in the north of spain’ or something? Anybody know what I am referring to? Audrey Hepburn I believe…) for a few days. On the 23^rd I leave him and fly from Santander to London where I’m going to meet my cousins for Christmas. I stay there until the 27^th and then things gradually get a little bit less organized. From London I fly to Bologna, Italy and then I’m either going to go to Florence then Milan or Venice then Milan. From Milan I am planning on heading up to Zürich, Switzerland for New Years. I have a 10-day pass (which can be used over the course of 2 months) in Italy, Switzerland, Austria, France and Spain. The plan is to travel throughout those countries for about 3 weeks upon which I will return to Sevilla for my second quarter – I have to be here by January 20. I will do my best to keep everybody updated and post pictures from everywhere that I go! If anybody thinks I absolutely have to do something in any of those countries please tell me! Ok, here I go, hasta luego!

Essay Competition

We had the option of writing an essay for our program about a particular experience we had here in Sevilla. The winner got 100 euros! (I am approximately 100 euros richer...) Here is what I wrote!

Starring blankly into his eyes, his face marked with the frustration of trying to explain a simple task to somebody who can hardly understand a word of his language, I tried to find the perfect speed at which to nod my head. Not too slow, that would convey confusion, but not too fast either, because then I would look crazy, and you don’t want your host family thinking that they were given the spaz kid on your first night in the house. No, just the right speed to show that, hey, don’t worry, I think I can figure out how to turn the air conditioner on. Regardless, when my host dad finally left the room I felt as though a hurricane had just pummeled my brain into oblivion, leaving me with less knowledge of both the Spanish language and of your common air conditioning unit. Trying not to feel frustrated, I reminded myself that being abroad wasn’t going to be easy. On the bright side, I thought, at least I have an air conditioner and, as I turned it on and went to sleep that night, I wondered if I would ever call this new bed, in this foreign country, my own.

It wasn’t long, however, before I woke up that night in what I first suspected to be a hot tub, but soon realized was a bed drenched with sweat. I turned to the air conditioning unit and changed the setting from medium to high and somehow, amidst that pool of water, fell back asleep. The next time I woke up it was if I had just finished running a marathon wearing a wet suit and a football helmet. Sweat was pouring down the sides of my face, my pillow was nothing short of drenched and water creatures were starting to grow on their newfound pond.

I will never forget the reaction of my host dad when he walked into my room that morning. The look on his face was a combination of shock and complete horror, like he had unexpectedly walked into a blazingly hot place. He looked at me, losing body water at what had to be record pace, went over to the air conditioning unit and burst out laughing. He called his wife in to have a look and I heard the first word I actually understood since arriving at my home stay – “sauna”, the same as in English. “Sauna!” they said, louder and louder between their uncontrollable spurts of laughter. And then it dawned on me. I hadn’t turned the air conditioner on at all that night, but the heater. I could have roasted marshmallows on it, or used it to stay warm in the middle of an Antarctic winter, or, as I so wisely chose, put it in a room that was already hovering around 38 C. I couldn’t help but join in. It was our first family experience together and, as I have since realized, would be an analogy for my time abroad.

We arrive here with the very basics. We know what language is spoken, but whether or not we understand that language is a completely different question. We know where we want to travel, but getting to the desired destination is an adventure in itself. We might know what kind of food is common or what sports are played, but that’s all we are equipped with; the bare minimums. It’s the details, like how to work a Spanish air conditioner, that you can only learn through actually being here. We start off as foreigners, but by the end we are all part of another culture, a different society, a new family. Its not always easy, there will be days when the simplest of tasks seem like the greatest of accomplishments, but through each experience we grow, we learn, we adapt and we become. Everybody came here with different goals, different objectives, but we all will leave with something in common, we all will return home with a little piece of our new home, with a little piece of Spain. The next time life makes me sweat, the next time I feel completely and utterly confused, I know that I will think back to that first night in Sevilla, remind myself that its all part of the journey, and have a little laugh.