Aran Islands

At the cliff outside Dun Aonghasa

Right now, I'm on Inishmore in the Aran Islands, off the west coast of Ireland. Originally, I was only planning to spend a night here before returning to happenin' Galway. I get the sense that this place could be pretty popular during the summer (if such a thing exists), but right now it's very quiet- perfect place to stop and relax and catch up with the world as well as catch up with myself.

On my first day, I had some good weather (light showers) and walked most of the island. The highlight was Dún Aonghasa, a fort built in the 2nd century BC. That's B.C.! Click the wikipedia link, they explain it better than I could.

                                    Panorama video from inside Dun Aonghasa

I also was blown away by all the stone walls. I haven't done any research but it seems like they were built both for herd rotation and to clear the rocky land for crops. A fellow traveller told me that there are something like 20,000 miles of stone walls on the island, which is remarkable because it is only 9 mile long and 2 miles wide.

I took a self-timed Giordann pose photo along one of the walls for all the sibies, Greeny in particular, roughly a year after the Barcelona trip. I'm not going to explain this photo for the rest of you bc it's not possible. I couldn't explain it to the Irishman tending to his herd on the other side of the wall either, so don't feel left out.

Yesterday, I barely left the hostel. It was raining, it was pouring, the old man was snoring, it was windy and I was lazy. Around sundown, everything calmed a bit an I decided I needed to earn that frozen pizza, so I took a short walk along the sea. If I learned anything from Vrango, it was that any island, no matter how small or how often the ferries run, has a football field. I was beginning to have my doubts about Inishmore because I had already found the school and there was no sign of a pitch (nice terminology, Sam!). But sure enough, along the beach, I found it, complete with rugby goalposts and probably something for hurling too, but I don't know what hurling is yet.

Today, I set out on a wander and came upon Teampall Chiarain, an 8th/9th century church. I found myself thinking about two people I care about greatly who are in poor health-my great grandmother Gackie and my uncle Freddy. It was an incredibly peaceful place and I found it a great place for a long stop and think, which I dedicated to them.

Eutin Tigers

I took a side trip to Eutin, Germany to meet Bob Alexander, coach of the Eutin Tigers, a premier youth club basketball team.

I'd grown frustrated by the lack of basketball I've seen thus far on the trip. I saw a few kids bouncing balls on the streets of Berlin, but they couldn't even string multiple dribbles together. Occasionally I'd see a court from a distance and hear the sounds of competition, but when I got closer, I always found street soccer.

So, the Eutin stop was refreshing first because I got to get in a gym on the first day of preseason for Swarthmore basketball 2011-2012 (Watch out Centennial!). I got some shots up in my running shoes, which felt great but also made me miss the game more because I wanted to get some live action, but knew that my glass ankles in lowtop NewBalances was a bad combination.

It was great to talk to Bob about basketball and travel. Basketball has taken him all over Europe and he has gotten to coach great kids in Germany and Croatia. Basketball has taken me many places as well-as a player, coach and fan-and I can't really imagine my life without it. Get that labor deal done, the only thing between the Knicks and a 'chip is this lockout!

Vrango

I woke up in Gothenburg with no plans. I had heard good things about the city's pub culture and the previous night confirmed them, but the city wasn't renowned for it's sights or daytime entertainment. A South African guy who'd been there awhile (because he lost his passport at the pubs) recommended the islands off Sweden's west coast, which were only a tram and a ferry away, so I headed out.

The port

I took thee ferry to the last stop, a small island called Vrango. I had no map, plan or any clue what this island was about and I was keen (talkin like an Aussie) to find out...as long as nothing resembled Lost.

The first thing that struck me was that there were more ice cream stands (5) than cars (0), although it looked like the stands were closed for the winter. Boats were the primary vehicle. To get around on land, locals walked, rode bikes or rode on the back of a friends bike. These people never needed cars, never wanted them and probably never will. Props to them.

As I walked along the "main" street I was surprised to see so many Swedish flags. These people were pretty self-sufficient, so I guess I expected a more independent attitude. Every house had a blue and gold flag waving proudly-some had two or three.

The water-as it was in the middle of Stockholm-was so clean, a perfect crystal blue, very inviting despite the whipping winds. In Stockholm, when the weather allows, you can jump right in off the docks in the middle of a metropolis of 2 million people. Try doing that in the Schuykill and you'll emerge with an extra leg and missing an ear.

After covering most of the perimeter of the island, I stopped to check the island map posted in the town center. They had little icons for the ferry, the helicopter and the fotbolsplan. I should have known there would be soccer out here. I followed the signs and stumbled upon the local mens soccer club playing a squad from one of the other islands.

It was an interesting lineup-some of the players were balding, some hadn't finished puberty, some were fat and some were tall and skinny. One of them, who I believe is Doug Yeates' Swedish cousin, was wearing fullbody Under Armor under his jersey. They weren't terribly skilled, but were having a blast playing in front of a small crowd of their neighbors and friends. They must have thought I was terribly lost.

Swedish Doug

Stockholm

Due to some time issues with trains in Germany (they do exist), I got to Sweden a day later than planned, but after a great night's rest in a Hamburg business hotel comped by the DB.

My first night, I sprang for a pricy bunk in a converted ship. The idea was cool and it was a pretty comfortable hostel, but the novelty of sleeping on a ship wore off very quick. So someone better like these pictures...

From my bunk

View from the ship at night

That first night, before I had given up on finding reasonably prices in Sweden, I wandered downtown looking for a place to eat. After an hour I hadn't found anything under 20 dollars and had resigned to starve. I did find a bar with 4 dollar beers and decided it was as close as I'd get. After ordering a beer, I noticed every Swede was glued to a projection screen of the Swedish national soccer team's Euro qualifying match against Netherlands, a World Cup finalist. The Swedes were underdogs, but needed the win to qualify and were the home side.

I found a spot near the tv between two locals, one in his 60s and one about my age. At first, they were skeptical about sharing their bar shelf with an American basketball player. By half-time I'd proven that I knew a little about the game and that I was rooting for Sweden and they warmed up to me.

Sweden came from behind to win 3-2. Much celebration and many cheers' ensued. After the game the older Swede walked me back to the pier because I hadn't found a free map yet and was rather disoriented from my failed food search.

He showed me the exact alley where the Swedish prime minister was assassinated in 1988(?).

The guy's name is unspellable unfortunately, but he did tell me it meant "peace lover" in Slovak, his native tongue. I asked what brought him to Sweden and he gave me his entire (but wholly intriguing) life story. In 1968, when he was 19, he went to Sweden by himself to visit a girl. While he was there, the USSR invaded Slovakia. He was sentenced to a year and a half in prison for traveling abroad, but never served time because he didn't go home. His grandfather served five years for not turning in all his savings from his fur factory to the communists. His father also served time for a small offense.

This man's story was especially interesting because I just from Berlin, where we heard stories about families separate for years by a Soviet wall. Also, in Prague, we went to the Museum of Communism which traced the history of the USSR's involvement in Czechoslovakia.

I moved to a slightly cheaper hostel for my final two Stockholm nights. It was still 35 dollars, but had free pasta you could cook for yourself. I did.

Mauer Park flea market

Acting on a tip from Rory, who's studying in Berlin, my mom and I went to the Mauer Park flea market on Sunday, our last day in the city.

I've been pretty proud of my pack job. Many of my fellow travellers have had bigger backpacks than mine, which has been a small source of pride. Whenever my teammate Ryan and I would travel or go home for break, we would compete to see who could pack lighter. I think I picked Ryan up from the airport last spring break and he had checked a bag, which a true light packer would never do. he hd some excuse, but it wasn't good enough to remember.

The last few days in Berlin were pretty gray and wet, however, and I began to rue my last minute decision to ditch my extra sweater on the way to the airport back in Burlington. With a week in Scandinavia on the horizon, I knew I needed another layer. The Vikings levy pretty serious taxes for their welfare state, so an impulse buy sweater would cost a pretty penny.

After scouring the grounds Mauer Park for a couple hours I was about to buy a screen printed sweatshirt from a Berlin local designer when I saw a huge Pelle Pelle sweater in one of the second hand alleys. I'm a sucker for random stuff like that-a second hand Pelle Pelle sweater in Berlin?-so I had to have it. At a price of four euros I couldn't even haggle. Also, if I decide I hate it, maybe I can probably sell it for 100 krona in Stockholm since everything's so expensive there. But by all accounts, the Swedish are very stylish, so who knows.

Pelle Pelle

I also snagged a watch and a shirt for my bro's birthday. Happy birthday Tom!

Content with my haul, we headed out the side of the market and noticed a crowd gathering around an outdoor stage. We followed and discovered Bearpit Karaoke, which was definitely an experience and a more uplifting way to end our trip than all the Holocaust and Berlin Wall history we had been absorbing.

Emceed by a funny Irish guy, the karaoke wasn't great, but it was entertaining and a very unique scene. There may have been 3,000 people in the crowd and another 500 within earshot playing awful basketball, juggling or just hanging in the park. I was expecting some impressive singers because I couldn't imagine going up in front of that audience unless I knew I was good. Or at least knew the words. I learned that other people are much more willing to fail or look like a fool in the name of good fun.

Some of the crowd for karaoke

The crowd favorite was probably an older German guy named Detlef (shouts to my Seattle crew) who sang a rousing German version of Praise the Lord. And gave a remarkable amount of bows afterwards. There were some flops, each met with the proper amount of sharp criticism from the host. Aside from Detlef, there were singers from Boston, Belarus, "Gay" Paris (his own emphasis) and a random guy in a king costume who seemed to have gotten lost on the drama club annual outing.

I had a lot of fun and have a lot of respect for them all going up in front of a large audience to do something they're not very good at. Kinda like Alex Rodriguez!

Wroclaw

We ended up in Wroclaw by geography alone. It was right smack in-between Krakow and Berlin and we didn't want to do ten hours straight on a train.

The university city really surprised us. The old town center was our favorite-over Prague and Krakow (Berlin's doesn't exist). We found an incredible restaurant right on the square named Lwowska. I had pork ribs and perogies. There's been some pretty stiff competition, but I can confidently state that it was the best meal of the trip- so far.

Halfway through our meal we heard a commotion on the far corner of the square. It got closer and closer and turned out to be a type of protest. There weren't too many people but they were plenty pissed about something. About what, we had idea, but we figured it must have been pretty controversial because they were followed by many police officers in riot gear. We forgot about it a couple minutes later because the perogies were so damn good. Maybe ten minutes later we heard commotion again, but it was noticeably louder, more coordinated and more peaceful. Judging by the rainbow colors and signs reading WrocLove, we guessed it was a gay pride rally. We then surmised that the previous group was the anti-gay rally.


After wandering the city for a few hours, we crossed back through the main square. As I reluctantly was checking the map, we heard the now familiar sound of Polish free speech. This group was bigger than the other two. Some of the group was rowdier than the previous groups and some were more peaceful. I should have been able to tell what they were protesting at that point, but it wasn't until I saw the mass of green clothes, dreads and Bob Marley flag.

Guess which rally

I'll leave you to make your own conclusions about the most important issues to young people in Poland.

Auschwitz-Birkenau

An hour and a half outside Krakow, the notorious Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration/extermination camps provide an uncomfortable reminder of the vicious crimes against humanity committed by the Nazis.

Entrance to Auschwitz: "Work will set you free

I'm not sure I'm capable of explaining my reaction to the camps (can anyone?) so I'll try to explain the lasting images that will stick in my head probably for the rest of my life. As depressing as the place is, I highly recommend seeing it. I don't think I'll ever go back.

In Auschwitz, they had several collections of things that were taken from prisoners, each more and more dehumanizing.

Books-take away their education, entertainment and concept of an outside world.

Eyeglasses-take away their sight.

Hairbrushes, toothbrushes, shoe polish brushes-take away their ability to control their appearance and basic sanitation.

Human hair- take away their personality. There was a display the width of a basketball court of human hair. In one hall, pictures of male prisoners lined the left wall and female prisoners lined the right. The inmates were almost indistinguishable by gender.

They also preserved the punishment barracks to show the different types of torture employed-suffocation, starvation, standing for days on end, arm breaking, more.

There was a wall between two Barracks that used to be used for firing squads before the gas chambers were developed. The Nazis found that the firing squad was too inefficient and personal. They wanted something of greater scale and with no human contact.

Our guide told us that the guards at the gas chambers often made the prisoners believe they were taking a shower. They would tell the prisoners to take off their clothes and remember where they left them, but they obviously never got to collect them.

The last and most chilling image that's etched into my memory are the fingernail scratches on the walls of the gas chamber.