I was pretty excited to take the Danube ferry from Bratislava to Vienna. In retrospect I don't know why I got so hyped for a mode of transportation that was a half hour longer and five euros more expensive than th train. It rained the whole time and this stretch of the Danube isn't the most picturesque in Europe, even if it is one of the most integral. The Danube flows through ten countries and has another eight in it's drainage basin. The river's historical importance was evident in the industrial factories and warehouses along its shores. In Budapest I could practically see the riverside markets and traders unloading foreign goods a century or so ago before trains took over. All said, however, I think I may have appreciated the river more from a highspeed train.
I don't feel qualified to comment on Vienna as a city. I didn't give it a fair chance-staying less than 24 hours in a world-class capital city. The old town had several museums and incredible buildings, but I didn't explore any beyond a fleeting snap of my camera. I got the feeling that there's a ton to see and do in Vienna if you're there for a week, but if you're only there for a night or two, you don't know where to start.
...so I skipped town in a converted Ford transit with three Aussies in the front seat and three Americans as cargo. It was the type of plan that could only be hatched after the right mix of Pilsner Urquell and VB .
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Making million dollar blogs on my iPod
Rick Ross famously bragged that he is "making million dollar deals on his iPhone. I don't believe him for a second but it is pretty wild what these little rectangular Apples can do. I've been using my iPod touch to communicate with people back home, link up with people I meet over here and now blog. There is wifi in all the hostels and train stations over here, so even though I deleted all the music from my iPod I've been using it all the time. Time will tell whether I can survive going cold turkey on Frank Ocean, J Cole and The Weeknd.
Bratislava was initially underwhelming due to grey, rainy weather and unrealistic expectations set by an incredible weekend in Budapest. The Slovenian capital turned out to be a pretty cool little city though. Very relaxed and lots of places to sit and read.
On the second night I walked downtown from my hostel and got caught in a pretty tough rainstorm. I ducked into the nearest bar to dry off and wait out the downpour. There were a dozen or so middle aged Slovak men watching a soccer game and they wanted nothing to do with me. I can't really blame them-I was wet, foreign and speaking English.
Back at the hostel, just as I was about to chalk Bratislava up as a loss I met a group of young Bratislavans celebrating their friend's birthday in the basement reggae bar. I don't know how they got into reggae but they were hardcore about it and it was soon clear that the hostel bar was a reggae bar because this crew took it over as their regular hangout and made it that way. They were very interested in the US, California in particular. One of them even had a homemade Tupac leather jacket.
In Budapest I started to think I was pretty good at foosball, Eastern Europe's bar game of choice, because I beat Jordan in a 3 game series. I stepped up to the table against two Slovakians and got destroyed. Stepovers, pass fakes, intentional back passes. I'm only playing Americans from now on.
Bratislava was initially underwhelming due to grey, rainy weather and unrealistic expectations set by an incredible weekend in Budapest. The Slovenian capital turned out to be a pretty cool little city though. Very relaxed and lots of places to sit and read.
On the second night I walked downtown from my hostel and got caught in a pretty tough rainstorm. I ducked into the nearest bar to dry off and wait out the downpour. There were a dozen or so middle aged Slovak men watching a soccer game and they wanted nothing to do with me. I can't really blame them-I was wet, foreign and speaking English.
Back at the hostel, just as I was about to chalk Bratislava up as a loss I met a group of young Bratislavans celebrating their friend's birthday in the basement reggae bar. I don't know how they got into reggae but they were hardcore about it and it was soon clear that the hostel bar was a reggae bar because this crew took it over as their regular hangout and made it that way. They were very interested in the US, California in particular. One of them even had a homemade Tupac leather jacket.
In Budapest I started to think I was pretty good at foosball, Eastern Europe's bar game of choice, because I beat Jordan in a 3 game series. I stepped up to the table against two Slovakians and got destroyed. Stepovers, pass fakes, intentional back passes. I'm only playing Americans from now on.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Budapest
I'm writing from the basement basement bar of a hostel in Bratislava. They decided that it would be cool to go with a theme based off of Quentin Tarrantino's Hostel. Bloody bathtub, fake dead body. Home sweet home.
I arrived yesterday by train and bid adieu to Jordan and Becky after a weekend in Budapest, Hungary. Budapest was incredible and a city I could have spent a week or five in. In three nights, however, I feel like I got a pretty good slice of the city, which is probably why I feel so tired and worry that I might be searching in vain for a relaxing night in this Tarrantino loving hostel.
Other than three close calls involving money and valuables, I loved my time in Budapest. When I got to Budapest on Thursday, I was rejected by all the ATMs and all the check cashing places declined both of my credit cards and had already spent my first emergency cash stash on pizza at the Amsterdam airport. I had a second emergency stash of 30 British Pounds that my grandmother Bebe sent me, which I wasn't planning to use until I got to England, but quickly exchanged for 7000 Hungarian forint. Sounds like a nice exchange rate, but kebabs are 700 forint. So I had gone through two emergency cash stashes before even entering the Budapest city limits.
I've got this black journal that sort of doubles as a folder. I feel very important and grown up carrying this thing around, but have twice proven that I'm not mature enough for a black book/folder. Before I even left Vermont, I lost the damn thing on the way to the airport. Dad/Chuck saved me that time for my free pass. Then today, o the way to make a train reservation, I stopped at an ATM to withdraw some cash (my card's batting around .500 at ATMs now) with my non-refundable train pass in my cool black book and set it down on top of the ATM next to a half-empty cup of beer someone left from last nights street festival and kept right on going down the street. About 6 blocks later I remembered the book, turned on a dime and sprinted back to the bank, jaywalking/running all over the place (which is definitely a faux-pass in Hungary). It was still there and so was the old beer.
My nervousness from these bouts of stupidity and poor luck were calmed by Budapest, the friendly fellow travelers in my hostel and my central European-savvy friends from Prague, Jordan and Becky.
As soon as I got to my hostel, I sat down at a table with a bunch of Canadian, Australian and British backpackers. I was visibly frayed (their words, not mine) and they assured me that their debit cards were all working and convinced me to come to dinner with them. I was running on fumes from an overnight flight where I didn't sleep, but decided to avoid jetlag completely by hitting the streets of Pest, the section of the city to the east of the Danube River.
After some Hungarian goulash and a chicken sandwich (one step at a time with adventurous eating), we headed to what is known as the Ruin Pubs. Great atmosphere, great city, great crew. Every time I started to doze off and felt like heading back, I was convinced/pressured to plod on. It was an easy sell because I had no clue where I was and was having a great time when I was able to keep my eyes open. One of the bars we went to, Szimpla, is an instant classic. It had a great vibe and a very pub-nite feel. I took Becky and Jordan back the next night.
On Friday, I wandered around with some hostel-mates and broke in my new travel shoes, the New Balance 373s (sponsorship pending). Becky and Jordan arrived from Prague in the afternoon and with the help of Google, I was able to call their phone from the hostel computer and we met up for a great Hungarian dinner at Vorosmarty Ter, a main square in Pest close to the river. After dinner, we walked across the bridge to Buda's Castle Hill for some views of Budapest's nighttime skyline.
On Saturday, we went to the Turkish bath, Széchenyi, on the outskirts of the city. Very impressive architecture and a relaxing experience that was necessary to combat the lingering effects of a cramped overnight flight.
After the spa, we stumbled into the Hungarian National Gallop, held at Hero's Square. The Gallop was a huge annual horseracing event where towns across Hungary send a representative to compete for national honors. Great greasy fair food. I can still taste the garlic potato pancakes.
We continued our local experience by heading to Budapest's summer party hotspot, Margaret Island, for the season-ending party. The club we went to was incredible. I would try to compare it to something I've seen before but there's no way I could ever get into a place like it in the US. (Especially not unshaven and wearing my New Balances and shorts. Hopefully pictures will do it justice, but they still served $4 beers. We were very surprised to be the only non-Europeans and didn't hear anyone speak English the entire night.
Pictures to come. I didn't take many and am going to steal Becky's and claim them as my own.
Sam
I arrived yesterday by train and bid adieu to Jordan and Becky after a weekend in Budapest, Hungary. Budapest was incredible and a city I could have spent a week or five in. In three nights, however, I feel like I got a pretty good slice of the city, which is probably why I feel so tired and worry that I might be searching in vain for a relaxing night in this Tarrantino loving hostel.
Other than three close calls involving money and valuables, I loved my time in Budapest. When I got to Budapest on Thursday, I was rejected by all the ATMs and all the check cashing places declined both of my credit cards and had already spent my first emergency cash stash on pizza at the Amsterdam airport. I had a second emergency stash of 30 British Pounds that my grandmother Bebe sent me, which I wasn't planning to use until I got to England, but quickly exchanged for 7000 Hungarian forint. Sounds like a nice exchange rate, but kebabs are 700 forint. So I had gone through two emergency cash stashes before even entering the Budapest city limits.
I've got this black journal that sort of doubles as a folder. I feel very important and grown up carrying this thing around, but have twice proven that I'm not mature enough for a black book/folder. Before I even left Vermont, I lost the damn thing on the way to the airport. Dad/Chuck saved me that time for my free pass. Then today, o the way to make a train reservation, I stopped at an ATM to withdraw some cash (my card's batting around .500 at ATMs now) with my non-refundable train pass in my cool black book and set it down on top of the ATM next to a half-empty cup of beer someone left from last nights street festival and kept right on going down the street. About 6 blocks later I remembered the book, turned on a dime and sprinted back to the bank, jaywalking/running all over the place (which is definitely a faux-pass in Hungary). It was still there and so was the old beer.
My nervousness from these bouts of stupidity and poor luck were calmed by Budapest, the friendly fellow travelers in my hostel and my central European-savvy friends from Prague, Jordan and Becky.
As soon as I got to my hostel, I sat down at a table with a bunch of Canadian, Australian and British backpackers. I was visibly frayed (their words, not mine) and they assured me that their debit cards were all working and convinced me to come to dinner with them. I was running on fumes from an overnight flight where I didn't sleep, but decided to avoid jetlag completely by hitting the streets of Pest, the section of the city to the east of the Danube River.
After some Hungarian goulash and a chicken sandwich (one step at a time with adventurous eating), we headed to what is known as the Ruin Pubs. Great atmosphere, great city, great crew. Every time I started to doze off and felt like heading back, I was convinced/pressured to plod on. It was an easy sell because I had no clue where I was and was having a great time when I was able to keep my eyes open. One of the bars we went to, Szimpla, is an instant classic. It had a great vibe and a very pub-nite feel. I took Becky and Jordan back the next night.
On Friday, I wandered around with some hostel-mates and broke in my new travel shoes, the New Balance 373s (sponsorship pending). Becky and Jordan arrived from Prague in the afternoon and with the help of Google, I was able to call their phone from the hostel computer and we met up for a great Hungarian dinner at Vorosmarty Ter, a main square in Pest close to the river. After dinner, we walked across the bridge to Buda's Castle Hill for some views of Budapest's nighttime skyline.
On Saturday, we went to the Turkish bath, Széchenyi, on the outskirts of the city. Very impressive architecture and a relaxing experience that was necessary to combat the lingering effects of a cramped overnight flight.
After the spa, we stumbled into the Hungarian National Gallop, held at Hero's Square. The Gallop was a huge annual horseracing event where towns across Hungary send a representative to compete for national honors. Great greasy fair food. I can still taste the garlic potato pancakes.
We continued our local experience by heading to Budapest's summer party hotspot, Margaret Island, for the season-ending party. The club we went to was incredible. I would try to compare it to something I've seen before but there's no way I could ever get into a place like it in the US. (Especially not unshaven and wearing my New Balances and shorts. Hopefully pictures will do it justice, but they still served $4 beers. We were very surprised to be the only non-Europeans and didn't hear anyone speak English the entire night.
Pictures to come. I didn't take many and am going to steal Becky's and claim them as my own.
Sam
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Gametime
Tomorrow: Burlington-->JFK-->Amsterdam-->Budapest
This summer, I've read a couple hundred pages of my two massive guidebooks. I've also thumbed through another couple dozen at the Burlington Borders that I didn't buy (and they wonder why they're going out of business...). All of my friends who have studied abroad have endured my long-winded emails full of questions. Thanks for all the suggestions. I'll certainly heed many but reserve the right to make my own mistakes and learn some lessons the hard way.
I fly into Budapest and fly home from London 70 days later. I've come up with a general direction of central Europe-->north to Scandinavia-->southeast towards Paris-->ferry to Ireland-->UK. I don't intend to overplan and will likely freelance much of the trip. I've got the Eurail Global Pass so I have some freedom to make last-minute decisions. One possible itinerary I've worked out on Google Maps: LINK
I first blogged two summers ago when I drove cross-country with Matt, Matt and Danny. At first I thought it would just be a way to pass the time in the passenger seat and to send out signs of life to our parents over the internet, but found that chronicling my experiences for an audience (however small) was fun and occasionally caused me to think critically about the places we drove through. Two years removed, it's now fun to read through as a digital souvenir of the trip. If you're bored: http://brodtripthemovie.blogspot.com/
As you can see, the blog fell off around Las Vegas. This was not because what happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas, but because we were so tired from 10 days of driving that we crashed at midnight and were too ashamed to keep blogging. Hopefully that doesn't happen this time.
I've spent a couple days trying to come up with a blog title. This was the best I could do. For all the time I've spent reading travel books and looking at my friends' pictures of their abroad adventures, all I can really think of are the 3 euro kebabs I ate daily in Barcelona last fall break. Cheap, filling and available super-late: truly fine European cuisine. I'm sure in a couple weeks I'll be a little sick of street food and may hate this title, but I'll take that risk.
Gotta pack.
Sam
This summer, I've read a couple hundred pages of my two massive guidebooks. I've also thumbed through another couple dozen at the Burlington Borders that I didn't buy (and they wonder why they're going out of business...). All of my friends who have studied abroad have endured my long-winded emails full of questions. Thanks for all the suggestions. I'll certainly heed many but reserve the right to make my own mistakes and learn some lessons the hard way.
I fly into Budapest and fly home from London 70 days later. I've come up with a general direction of central Europe-->north to Scandinavia-->southeast towards Paris-->ferry to Ireland-->UK. I don't intend to overplan and will likely freelance much of the trip. I've got the Eurail Global Pass so I have some freedom to make last-minute decisions. One possible itinerary I've worked out on Google Maps: LINK
I first blogged two summers ago when I drove cross-country with Matt, Matt and Danny. At first I thought it would just be a way to pass the time in the passenger seat and to send out signs of life to our parents over the internet, but found that chronicling my experiences for an audience (however small) was fun and occasionally caused me to think critically about the places we drove through. Two years removed, it's now fun to read through as a digital souvenir of the trip. If you're bored: http://brodtripthemovie.blogspot.com/
As you can see, the blog fell off around Las Vegas. This was not because what happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas, but because we were so tired from 10 days of driving that we crashed at midnight and were too ashamed to keep blogging. Hopefully that doesn't happen this time.
I've spent a couple days trying to come up with a blog title. This was the best I could do. For all the time I've spent reading travel books and looking at my friends' pictures of their abroad adventures, all I can really think of are the 3 euro kebabs I ate daily in Barcelona last fall break. Cheap, filling and available super-late: truly fine European cuisine. I'm sure in a couple weeks I'll be a little sick of street food and may hate this title, but I'll take that risk.
Gotta pack.
Sam
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