Cathedrals, Canals, and Cliffs

Forget our travel to Berlin—the Munich to Milan leg takes the cake for most headache-inducing journey. Layover in Verona, where multiple delays pushed our train several hours late. When it finally showed up, everyone boarded, only to be booted off 10 minutes later. We had to buy replacement tickets because the only remaining trains were reservation-only, though when we got one it was mostly empty. Ah well!

We'd taken advantage of trusty McDonald's WiFi to shoot our hosts a message that we would be late, and they kindly waited up for us past 11:30. A pretty nice apartment with a variety of breakfast goodies included. Score!

First stop the next day in Milan was Sempione Park, a huge green space in the middle of the city on the grounds of which lie both the Peace Arch and the Sforza Castle, whose grounds we explored. Cool and gray but no rain, the brick building towered behind a deep "dead" moat, filled with grass and dozens of stray cats, whose handiwork we later saw in the form of shredded pigeon bits. Big round towers on the front corners, one large main tower, painted ceilings, and frescoes uncovered during renovation (and this is just on the exterior!).

Sforza Castle in Milan's Parco Sempione.

Cat whispering.

We moved  out the front of the castle, past a big fountain and on to the Brera district, the city growing fancier by the block. Milan overall struck me as stately, my first Italian city, nice apartments, some colorful, the ubiquitous wooden shutters, trailing vines or bursting greenery on balconies, and winding streets packed with upscale shopping, gelaterias, cafes and trattorias. Why doesn't the United States have so many butchers, or cheese shops, or wine stores, or bakeries? Everyone just buys everything at the supermarket.

Our destination was the Brera Picture Gallery, a medium sized museum up the stairs on the second floor of a marble building with a central courtyard. We felt some museum fatigue, exacerbated by the Medieval and Renaissance focus, but there were several wonderful pieces and a small contemporary section. De Cassis and Crinelli stuck in mind, and the Lamentation of Christ by Mantegna was unique.

Onward through a pretty square next to the Opera with a statue of Leondardo (whose infamous Last Supper we skipped as reservations for paltry 15 minute viewing slots must be made far in advance) and into the Piazza holding the Duomo of Milan, hurrying past the astounding building to get lunch first. Down a busy side street and into an enormous line for Luini's Panzerotti that stretched out across 1/2 the block in both directions. Everyone wanted the tasty panzerotti served here—doughy treats similar to calzones but smaller and deep fried. Cheap, delicious, and vanished all too quickly as we munched next to the Duomo.

The epic Duomo in Milan.

Insane line for panzerotti. Not pictured: the lady behind us who thought
standing awkwardly close would speed things up somehow.

Bull balls, worn down from countless
heels of tourists.

Toured around the massive white Gothic and intensely baroque sculpted church, heading inside to admire the equally detailed and realistic stained glass shining among towering thick pillars. An orchestra warmed up for a later performance in the center. Back outside and through the Palacia Emannuelle II, two long intersecting tunnels with a glass ceiling, tile floor, and many very high-end stores. One mosaic on the floor depicts a bull. You are supposed to spin three times on its balls (you read that right) for good luck.

Stopped for coffee—they do it right in Milan, cheap, fast and delicious. Then more wandering, a solid 1.5 hours way north to a skate shop that features a halfpipe and cinema inside, both of which were closed. Disappointed, we collected dinner supplies including ravioli from a homemade pasta shop, and headed home.

Bridge Hunting
Thankfully easy train voyage to Venice, the skies still gray and finally raining upon our arrival. We purchased "Rolling Venice" youth passes for a discounted 72 hour transit pass. Travel in Venice is unlike anywhere else as you must take water buses (or exorbitant taxis) from place to place. Steady but light rain added glistening beauty to an already impressive city. Surreal place with buildings bellying up against the canals, water lapping at the door. Gorgeous ancient architecture abounds, and exploration delights with little hidden altars, labyrinthine alleyways, dead end courtyards and bridges across the canals never where you need them to be.

Overpriced gondoliers ferry tourists in ornate gold-touched longboats. "Venice Victorious," proclaim winged statuettes crowning buildings, even as many crumble or decay, the high water ever threatening. Our hotel was on Lido, a long and skinny adjacent island known for its beaches (which the rain denied us). After checking in, the rain thankfully abated and we dived into the alleys. Past glowing storefronts and spotlit churches stark in the evening light. Up and down the Rialto Bridge lined with tourist shops selling clothes and the famous Carnivale masks. We ate at Orange near the University area, sampling the first of many Spritzes (a Spritz is a popular Italian aperitif beverage made with bitters, usually Campari or Aperol, mixed with soda water and prosecco).

Rialto Market.

The next day the rain was much steadier, luckily stopping later in the afternoon but first giving us the opportunity to see Venice in a flooded state. Started off visiting the half-empty Rialto Market where we grabbed berries, stopped in a cafe to dry off and down coffee, then found our way across a canal bridge to kick off our ongoing gelato addiction. Massive pedestrian traffic near St. Mark's Square was expected, but not like what we encountered. Turns out the whole piazza was flooded, with everyone without plastic booties forced to shuffle across on raised platforms helpfully installed by city workers.

Obsession starts here.

Queues on the boardwalks in flooded St. Mark's Square.

The Staircase of Gold.

We toured the Palazzo Ducali, with discount from the Rolling Venice cards, and discovered one of the coolest buildings to date. Large inner courtyard, half built in the 12 or 1300s, the other during the Renaissance. Huge staircase at the far end with statues of Mars and Neptune, a repeating motif for the ruling house of Venice. Inside up the Staircase of Gold, a foreshadowing of the ornate rooms waiting above, with the ceiling and walls covered in detailed gold-accented carvings. Upstairs was a lengthy series of huge rooms where the business of Venetian government was carried out. A series of power circles starting with the Doge, elected by the Senate and small council, supported by the Circle of 10, then Circle of 40, and smaller courts, all comprised of Venice nobility.

The rooms, and one in particular hosting Il Paradiso by Tintoretto (completed mostly by his son Domenico), were astounding. Alternately small and enormous (one room supposedly among the largest in Europe), opulent ceilings and wood paneled walls. Stuffed to the brim with frescoes and paintings from Venetian masters. Scenes of history, real and mythical. Also in the Palace were a display of arms and the Bridge of Sighs, which carried prisoners across the canal to the prisons. Some cells still had scratched graffiti from the 1600s.

After the tour we wandered around the square, now drained or nearly so, and into St. Mark's Basilica, the inner entrance still flooded. It was like entering Atlantis or something, with the ceilings covered in gold tile mosaics. Tour groups marched through the side-chapel marked "Prayer Only".

We visited Taverna del Campiello Remer for aperativo, a wonderful Italian pre-dinner where the cost of a beverage nets you access to a buffet usually made up of bread and pasta based dishes. They were closed when we stopped in, so we made our way down the street to a bar for a couple pre-drink-drinks. Back to Remer where we each had a single Spritz and proceeded to devour about five mini plates each. The owner finally conferred quietly with the bartender and the next time he passed our table dropped the bill with a smooth, "In case you forget." Definitely the nicest way to be kicked out of a restaurant for taking advantage of the buffet.

 

Back to the hotel after a bit of alley wandering, following the (sometimes hand-painted) signs pointing "Vaporetto --->" to the water bus, and up for an early voyage onwards to the other side of the country.

The Sixth of the Five Lands

Levanto is kind of good looking.

We were met in Levanto, the unofficial sixth town in the Cinque Terre, a region of five neighboring towns on the west coast of Italy, by our host, who drove us to the bed and breakfast a few minutes outside of town. A super nice room in a nearly empty place. Flopped on the huge bed to plan then walked into town, about twenty minutes surrounded by epic scenery. Alongside us a stream burbled past olive groves, citrus trees, and bamboo (who knew Italy had so much bamboo?). Tiny vineyards spread past rustic villas while one-seater pickup trucks puttered by. Small mountain peaks with small clusters of multicolored homes fingering their way across them, trees sticking up off the ridges like a mohawk.

In town we strolled along the beach and through the center a bit before inquiring at the tourist office about a pathway on the far end of the beach that led through several abandoned train tunnels. The pedestrian and bike path cut through the rocky cliffs along the shore, hazy light washing out of the far ends of the tunnels. At the far end, we found one of the many hiking trails of the region heading up over the cliffs under which we had just traversed. We headed up, the wooden railing leading us along, cliff dropping off ever higher to the right, accompanied by skittering lizards. Scrambling our way up a cliff past an area of private property, we found our way back to one of the tunnels and into Levanto.

Former train tunnel pathway in Levanto.

Wild boar tortelli from L'Articiocca.

We walked through the town a bit, stopping at the church just up the hill, then back for a pricey but extremely delicious dinner at L'Articiocca, among the best of the trip. Started off with prosecco and gattafin, the local specialty appetizer similar to fried ravioli and filled with veggies. They were dressed up at this restaurant with a boar ragu. The name translates to "happy cat" or "delicious cat" or something. Molly enjoyed sausage truffle risotto while I had wild boar tortelli (or boartelli and I called it) with chestnut sauce.

The breakfast portion of our B'n'B incuded fresh-squeezed orange juice, unlimited espresso pulls, bread, jam, nutella, foccacia (a suitable replacement for French baguettes, I suppose), and not one but two types of cake baked by the host's grandmother. Afterwards we walked back into town, through a street market and up, and up, and up, following signs for the trail to Monterosso, the northernmost of the Cinque Terre. About a two hour hike atop the cliffs beside the coast, not extremely difficult but sweat-inducing even in comfortable 65 degree sun. We ascended past villas, along open fields and handmade signs (though the official trail markings were frequent, clear and extensive—I would love to come back here to hike, mountain bike, and scuba dive). The rocky gravel trail led through woods and more terraced olive groves, extraordinary views.

Cinque Terra, Italy.

Mountain clouds encroach on homes
above Levanto.

Over Monterosso we could see all five towns wrapping out around a wide bay, many homes built right into the cliff, rocks awash in surfspray. A long descent down stairs left our legs feeling wobbly, so we stopped on a patio bar for carafes of wine and olives/peanuts before hopping the train back to Levanto, where we walked to the BnB and collected our massive bags. As it started to drop fat rain on our return walk, the father of our host happened by in his car and gave us a lift, despite the fact that we had already turned down the shuttle service as it cost a fee. He was very kind and refused our payment at the station. The kindness continued as we waited for our train, grabbing a drink at the bar and getting fed a plate of free pizza and foccacia with tip once again refused. You go, Levanto.

Apparently people don't like to buy tickets for this leg as we watched two different guys get the boot off the train. One was very upset that the conductor would even ask for his ticket. After a gaggle of students got on at Pisa and off again, the car quieted down and we coasted into Firenze, our home away from home.

Prost!

We were met by our host in Munich decked out (as was about 25% of the entire city) in full Oktoberfest regalia — leiderhosen of course, and a rosy cheeked countenance that hinted he had already been celebrating.

"Oh, you're early," he said, welcoming us into the strange office space that he appeared to be renting out during the Fest. We weren't early.

The place was our strangest AirBnB experience by far. As I said, it was located in an office, which was pretty much entirely empty. Two rooms with pads on the floor for sleeping and a couple random office chairs. One room, which would later be locked, where our host was working at a desk. And the kitchen, which was also locked later, counters and fridgetop, every available space, covered in top-shelf liquor from Havana Club to Johnny Walker to Vueve Cliquot. No explanation. No showers either but we only needed a place to stay for two nights, and this "apartment" was literally around the corner from the festivities.

Town hall in Marienplatz.

We dumped our stuff after securing our keys and headed off to explore the city a bit. We walked to Marienplatz and the surrounding pedestrian streets, a central shopping area and the major town square. We arrived in the square itself with perfect timing to see the 5:00 glockenspiel go off in the belltower, a show that only happens twice a day and we didn't plan to see. More wooden figures than in Prague, as well as playing four songs in total. Very ornate Gothic town hall building, a pretty church and central monument combining to make the platz a gorgeous square, the smell of candied nuts enticing in the crisp air.

Onward to a nice bakery chain called Kreutzhamm so Molly could try some original-style German baumkuchen (if you didn't know, she works at a bakery in Denver called Glaze Baum Cakes that makes the specialty treat, the only one in the United States, which requires a massive oven for the rotisserie construction). We had their version of baum bites, slices of cake coated in chocolate and picked up a vanilla glazed cake to go. We continued our strolling through the beautifully manicured Hofgarten to the English Garden (or Englischer Garten), a massive park larger than Central Park in NY, complete with pagoda, Acropilis-style structure, lakes, streams, huge lawns and many hidden beer gardens tucked among the trees. Equestrians, runners, frisbee players, bikers all mingling as the sun set. Molly insists that I include the detail that we encountered a man wearing a Colorado Rockies hat who spoke no English and was not from CO, despite my previous joke back in Paris that no one who wasn't from CO would bother to wear a Rockies hat.

Baumkuchen found at last!

We walked around the large lake, having covered only about 1/4 of the park, and headed back through a very swanky hood (one block had 8 - no exaggeration - identical blue Audi station wagons), past an archway and through the University neighborhood in search of dinner. We ended up walking all the way back to our neighborhood and choosing a neighborhood restaurant because they had an entire portion of the menu dedicated to schnitzel. Inexpensive but the TV was cranked for the soccer match. Had a preview of the next day's beer with a Paulaner Dunkel.

That wouldn't be the only preview of Oktoberfest shenanigans—when we got home, our beds were filled with passed out drunken Italians from the group in the next room. We hadn't been able to lock our door as the tipsy host was still cleaning that morning, and one of these Italians did not understand why he had to get out of this comfortable bed-made-of-foam-pads. Luckily our host showed up and encouraged them into the next room, the drunkest one doing a sort of backwards-somersault out and then coming back and diving back into bed, finally stumbling away after more cajoling from his friend.

Depressing Mornings Mean More Drinking Ahead

Up the next day pretty early to hop the U-Bahn to the S-Bahn into the 'burbs, destination Dachau Concentration Camp. Powerful experience to be in The Place Where Things Happened (maybe that's kind of a good summary of the trip all together), right up against the gaping mouths of the cremation ovens. Almost peaceful in the woods surrounding, the sun shining across the line of trees in the center of the grounds. Cut short our time in the museum portion as we had to get back to meet Max, Molly's friend from her Washington, DC program in 2008. Our meeting ground was the most famous in the city, the fish fountain back in Marienplatz. Max led us back towards the Oktoberfest, despite explaining he wasn't much of a fan and thought it to be an overblown festival.

Cross the moat, get shot.

Rows of trees in Dachau.

A bit more celebratory.

As we arrived, we could see his point, especially coming from a local view. Many people attend every day of the fest (what endurance) and get all dressed up (Max explained some of the finer style points), but it is mobbed, drunken, overwhelming, flashing, smelly, elbow-rubbing experience. The day turned from chilly to warm as we entered the packed early afternoon festival grounds. Max warned us it was a national holiday so we might not find a berth, but we squeezed into a table in the Paulaner beer garden and ordered drei liters. Massive mugs carried 10 at a time by the laboring waitresses. Trays stacked high with half chickens ushered through the throngs by security men blasting short whistle blasts to clear the way. The mood exuberant.

We chatted with Max and a bit with our neighbors, most of whom didn't speak English, and downed 3 liters a piece, with a huge pretzel to help settle things. Max had to take off to meet his girlfriend who was ill, so we moved on to the Hippodrome tent, famous for slightly cheaper beer and many young people, stopping for a schnitzel sandwich and bratwurst on the way. We ended up sitting by 5 blasted English/Scotsmen who were quite friendly and boisterous, all older which was funny considering the tent's reputation. Things get hazy from here on out, drinking one more liter and apparently convincing Molly to put a mug in her purse, though she took the smaller 1/2 liter one despite my attempts to take a giant one. At some point we made it home, getting popcorn and candied nuts on the way, and could not get the door open, sitting in the hallway laughing at ourselves and stuffing our faces, popcorn kernels flying.

Woke up with only minor hangovers and blearily made our way down the streets for bagels and coffee at a spot we'd seen the previous day, loading up and making it to the train station for our final border crossing into Italy.

Ahoj, Pivo, Dekuji

That would be "Hello, Beer, Thank You" in Czech, and the extent of our knowledge of the language. We only learn the most important words. 

We left Berlin on a rainy morning and boarded the very crowded train for Prague. We didn't have reservations so we walked the entire train looking for open seats and found two near each other and claimed them right away. I cannot emphasize enough how crowded this train was. While Joe had the pleasure of sitting next to an adorable cat named Sophie, I sat across from the living, breathing Cruella de Ville. The large Czech woman had an enormous suitcase that was in the seat I wanted to sit in, so she was forced to move it to the aisle, refusing to put it with the other luggage where it belonged. Any time someone passed by her very large and very in the way suitcase, she would huff and wipe it off as if it had become filthy from the shirt that was forced to brush up against it. She immediately took a disliking to me since I was the cause of her trouble and would give me death glares anytime I accidentally made eye contact with her. I usually enjoy the ability to fall asleep within ten minutes of being in any moving vehicle, but because I also tend to twitch as I fall asleep, I was terrified that I might kick la bruja and she would take an uppercut to my jaw (she was built like a tank). I sat for over two hours trying to be completely still and not throw up as she pulled out two tallboys from her suitcase and used them to chase an entire package of corned beef, popping the slices in her mouth like potato chips. This lady was the worst. Finally, over half the train exited at Dresden, allowing Joe and me to move to more comfortable (aka safe and Cruella-free) seats.

On the train, we spoke with a guy named Tomas from Mexico who had been traveling around the world alone for 18 months. He even liked a place he visited so much that at the end of his travels, he intends to move there permanently. We walked with him to our apartment, the Winston Churchill Residence, and showed him where two hostels were just around the corner (globe trotting without an iPhone!) and made plans to meet up at the same spot in a few hours to go get beers. Joe, who has been desperate to meet friends throughout our trip, was excited at the prospect of talking to someone other than me for more than five minutes. We dropped our bags and headed to the nearest grocery store to pick up some essentials and figure out the currency. The exchange rate is roughly 25:1 on the Euro, so we were forced to do a lot more math in Prague than either of us anticipated or desired. The good news, however, is that Prague is a pretty cheap city as far as food and drinks go, so as long as we could calculate that a beer was less than €2, we did fine. We ate the sandwiches that we had made at our breakfast buffet in Berlin and went to meet Tomas, who never showed. I was taking the rejection pretty hard (why would he just abandon us like that??), so we thought it was best to go grab a beer or two at a bar and then head to bed.

We're rich!

Pivo kaleidoscope

The next morning we walked to Bohemia Bagel, a place I had read about online that served brunch on the weekends. In serious brunch withdrawal, we walked to the Holesovice neighborhood and ordered a feast of pigs in a blanket and huevos rancheros and bagels, flanked by coffee and mimosas. The menu directly across from us on the wall said that coffee and mimosas were included in the brunch meal, so I naturally asked the waiter when our bill arrived and we had been charged extra for the mimosas. He incredulously told me that they were not included and asked how I thought they would be free. Umm, your menu, actually...I wasn't about to pick a fight and I was mostly just curious, figuring there was some exception or explanation. But nope. The brunch was okay but I would not recommend the place to anyone since it turned out to be not as good of a deal as their own website advertises (1.5L of mimosa also prominently featured on said website but waitstaff told me there was no such thing).

With bellies full, we made our way to the DOX Gallery, a modern art gallery with a giant red rotating skull on the roof. We spent a decent amount of time going through the exhibits, which included one that had mathematical depictions of music and a dark room with sounds that changed depending on your orientation. Again, we were in between exhibits and the one they were setting up looked to be spectacular. Oh well. We headed to Old Town Square and made it just in time for the Astronomical Clock to strike the hour, when wooden statues lean out the windows and dance. The actual event is not impressive unless you consider when the clock was built in 1410 (which it seems many TripAdvisor commenters did not), making it the oldest still working astronomical clock in the world. After listening to some music in the square and watching a guy showcase his talent for the World Hacky Sack Championships, we walked to the Zizkov Television Tower where David Cerny had installed giant babies crawling on the structure. They were originally taken down like his other exhibits, but people enjoyed it so much that they requested the babies stay and the sculptures were permanently returned. Armed with only a microwave at the apartment, I successfully made dinner while we watched our first football games of the season.

Astronomical Clock

Those babies are risk takers

Storming the Castle

The next morning, we stopped by the Architecture Week tent, where a local town was being featured each day, to watch a sword dancer and grab some free bites of food before we elbowed our way across the Charles Bridge and over to Mala Strana. Translated as Lesser Tower, Mala Strana is a very historic district in Prague where both nobility and the Bohemian lived in the Middle Ages. We took a slight detour to see the Lennon Wall, a portion of a block that is named after and dedicated to the great John Lennon, although it is mostly now just random graffiti with some Lennon quotes. From there we headed to the Wallenstein Palace, a Baroque building that houses the Czech Senate. It has a number of courtyards, where we saw four peacocks wandering through the gardens, and an eerie stucco decoration that featured hidden faces. After some strolling through the courtyards, we were on our way to the Prague Castle just up the hill. The Prague Castle is the largest ancient castle in the world and features an abundance of Gothic and Romanesque architecture among its five churches, four palaces, five great halls, two towers, and another handful of residences. The castle was home to centuries of kings and emperors since as early as the 9th century, having been destroyed and rebuilt various times over the years.

Our first stop in the castle was the Picture Gallery, where a small collection of paintings resided. Then we entered the St. Vitus Cathedral, a tall Gothic church that only barely resembled Notre Dame even though a couple next to us thought they might be confused between the two when they look at their pictures. The church had detailed mosaics and jagged stained glass windows, but the main feature was an ornate silver sculpture hanging from behind the pulpit, draped in red velvet. From there we visited the Old Royal Palace, where we snuck pictures when we weren't allowed to take them. Although I have complained about people doing this throughout the trip, the castle forced you to buy a permit to take pictures in addition to the price of your ticket, and then charged you for the bathroom, too. Even 7-11 lets you use the bathroom once you buy something. We spent a lot of time in "The Story of Prague Castle" exhibition, where the entire history is documented with plaques and posters and relics, including a replica of the Bohemian Crown Jewels that looks entirely fake. We walked through the Rosenberg Palace and visited Golden Lane, a group of houses where merchants lived and worked (including Kafka at one point), that still houses a collection of armor and weapons available for purchase (like a combo axe-rifle). We hadn't realized what time it was and were ushered out of the residences when the buildings started to close. We quickly found St. George's Basilica and had about five minutes to look around while the choir was finishing up rehearsal. We missed the towers due to time constraints but decided it probably wasn't worth a trip back the next day.

After a quick stop at Starbucks for caffeine and wifi, we trekked up to Petrin Park, a hilly area with its own funicular and a mini Eiffel Tower. We did our best Monty Python walks down the hill and crossed over an island, where a mini festival and concert was taking place. We stopped to look around and enjoy the artist's performance of "Sex Bomb" before continuing back to Old Town for a much anticipated dinner. Joe had discovered U Tri Ruzi, a brewery and restaurant, where we perused the beer list and menu of authentic Czech cuisine. We shared an appetizer of beer cheese with bread and sipped our beers while we selected our respective competitors in the dart championships taking place on TV, waiting anxiously for our food to arrive. I decided on duck with cherry sauce, green beans and herb potato croquettes, which was all delicious. The potatoes ended up being the standout but the dish was good as separate components as well as in one bite. Joe ordered the traditional pork knuckle, which was the size of a small child's head and came out on a cutting board instead of a plate, accompanied by three different sauces and a pickled vegetable salad. Joe was eating long after I had finished but eventually conquered the knuckle, leaving only a pile of extra fat behind. For the beers, we had five altogether including a red ale (decent and smooth), a hop ale (not very hoppy compared to American style ales), a dark lager (unique and great taste), a traditional lager (easy to drink), and an abbey ale (the best out of our sampling).

Pork knuckle in all its glory. Behind is my reasonably sized and still large plate of duck.

Making the NSA Look Legit

On our final day, we started at the Architecture Week tent again, but this time we were handed beer and handfuls of cookies. We danced to the band that was playing and posed for a picture taken by one of the town organizers (we may be on a tourism brochure one day!), before once again braving the Charles Bridge and to cross over to Mala Strana, this time en route to the KGB Museum. The term museum is not entirely accurate as it is run by just one Russian ex-pat who is enthusiastic about sharing his KGB knowledge and showing you his extensive collection of Soviet gear. While it was certainly entertaining, it was overpriced and the highlight of the visit was taking pictures with all of the weapons. The guide was also very particular about pictures so he would frequently take the camera from us in order to take a better photo and instruct us to pose certain ways. Pretty hilarious experience. It also made us wonder where he got all the "souvenirs."

The real deal

A natural with the axe

Looking over Prague from Vysehrad

After parting ways with the KGB, we walked a very long way to Vysehrad, a 10th century fort overlooking the river and the rest of Prague where the city's oldest surviving building stands. The grounds are large and we wandered around the cemetery and into the Church of St. Peter and St. Paul. From there we walked back to U Tri Ruzi so Joe could buy a glass since the store was closed when we were there for dinner, then did a quick tour around the Moser Glass Museum and Store. We bought Trdelnik, a specialty Czech cake that at first glance resembles baumkuchen (someone on the street actually called it that), but is more like biscuit dough wrapped around a spit and cooked until crispy and then covered in cinnamon sugar. After walking past a guy in a shark costume outside a massage place about a hundred times, I gave in and got a much needed foot massage while Joe waited patiently. I could probably use that every day, I decided. After mapping out the beer store we intended to go to and realizing it was way back by the Vysehrad, we went to a smaller one we had passed so Joe could pick up some Czech bottles to take with us. Then we headed back to the apartment where we made another microwave dinner and packed up for the next morning's train to Munich.

Holy Schnitzel

Note - Frankfurt coverage from Molly, Berlin from Joe, hence the multi-author viewpoints below.

The Best of the Wurst

After stuffing ourselves with breakfast in Interlaken, we were headed for our homeland. We found our apartment with relative ease and met our host, a sweet German lady who was actually Spanish, which made communicating much easier when her English and our German faltered. We dropped our stuff and walked to Berger Strasse, a mostly pedestrian street with tons of stores and restaurants, and passed through a park and fancy Chinese garden along the way. While looking for our already chosen dinner spot, I spotted a window front from across the street that was labeled The Donut People. Immediately interested, I then noticed a man standing out front holding a tray and realized that they were handing out donut samples. Major score. We each grabbed a sample and determined that we had to buy some for the next morning (I went with macchiato, Joe got cookies and cream).

In our donut excitement, we had passed the wurst stand we were looking for so we backtracked a bit to BestWurst, a locally renowned place with five varying levels of heat ranging from mild to expletive hot. I ordered a simple bratwurst and Joe ordered a double wurst combo with tier three heat, both with fries. The lady taking our order seemed concerned that an American was getting this and warned Joe to take it easy and to stop eating if his fingers or face felt numb. Just what you want to hear when getting dinner. I could smell the spice from across the table and Joe made it through the wurst unscathed, although there were a number of tears and nose blows to accompany the meal. Full of the best wurst (this oxymoron never gets old), we walked to the end of Berger Strasse to the Solzer beer garden that served apfelwein, a local drink that tastes basically like still cider. We ordered two bembels, small clay jugs that are specifically for serving apfelwein, and played card games until we were sufficiently tipsy for the walk home.

One spicy wurst.

We daydream about apfelwein bembels.

An original stop-motion puppet from
the Nightmare Before Christmas in the film museum.

The next morning, we ate our delicious donuts and took it easy for a bit as I had an apfelwein headache and needed a little extra time before we set out into the city. Our host graciously let us borrow her and her husband's bikes, which were perfect for cruising around bike friendly Frankfurt. We crossed the river and started the day at the Deutsches Filmmuseum, a small but extensive museum that chronicled the history of cinema from the beginning, ending in a well-edited sequence of famous movies that were organized by feature and subject (sound, lighting, costumes, cinematography, etc.).

From there, we biked over to the Museum fur Moderne Kunst contemporary art museum, where a famous Austrian artist was featured. Some of his stuff was really neat, although a lot of it was meant to be interactive and the museum was ironically very strict about not touching the works. In fact, my toe was accidentally over the line of an exhibit, which the museum authority pointed out sternly, so I moved back a step only to have him warn me again that I am not allowed to go past the line, which my foot was most definitely behind. The entire third floor was closed for the setup of an exhibit that looked like it would have been the best of all of them.

Frankfurt's modern skyline.

Joe on a stylish pink Bianchi.

We walked through the town and got a pretzel to snack on while we wandered by the mall, some very old churches, and castle remains. We got back on the bikes and rode to Gruneburgpark, Frankfurt's largest public park. We circled the botanic gardens a number of times before realizing that it was paid entry only and heading back to Gruneburgpark to walk through. We rode back through the city to the apartment, where Joe made chili for dinner and we lounged around making plans for our next destination: Berlin.

Ich Bin Ein Berliner

Arrived in Berlin after our most trying rail ride to date—a delayed train that finally arrived, only to stop for mechanical reasons about halfway to our destination, forcing us to wait for a transfer to a very busy train. Sat across from a nice mother and her very outgoing little girl though, rather talkative for 2 years old and making friends left and right. The Berlin Haufbanhof (main station) is huge, several levels of glass and metal housing many shops. On to the S-bahn, the overground train system, after purchasing a 72-Hour Berlin Welcome pass, very worthwhile investment discounting museums and covering our transport for the duration.

Got off at our stop near the zoo and after some typical wrong-way wandering found our way down a pretty upscale shopping district, past the old bombed out church that is currently undergoing renovation, through the misty rain to the Hotel Berlina. Checked in, dropped our stuff in the 4-bed room we had to ourselves, and out into the encroaching night to explore. We headed for Alexanderplatz, a main transport hub and home of the World Clock that even included Denver on its city list. Past a dude playing Led Zeppelin under an overpass and up the Fernsehturm or TV Tower, a large spire remnant of the soviet era and apparently run by the same company as the John Hancock building in Chicago. Super fast elevator up the 300 or so feet to a circular viewing platform, along the windows of which were descriptions of the neighborhoods below. A solid historical and contemporary overview of the cosmopolitan metropolis, although our nighttime view was mostly twinkling lights.

Some more nighttime wandering past another Poseidon fountain, the Dom (Cathedral), across bridges and Museum Island, where there was a massive construction site for a new modern art museum, down a ways to the Brandenburg Gate, perhaps the seminal Berlin landmark. Through the arches and a quick left past the US embassy to the Holocaust Memorial, a hundred or so monoliths of varying size set in brick rows. As you walk through, the ground dips and the stone columns rise, creating a disorienting and claustrophobic effect. Apparently it is controversial though, as the company who manufactures the anti-graffiti coating supplied the Nazis with chemicals during the war.

Brandenburg Tor.

The Bauhaus Archiv building is inspired by
the school's design philosphy.

Grabbed some beers and soup in a restaurant near our hotel, a nice warm-up in the rain then hit the hay, getting up the next day for a foggy, rainy market nearby. We had lunch plans but that didn't stop us from nomming on the free samples. Across the misty river to the Bauhaus Archiv, a museum dedicated to the legendary design school. Nerd heaven for us! The Bauhaus was founded in the '20s and dedicated themselves to designing beautiful and functional objects d'art and manufacturing, everything from furniture (they invented the steel-tube chair) to painting to photography to architecture, even a small theater group and weaving school. We were disappointed to be there in between two different typography exhibits, though, and there was almost no typography in the main exhibit.

Uptown to a great neighborhood for huge plate-sized amazing schnitzel at Osswald Restaurant. Paired with beer of course and oh so very delicious, served with potatoes and a small pickle-salad. Overstuffed, we hopped a tram to Hackeshir Markt, where we walked by a vaudeville theater and through a series of art-deco courtyards, through a market and back to Museum Island, where we hit the German History Museum. Way too much information for our allotted two hours, covering everything from the Germanic tribes in Roman times through the Holy Roman Empire to the Cold War. Very detailed historical overviews and many interesting objects and pieces of art.

Forced out at closing time, we headed down the street to the Dom, or Cathedral, a gorgeous marble interior behind the dark exterior with green copper domes, highly baroque. Reconstructed after an unexploded bomb fell through the roof during WWII. We climbed to the top and walked around the dome exterior with the sun setting, then descended to visit the crypts, one metal coffin clearly shredded by the shrapnel of the bombing. Back on the U-bahn to find a brewery called Brewbaker, located in a strip mall market of sorts which was closing as we entered, all the lights off save a chandelier or two in the restaurant corner. A decent IPA but no real hop bite (this is the norm for Euro-IPAs), a solid pilsner of course, and really good Berliner Weisse and Ginger Pilsner varieties. Weisse beer in Berlin is a weak sour beer usually flavored with syrup. A pianist busted out the entire Sleepless in Seattle soundtrack while we sipped our brews in the candlelight.

Best schnitzel ever from Osswald restaurant.

Berlin Cathedral.

The next day we started off by visiting the East Side Gallery, a large hunk of the Berlin Wall that is still intact and was covered in street art back in 1990 (and recently retouched by the original artists). A nicer day but still quite cold—probably because Berlin is further north than anywhere in the United States (except I guess Alaska). Lots of great street art all around the Kreuzberg neighborhood, including a giant astronaut all down the side of an apartment building.

On to the Jewish Museum, another incredible building by our old friend Daniel Libeskind who, if you recall, also did the Denver Art Museum and the Imperial War Museum, which we visited way back in Manchester! He is also the architect of One World Trade Center, by the way. Shining multi-angled metal, with seemingly random windows like claw tears. The metal will apparently oxidize with time. Descending to the bottom floor, there are three intersecting hallway axes, simulating the disorienting journey made by Jews fleeing Germany. Purposefully included "voids" of empty space are spread around the museum, powerful in their unheated blankness. Outside, the Garden of Exhile is a similar monolith grid to the Holocaust Memorial. The top floor held an overview of Jewish history from ancient to modern times, so the museum doesn't just focus on WWII.

Art on the East Side Gallery.

Jewish Meseum incredible architecture by Libeskind.

Stopped by the outside of Checkpoint Charlie, the Western transfer point in the Berlin Wall, then on to Topography of Terror, an outdoor and indoor timeline museum of the SS housed on the former grounds of their headquarters, showing how Hitler seized power and convinced the populace to follow him, with much help from Goebbels and co. We grabbed dinner supplies and had a middle-eastern-ish meal of naan-like bread, veggies with canned hummus, and leftover cheese and wurst from Switzerland. Then we headed out to find a laundromat and try and locate some streusel, or was it strudel? We didn't really know, and when we finally got some strudel, it wasn't what we were looking for, though it was still really delicious.

We paid for the hotel buffet the next day as it was a solid spread that we could both (A) max out on for breakfast and (B) make lunch sandwiches from, only stopping our food stealing when we figured someone would take notice and tell us it's a buffet, not a grocery. Back on the S-bahn, then a very crowded train trip to the Czech Republic!

Swiss Waterfalls: Better or Worse than Casa Bonita?

We faced a fairly epic travel day voyaging from the villa in Grasse to Geneva, arriving in the late afternoon without a real plan of how we would get from the station to the apartment. After some fumbling about at the station we hopped the very modern bus to our friend's place, where we fixed an easy dinner of salad and scrounged pasta, paired with wine and conversation, followed by ice cream while we watched The Constant Gardener.

The next day we headed out to explore. I found Geneva to be...nice. Extremely clean with new-looking buildings, even the historical ones. Beautiful though with the lake, river, and mountains surrounding. Feels like it lacks a distinct culture, although that's hard to judge from one day. Molly thought perhaps that was due to the international population residing there.

Future delegate right here.

Walked down the hill from the apartment past the Red Cross International Headquarters and Museum as well as the United Nations Headquarters (Molly was pumped). Spotting a tree-lined and fountain-spouting entranceway, we poked our heads in to find a ceramic museum, small and cool looking enough to warrant a lap. Back outside and down the hill to the Place des Nations, the center of which holds a giant brown chair sculpture with one leg blown off in support of landmine cleanup efforts worldwide. This plaza is used for demonstrations—indeed, while we were there we saw Syriad and Indian anti-child labor tents—and is fitted with waterjets built into the concrete to disperse unruly crowds.

Further on and into town past some very cool whimsical apartment buildings known as the Schtroumf buildings (the French word for Smurfs), and on to the main bridge in town, hung with flags for Peace Day. The lake meets the river here in the center of town, with an enormous Jet d'Eau in the middle, shooting water skyward at least 100 feet. Walked down the lake shore to a cool pier area were swimmers and cafe goers congregated, a tiny lighthouse at the end. Sailboats and a group of brave swimmers glided past in the chilly water.

At the Jet d'Eau.

Across the bridge and into a well-maintained park that held an impeccably manicured clock made entirely out of flowers and hedges, which gets redesigned every year. Then uphill to the historical center, a nice pedestrian area, where we stopped at a golden-gilded Russian-style synagogue and the Cathedral. Walked about inside and found it pretty austere compared to the Spanish decadence we had just seen, but there was one baroque room off to the side with impressive painted ceilings.

More wandering through the old town past cannons, golden tile murals laid out in the 1500s, down a long hill to a great medium-sized park where I defeated Molly thoroughly in giant checkers and we also checked out the Reformation memorial wall. We meandered our way back past the river and lake, insanely clear blue water especially for the middle of a city, and back to the apartment where we made a batch of sangria to enjoy with sandwiches and salad.

Victorious.

Surprise Festivals and the Top of Europe

Our next stop was Interlaken, a beyond-beautiful, like seriously what-is-this-place-head-scratching-gorgeous mountain region in the center of Switzerland. We pulled into the station late afternoon, on the East side of the town, which sits between two large alpine lakes nestled among large peaks. Got coffee next to the station as we waited for a bus to the hostel, a ride along the insanely blue lake and up thin winding roads, belching out a loud melodic horn blast as we ascended a particularly narrow stretch.

Our hostel was in Istelweld, a very tiny town about halfway around one of the two lakes. A nice but sparse room, the building fashioned log cabin style, with the added plus of our own private patio and the huge added plus of free kayaks to take out on the large lake! We checked in, dropped our bags and as soon as possible secured the double kayak for a quick paddle trip, out past a floating birdbox with nesting waterfowl, a large chateau-like gray mansion on a point jutting out into the water, and around a small wooded island. One of the prettiest places we've been—maybe ever.

Right outside our door.

Brought the boat in as the sun approached the edge of the peaks beyond the far rim of the lake. We ate previously assembled sandwiches on our patio, enjoying the crisp mountain air, lamenting only the lack of free towels. As dusk set in, we voyaged into town, about 50 houses scattered around the port and up into the foothills. A cute Swiss tourist town with a couple hotels and restaurants. Outside of one we discovered today was the day of Chasteilet, an annual festival when the cows are dressed in flowers and marched down out of the mountains. We had missed the flower cows, but we could still catch the party! Located the tents just uphill from town in a small lot past a rushing stream. Biergarten tables set up, brats frying, live polka music supplied by teenagers. What luck!

We got a hefty slice of classic black forest cake, served up by a little old lady who didn't speak a lick of english, and split a bottle of the local brew. Bought cheese made from the happy cows who had recently vacated the premises as well as some chiliwurst for later.

Beer and cake, the perfect combo, at the Chasteilet fest.

We were up pretty early the next day to munch our included tasty breakfast (pumped to find oatmeal with raisins on a chilly morning). Our destination: Jungfraujoch, one of the highest points in the Alps and in all of Europe. Despite the brief hiccup of forgetting our Eurail passes, which would have entitled us to a significant 25% discount on the ridiculously expensive rail tickets to the highest rail station on the continent, the voyage was excellent. A series of distinctly old-school trains carried us up in sections. After our first transfer, they were all cog-wheel trains, with large gear tracks int he center of the rails. Up and through resort towns and villages, wood homes and farmers' shacks dotting the hills, pine forest and gushing mountain streams complete with waterfalls. The final train mostly tunnelled under the peak to deliver us to the chilly underground station at the top, the stops in the bunker along the way revealing views of increasingly rocky and snowcovered landscape.

Jungfrau was packed with tourists and soon revealed why tickets were so expensive. Definitely a bit of a tourist trap but still unique and fun. The pamphlets informed us that, "for many visitors, this will be the first glimpse of ice and snow." The tour route through the tunnels included a projected show on angular walls depicting the scenery outside (we skipped it to go see it for ourselves), an observatory tower, sledding/ski mini-piste for extra charge, a silly lit-up room with twinkly plastic stars and a giant snowglobe model town, an ice palace with sculptures (actually cool), a painted wall with moving walkway, and an absurdly dramatic sculpture of the dude who had the idea for the railway in the first place that looked like he was rearing up out of snow while the floor vibrated as the music climaxed and little lasers drew out the rail map above his forehead (no joke).

Gorgeous ride up Jungfrau.

I didn't need all the showy bits, just wanted the snowy bits, which we did get to enjoy, taking a nice hour long walk about near the peak on steep and slippery snowpack with ice chasms appearing in the voids around the trail. Above us on the rock small pieces tumbled down along the face as the real climbers carefully stepped their way along the ridges, poles held out for support. It was surprisingly warm in the sunlight up here. Absolutely incredible views. After a little snack of Swiss chocolate bar, we caught the descending train, stopping at one station for a short hike up to a man-made lake. Past munching cows complete with huge cowbells and dipping our feet in a pond with bubbles coming up next to benches for footbathing.

As Swiss as it gets.

We took a different route down, through Lauterbrennan, a little town big on adventure sports in a valley that apparently has 72 waterfalls. Hiked through town to see one of them, the largest, with a path built up and behind it through a cave in the cliff. Molly got homesick for Casa Bonita, though she didn't practice her cliff diving off the 75 foot drop unfortunately. Got hot chocolate at a coffeeshop then back on the train to Interlaken, where we were dismayed to find pretty much everything closed and settled for ramen and beer at the mini grocery instead of proper cooking supplies. After munching on our patio, we crashed, getting up to have a more leisurely breakfast (stuffing our faces and making sandwiches to go, the true backpacker way) and head onward into Germany.