Class Field Trip, Y'all!!!

Red Tarn at Helvellyn

So we went to some pubs and a club the week I got back from Amsterdam, but that and almost everything else I've done pales in comparison to our class trip to the Lake District and Scotland.  We left for the north right after class on Thursday with our questionable bus driver, Terry.  He's like a gnome that talks too much.  I feel like I can call him a gnome because he indirectly called himself that whilst trying to tell us a story of comedic nature to make us like him.  Anyways.

We left around 3:30 and arrived in Grasmere at 11:00 that night.  The bus ride wasn't terrible, though.  It was a tiny bus and we were all pretty squished, but I was sharing a seat with Lindsey so it wasn't awful.  Towards the end of the ride, the back of the bus started playing "Two Truths and a Lie" which was pretty fun.  I think the reason I loved this trip so much was because our group dynamic finally clicked into place.  It may have been March/April, almost three months into the program, but this was the moment I felt closest to my classmates and the moment I felt we truly came together as a group.

Our hotel, The Swan, was wonderfully comfortable and Lindsey and I ate complimentary cookies with our complimentary tea as we watched television.  I was almost too excited to fall asleep, for tomorrow was not only Dove Cottage, but a hike in the Lake District!

Wordsworth's terrace at Dove Cottage

After we toured Dove Cottage, we explored Wordsworth's backyard and sat on his terrace.  It's no wonder he did so much amazing poetry here.  The cottage is lovely and the terrace is even better.  The air is so fresh and the view amazing, plus the little town of Grasmere was the best!  It has the original Sarah Nelson's gingerbread (delicious), lots of nice little shops, families everywhere, adorable dogs, a daffodil garden dedicated to the Wordsworths, and a brilliant backdrop of fells (that's hills in Lake District talk).  No matter how much I loved it, though, I was practically shaking with impatience to get to Helvellyn.

 The bus ride was a short one, but we had to stop once or twice because the bus was overheating.  Casual.  It was fine by me, though, because we got to get out of the bus and breathe in the cold morning air and look at the mountainous hills surrounding us.  

before the vertical incline began

We finally made it to Helvellyn, the third highest peak in England.  At 3,117 feet above sea level, it's no Pike's Peak, but that didn't matter.  We had a three hour hike ahead of us and off we went!  Anna and I practically ran up the damn thing, and while the first hour and a half was easy going, we got to some stone "steps" that seemed to never end.  The hike went from a "stroll" to Anna and I gasping and stopping every once in a while and pumping each other up with "summer is coming! bikinis!" shouts and running five yards or so uphill before slowing to a trudge again.  We contemplated crawling every once in awhile, and we easily could have taken a long break to wait for the rest of the group to catch up, but we're both very stubborn and very competitive and just kept pushing each other over the next ridge, and the next, and the next until the lake of Red Tarn finally came into view.  We made it!  We promptly collapsed on the ground and waited fifteen minutes for everyone to catch up.

the survivors of the hike!  three people turned back

on my little rock island

After hanging out at Red Tarn a bit and dipping our feet in the FREEZING water, we set our sights further uphill.  Helvellyn has two edges, "arms" really that enclose Red Tarn.  On the left is Striding Edge, famous for being insane to climb up, and then on the right is Swirral Edge.  We were closer to Swirral and it looked like we could climb it and get back down in time to catch our bus to Edinburgh, so Anna and professor JB and I headed up the incline.  Only seven of us travelled up, as the others opted to stay away from the heights and sit at Red Tarn to wait for us.  The climb wasn't terrible difficult, but after sprinting up the first climb, it was a little difficult.  The view, though, was 100% worth it.

yay friends!

It was getting late by now and we were supposed to be back at the bus by 5:15.  Terry kept a strict schedule... so I, once again, sprinted down the mountain, only this time it was because JB thought it'd be funny if I could beat Anna down.  She had gone ahead with Katie to chat and I was kicking along by myself singing Sugarland in my head, but we got to the halfway-up mark where you can take our original path to get back to the coach park or go to the other fork, which is supposedly faster.  We arrived there and, seeing Anna and Katie already on the original path, JB sent me flying down the other one to try and beat them. I lost by a minute due to thinking I was lost and not having a head start, but it was fun.  I had my alone time where I didn't have to think about anything but "These Are the Days" lyrics floating through my head.  I'll be back here someday, that's for sure.

Swirral Edge

And Before You Know It, It's Plane Time Again!

The week after spring break was work-filled and a little fun-filled.  I had to get a few papers done before the weekend, because I was scheduled to get right back on a plane and go to Amsterdam!  First, though, a lovely pub night with Julia, Alexis, and Elaine.  Julia and I had planned on meeting Alexis at 7:30 or something to go to a new pub, the Cross Keys, but when she didn't show and we didn't hear from her, we set off on our own.  It was a nice pub with good decor, and I had a Pilsner in honor of the Czech.  It was a little crowded, though, and after a drink we set off to find another pub and go to the ATM for Julia.  And who did we run into on the way back?  Alexis, Meg, Elaine, and Anna on their way back from dinner.  Alexis was genuinely shocked to hear it was almost 9 and not almost 7:45 as she thought.  It was hysterical and even though she missed out on the Cross Keys, we convinced her and Elaine to join us for a pint at our favorite pub, the Princess Louise.  Many pints of amazing cider were had by all and we laughed and chatted and took stupid pictures until closing time.

Thursday morning I spent packing for Amsterdam.  Riana, Alexis, Meg and I left for the airport immediately after our theatre class and before we knew it, we were landing at the Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam.

We dropped our bags off and went to a nifty cafe not too far from out hostel for a drink before dinner.  I had a peach juice just for the hell of it, and it turned out to be the best peach juice in the world.  I wish I had written the name down, but I got two more before we left.  A random guy who said his name was Luke decided to sit with us for awhile and chat.  He was slightly creepy, but nonthreatening and we talked about books and television before he got the hint and left.  For dinner, we went next door to The Pancake Corner for burgers and delicious fries.  Amsterdam is known for their fries, after all.

The next day, the real fun began.  It was Heineken Factory Day!!

The Heineken Factory was probably one of the most fun tours I've been on.  It wasn't even an official tour, but more of a guided museum type thing with activities and games and interactive stuff along the way.

stirstirstir

We ground barley, tasted pre-yeasted beer, smelled hops, stirred things, took pictures, and even made a music video!

no autographs, please

We went on a "Be the Brew" ride, which was like a 4D video where you, the viewer, get brewed and bottled.  It was fun and after that it was beer time!  First, we got to taste the beer in a beer tasting setting.  Then it was on to the real beer drinking time where we traded in our two tokens for two beers!  Heineken is the coldest beer around, and after we drank our two beers, we escaped yet another creeper who had taken a shine to Alexis and ducked into a cute bakery around the corner that doubles as a bed and breakfast.

It was like something out of a fairytale!  

  

 Delicious cakes of all kinds!!!

Next time I go to Amsterdam, I know where I'm staying.  The people here were really nice and it was in a quieter part of town, an excellent location for a bed and breakfast!  After we had our yummy confections, we headed back to the hostel to drop off our Heineken paraphernalia and find our friends who were joining us from France today!

With Jenn, Katie, and Hilary now with us, it was off to walk around and explore.  Naturally we had to go take pictures at the "i amsterdam" sign!

Our real adventure of the day as a full group was going to an all-vegan restaurant.  Jenn found it online or something, so we set off to find the place.  Apparently you have to go at 6:00-ish to pay, but food isn't served until 7.  We found it down a little alley of graffiti and bike parts that led to a warehouse.  It didn't look like a restaurant, but we nervously went through the door and stood awkwardly in a hallway for a bit before starting to walk back to where we heard music playing.  Someone stopped us and asked what we were looking for.  When we said "De Peper," the girl laughed and pointed us to some heavy black doors behind her.  We went inside and were met with the sight of a large wooden bar in front of us, a large table and bean bags and couches to the left, and another large table with a DJ set and a loft with chairs above the set on the right.  It was a really cool little place and we went up to the counter to order or pay or whatever.  The guy told us it was a set menu and we could pay anywhere from 7 to 10 euro for the meal with drinks and dessert extra.  The restaurant began as a place for people who didn't make a lot of money to eat so they can pay whatever they can pay for their meal.  Touched, we all paid a full 10 euro.  Then we left and went across the street to a small bar/cafe for a drink.

The cafe was called "Vibes" and the drinks were pretty standard.  What was cool was all the food they kept bringing us!  At first, we thought these unasked for appetizers would appear on our bill, but we decided we didn't really care and were hungry and they tasted good.  That was after the first two plates.  Three other dishes later, we were more than a little worried about the bill, but when all we saw on the paper were our drink orders, we were just confused.  Was it recipe-testing day or something?  Oh well.  Our "compliments of the chef" food was much appreciated and we settled for a hefty tip.

alley at the warehouse

Back at De Peper, we sat down at a huge wooden table with a few bottles of wine.  The man at the bar said he didn't really remember the last time he sold so many bottles.  We started with leek and potato soup followed by a plate with broccoli salad, aubergine, lentils, tomato, couscous, and fennel.  It was SO good.  I was shocked at how much I enjoyed it since I'm such a carnivore.  We also went through three bottles of wine.  Most excellent.

delicious vegan meal!  whoda thunk?

Another day done, we went to bed to prepare for a day of sightseeing.  After a breakfast at Bagels and Beans (so good), we went to the Van Goh Museum!  It was amazing.  I loved Van Goh, but I think I almost liked the other artwork in there better.  Redon's "The Buddha" was my absolute favorite, but when I went home to google it, I found a bunch of different images, so here's the one I fell in love with.  I still loved most of what we saw, and Van Goh never fails to amaze me.  

everyone minus Jenn

After Van Goh, we wandered north to Sarah's Pancake House and then on to the Anne Frank House/Museum.  It was incredible.  I had chills on chills the whole time.  The pencil markings from Anne's mother measuring her and her sister are still on the wallpaper.  We talked about people, humanity, religion, and the Holocaust for the rest of our walk towards the Red Light District.  Those two seem like odd places to visit back to back, but we planned on needing something more uplifting/distracting after Anne Frank.  I'm not going to do details on the Red Light District, but I will say it's everything you'd imagine it to be, only a lot crazier and more in your face.  It just goes to show what a different culture Amsterdam has.

To Venice!

Julia and I spent the morning wandering the Florence markets one last time before heading to our hotel to pack and checkout.  What a difference in price!  In Poland and Prague, I was spending close to the equivalent of ten American dollars per night with the exchange rate.  Yes, those were hostels, but they were pretty nice hostels and our place in Krakow (the cheapest and nicest) was listed as a hotel!  Oh, Italia, how you wound my purse... oh well.  Spring break, right?

We arrived at the train station with plenty of time to spare and I spent those extra minutes writing postcards to my friends back home.  Even if I rarely hear from them, I try not to let that discourage me and my own correspondance.  We're all busy and some of us have an easier time of finding those extra seconds to write.

horses at San Marco!

On the train, I was happy to find myself in a window seat, though according to Mark Twain, the ride between Florence and Venice is more tunnel than Italian countryside.  He was right.  I quickly got bored and slightly sick of the quick transitions between dark tunnel and bright fields, so I took a nap instead.  When we got to Venice, we had to take the water transport, or vaporetto system.  It's like a bus, but on the Grand Canal.  We took the long 45 minute ride down towards San Marco and our hotel.  After dropping our bags off, it was straight to the Piazza San Marco to be touristy!

Naturally we had to climb up to the top of San Marco!  It was not nearly as strenuous as the Duomo, but the view wasn't as spectacular.  We couldn't go very high and there was a lot of construction in the Piazza in preparation for the upcoming tourist season, but it was still a good view of all the little tourists playing with pigeons below us.  We heard music coming from below where Caffe Florian was, so after going back down to the church and doing a quick circuit of that, we decided to celebrate the afternoon in style: wine at Cafe Florian!



Caffe Florian was established in 1720 and is the oldest coffee house in continuous operation.  I had never heard of it before sitting down at our table out in the sun, but Julia told me it was famous and a must-do, so there you go.  We knew it was going to be a bit pricey, but we were in Venice and were going to enjoy ourselves.  The sun was out and the day was warm, a big change for me who had been in Poland and the Czech Republic not too long ago.  With such gorgeous weather, there was no debate on sitting inside versus outside.  After settling into our nicely sunned seats, we ordered white wine and olives.  An insert in the menu told us that not only were cocktails around 17 euro, but the live music was not complimentary and an extra 6 euro would be on our bill.  Oh well.  It was good music.

our waiters wore tuxedos... 

loving the sun and the pinot!

After consuming our olives and wine, we set off in search of other things like gelato.  And who did we find along the way but Tom and Amy, two of our friends from the study group!  It was a lovely surprise and Tom led us all to "the best gelato in Venice," which was pretty damn good.  I had hazelnut and coconut and was in gelato heaven.  For dinner, we got a recommendation from our hotel for a pizza place a few yards away.  The pizza was delicious, but the service was, pardon my Italian, shit.  The host was a rather offputting and rude older man who enjoyed being difficult.  I asked for a glass of cabernet, but I was in the restroom when they brought our drinks out and all they had was merlot.  This wouldn't have been such a problem if it was just a glass, but they ALSO don't do glass by the wine and were out of the small bottles that give you a single serving.  So they tried to serve me a small bottle (not the smallest, but more like half a full bottle's worth, aka more than I wanted) of merlot.  I don't drink merlot.  It makes me sick and I really don't like it.  The problem with this now was that I was in the bathroom and so they went ahead and opened the bottle and poured it for me before I could look at it and refuse.  I got back to the table and tried to explain this to the host (who spoke good English, mind you), and he shook his head and told me "no, it's good, try it."  I again tried to tell him no, I can't drink merlot, but he wandered off.  So I tasted it and flinched and called him back over to tell him this simply wasn't acceptable and do you have the cabernet I asked for?  No?  Well, apologies, but I cannot drink this.  He looked a little miffed about it all, which is understandable since that was a waste of a bottle, but it was their fault and I couldn't even feel bad about it.  Paying the bill was a whole other can of shit worms.  He insisted they didn't have change when we tried to pay in cash and then said he couldn't take separate credit cards.  Lucky for him we managed to scrounge up exact change, but it was stupid and the pizza definitely wasn't worth his attitude or the trouble we went through.  Whatever.  We went to find more gelato.

The next day we visited the Doge's Palace!  It was gorgeous and my favorite was finding a Titian fresco tucked away in a staircase.  It was a beautiful work of St. Christopher in the Grand Canal.  We went over the Bridge of Sighs, sighed, explored the museum, some churches, and did more wandering.  I didn't like Venice as much as I loved Florence, but it was still a lovely city and very different from anything I had ever experienced.  Julia and I bought lots of souvenirs for our families, ate more gelato, and had delicious pasta for dinner.  What a good spring break!

I heart lions

Despite the week off from school, I was a little more than thrilled to be heading home again.  The week had been an exhausting one, but I found some new favorite places like Prague and Krakow and figured out what I wanted to do for my honeymoon: not Italy.  It was lovely and romantic and all that good stuff, but I'm a more adventurous type.  Taking naps and reading books in the late afternoon on vacation is nice, but I'd rather do that on a beach or do something more adventurous to end the day.  So, for my honeymoon since this is what I thought about while in Italy surrounded by couples, I decided I want to go somewhere I can read on the beach and play in the water sometimes but then turn around and go horseback riding through the surf or zipline through a jungle in the same day.  Nuff said.

Good morning, Firenze!

The day dawned sunny and beautiful!!!  Florence really is gorgeous.  Tour Guide Julia had a great day planned for us with the Duomo at priority #1!  We woke up earlyish to avoid waiting in line.  After a quick breakfast at the hotel, we walked the short distance to the Duomo to search for the entrance to the hike up.  After a very helpful man at the museum entrance advised us to get the paired ticket that gave us entrance to both the hike up and the museum, we found where we needed to go hidden by scaffolding and tarps and such.  The off season means everything is getting polished and renovated, which was semi-unfortunate for us, but the shorter lines made it worth it.  After purchasing our tickets, the climb began!!

we found the entrance!

The climb to the top of the Duomo is a grand 463 steps.  That's 463 dark, musty, spiral stone steps.  While that technically amounts to 15 stories if one assumes the average number of steps in a flight is 30, these steps were spiral and steep.  I'm inclined to say we climbed 1500 stories, but that's probably a little bit of an exaggeration, so instead I'll leave you with the image of Julia and I climbing a 20 story building of spiral stairs.  It was a wee bit exhausting and I am not ashamed to say I was sweating by the time we reached the top.  It may have been March and the morning may have been slightly chilly, but it got warmer as we climbed and I was glad I had a tanktop on under my sweater.  I couldn't imagine doing that climb in my jacket.  Too hot.

Hi, Julia!

The stairs never seemed to end.  And, personally, I despise spiral stairs.  They're fine if they're the ones in my house.  It's one flight of nicely carpeted stairs and I can see where they end.  But in situations like the Duomo or St. Paul's in London, spiral staircases mean certain death.  They are steep and sometimes slippery and you can't see where they end.  It's a never ending death spiral of horror and complaints and "why did we do thissssss."  Our first week in London, we made the terrible rookie mistake of climbing the stairs out of the Russell Square tube station.  We didn't hear the warning or see the sign that says "do not climb except in emergencies.  There are 175 stairs and you will die if you try.  Do not be a stupid newbie.  Idiots."

Well, at least in this case we knew what we were getting ourselves into, right?

Death to Spirals

The stairs were completely worth it, though.  We got to the top just as the sun was breaking through the morning fog, creating an odd mist over the city.  It was hazy, but we could see everything.  In the distance, the Apennine Mountains peeked over the horizon at us.  They were cloaked in half blue sky, half orange sunrise.  The rest of the city beneath us was a lovely mosaic of stone and orange-tiled roofs.  We were very high up, and as I peeked over the edge down the sloping dome to the streets below, I was glad for guard rails and for not being scared of heights.  There was a really nice breeze up there though and it felt wonderful on our flushed faces.

view from the Duomo

After being obnoxious tourists and asking people to take our picture for us, Julia and I made the climb down the steps which was honestly worse than going up.  It was physically less strenuous, but tactically worse since the "tiny on one side, wide on the other" nature of spiral staircases make then difficult to navigate.  But we made it down and into the church to see the Duomo from the inside.  All of the decorations and statues and stuff aren't actually in the church, but it was still beautiful and I loved looking up at the dome.  It's hard to imagine how they accomplish such detail and beauty when painting it.

We wandered through the rest of the church before going out to the museum.  There were plenty of interesting things for us to look at there, like anorexic statues of Mary Magdalene and weird lions and tons of carved stone.  The stairs were a bit challenging to navigate after the Duomo, but I think we saw all that there was to see.  Unfortunately, the real Gates of Paradise were undergoing renovation and cleaning so we didn't get to see those.  Oh well.  I was getting a little art-ed out anyways.

We followed the Duomo Museum with the Uffizi Gallery.  I know I said I was getting art-ed out, but we weren't far and it was still early, so we had a good chance at not waiting until we were old at getting into the Uffizi.  It's notorious for long lines and guidebooks all recommend buying tickets in advance, but we chanced it and were rewarded entrance after twenty or so minutes of patiently waiting in line.

The gallery was huge and there was far too much to see.  We wandered the rooms, skimmed the corridors of sculptures, marveled at Botticelli and Caravaggio, Lippi, and Bellini.  I enjoyed it, but about halfway through my brain hit a wall with culture intake.  There really is only so much you can appreciate before your brain starts to reject everything you attempt to cram into it through your eyes.

After the museum, we went to eat lunch at a little placed called MaMMaMia in the Mercato Nuovo.  I had a delicious caprese salad and spaghetti with some sort of tomato cream sauce.  Delish.  Naturally the next stop was gelato.  But first, a quick wandering of the market right next to the trattoria.  There was so much leather and fun little trinkets like miniature David statues and snow globes.  We found a little gelato place not too far off.  #1 thing to know about gelato, besides the fact that it's delicious: if it's piled up nice and high, it may look prettier but it means the gelato is old.  The creamier, fresh, more wonderful stuff is not as pretty looking.  It sits low in the bins because it doesn't have silly ice crystals giving it the body of the piled stuff.  It tastes MUCH better.  I got some wonderful nutella and coconut gelato for only two euros.  We then dropped stuff off at our hotel room and set out in search of the Ponte Vecchio.  Diamonds and gold galore!  Bling like whoa.

Ponte Vecchio in the background

BLING

every window looks the sameeeee

The price tags on some of these things were absolutely ridiculous and I would love to know how many items they sell each day.  One?  Two?  No idea.  Though I did buy something... a nice little trinket for my grandmother.  No idea if my dad has passed it along yet, but if not, then this just ruined part of the surprise, but oh well!!  We took a nice slow walk up one side of the bridge and then came back on the other side to really see everything gold and silver and jeweled the bridge had to offer.  On our way out, I stopped in a gelato place to sample their blood orange gelato.  I had seen it on the way in and even though I had just had gelato, it looked too good to pass up.  The citrusy tang was just right for the warm afternoon.

Exhausted from our day of sight-seeing, Julia and I headed back to the hotel to rest and read before dinner that night.  My dad had given us a place to go and we were excited to find it and try it out.  The Osteria Antico Noe was down a little alley and a wee bit difficult to find, so we expected something non-touristy and authentically Italian.  We weren't disappointed.

The place was cute with tables outside as well as in.  The decor was fun and rustic and our waitress was great.  She spoke just enough English to give us some brilliant recommendations on food and wine.  I, of course, got another caprese salad to start while Julia had the bruschetta.  Everything was absolutely delicious and we had some lovely Chianti Classico to go with it.  For the main course, Julia had gnocchi and I had the special of the night, artichoke carbonara.  Carbonara usually isn't something I order in a restaurant, but the restaurant boasts specialties in anything with artichoke and it was our waitresses first recommendation, so I had to order it.  Delicious.

Caprese with amazing balsamic

Artichoke carbonara with freshly made pasta

Full of wonderful food and wine, we happily walked back towards our hotel, stopping for a cannoli on the way from a gelato stand that was still open.  We got back to our hotel and began packing for our trip to Venice.  I was going to miss our lovely hotel room.  We had been outsourced from the main hotel, but our room had a legitimate 16th century fresco on the ceiling and the man who worked at reception was a kindly old gentlemen with an excellent unibrow.  The beds were like sleeping on clouds and I slept so well each night.  Alas, it was time for the next adventure.  Venice, here we come!

Trains are crowded, Italians smell, and Florence is awesome

So the train was completely empty when it left Milan Malpensa with just me, but when we pulled into Milano Centrale, the WORLD entered the train!!!  I had been enjoying my table with me, myself, and I, but the seats around me filled up quite quickly and I scrambled to consolidate my stuff to my part of the table and put my shoes back on.  The woman across from me kept bumping my knees as she tried to arrange her bag at her feet, but that didn't bother me as much as the animated conversation she struck up with the guy sitting next to me for the next hour and fifteen minutes.  Do all these people know each other or what?  I assume it was the commuter crowd heading back to Firenze, but who knows.  They were chatting it up, exaggerated Italian hand gestures and all.  I turned the volume waaay up on my iPod and watched two episodes of Bones.

How do you go from this...

TO THIS!??!!?! (image shamelessly stolen from google)

From Krakow to Prague

We returned from Auschwitz in the mid/late afternoon with time to kill before our 9:00 night train to Prague.  After coffee and wandering, we grabbed our bags and headed to the train station to sit around until it was time to bored.  I have limited experience train-travelling, and while Lindsey is used to the New Jersey transit and such, an overnight train was something new to both of us and we were a little nervous.  I had a couchette reservation, but Lindsey had trouble with her ticket and simply had an open one.

After getting creeped on by a man from Chicago who REALLY wanted to talk, we escaped into a crowd of Japanese tourists to get to the train undetected by Chicago man.  We had said we were going to the bathroom but snuck out of the station door and around into another.  Not one of our finest moments, but whatever.  We got to the train and tried to board the same car, but the conductor sent Lindsey to the next car.  "See you in Prague," she said.  All of the sleeping cars were full.  I was the first into mine and thankfully had the bottom couchette.  There were three levels, so six people to a carriage.  I was soon joined by five Japanese boys, all of them very nice and very perplexed by my presence.  I think all of the other cars were exclusively their tour group, but I had somehow ended up among them.  They were wonderful, though, and I'd rather be with them than any other random creeps.

We all introduced ourselves and shared where we were going, where we were from, ages, etc.  They were 19-24, and very kind.  The language barrier was quite difficult, but we made do with charades and pictionary.  They even wanted to take a picture with me!  These loud, funny, hilarious Japanese boys who shared gummy bears with me... they were great travel companions.

view from my couchette

The Astronomical Clock!

My iPod lasted all nine hours of train and had plenty left on it for my flight to Milan the next day.  After an insane morning of difficulty finding our hostel, we struck out to find breakfast and the free morning tour the hostel referred us to.  We finally stumbled across the Old Town Square, a lovely part of Prague that was quite close to our hotel, but due to our extreme exhaustion and travel stupidity at 7am, we had completely missed it several times while looking for our hostel earlier that morning.  We ended up taking a picture of a map on the street to find what we wanted, but the trip from the hostel to Old Town Square was easy enough and Lindsey thankfully remembered which way we had to turn.  I would have ended up leading us back to the train station.  Oh well.  Point is, we found it!

The Astronomical Clock was just going off when we arrived and we got to watch the trumpeter playing atop it.  We cheered along with everyone else when he finished and waved before eating breakfast and finding the bright red umbrella that signalled the free walking tour we were looking for.

Our tour guide was a bubbly, energetic girl named Lauren who happened to be from Minnesota.  She had fallen in love with Prague while abroad in Italy and she moved to Prague after graduating.  It was her three year anniversary of living in Prague, and from how excited she was to teach us about Prague and its history (all the tour guides are unpaid at this company), I could really tell just how much she loved the city.  I had been unsure of how I felt when we arrived and even thought I didn't like Prague, but her enthusiasm made me love it, too.  She gave us a mini-history lesson of Prague before we set out to see the sights of the city!  We saw the Jewish quarter, the old buildings with new establishments inside, Bohemia Bagel (delicious!), and a reenactment of the story of the Virgin Mary and the thief at the Church of St. James.

Lindsey as the Virgin Mary statue

In the story, a thief tries to steal a beautiful jeweled necklace from the Virgin statue.  When he reaches out to it, she comes alive and grabs his arm, holding so tightly he can't escape.  The next morning, the priest returns to the church and sees the thief trapped by the statue.  To free him, the priest says "one of these arms must be cut off, and I would never do that to the Virgin Mary."  He cuts off the thief's arm and mummifies it, hanging it in the church to ward off any other thieves.  That was 400 years ago and you can still see the mummified forearm there today!  The church was closed for the lunch hour when we got there, but Lauren took us to a window where we could see the arm hanging from the ceiling just inside the entrance.  So cool.

castle in the background

After the tour, instead of joining the afternoon paid tour to the castle, Lindsey and I struck off on our own to see the Prague Castle.  We had already bought the Beer Tour tickets for the evening and were too tired to go through another three hour walking tour of the castle.  Lauren pointed us in the right direction and we went over a bridge and up to the impressive castle on its hill.  The castle has an incredible cathedral, but honestly Wawel is still my favorite, followed closely by Cardiff.  This castle was HUGE and felt like a whole other town within the city.  After all, it IS the biggest castle in the world according to the Guinness Book of World Records (oldest ancient castle).  During the Defenestrations of Prague (that's right, they made revolutions out of throwing people out windows), the Castle Tower was used as the launching point for the Protestants chucking Catholics out of windows.

Amazing cathedral in the middle of the castle grounds

statue at the cathedral

After seeing most of what the castle had to offer (the Crown Jewels took too much effort to locate), we headed back across the Charles Bridge to find our hostel again.  The Charles Bridge is lined with statues and monuments, each different, and though some were undergoing renovations, I liked looking at all the different statues we passed.  It created an interesting dichotomy with the vendors and cheap souvenir stands on the pedestrianized bridge.  I suppose that's pretty typical of all of tourist Europe now, but the proximity of old and venerated with cheap and commercialized was a little newer to me.

We finally made it home, exhausted and sore from walking all day.  I was thankful I brought my boots with me instead of flats.  Not only was it quite cold, but all that walking was deadly for flats.  Lindsey's feet were bleeding from hers by the end of the day.  Oye!  We showered and rested for a bit before heading back to Old Town Square for a quick dinner at the market stands and the beer tour, something I'd been looking forward to ever since buying our tickets at lunch.  Lauren had mentioned earlier that our guide was another American living in Prague, this time from none other than the great motherland of Texas.

We found the red umbrella once again, this time held by Amy from Austin, Texas.  She was a perfect piece of home and we chatted about Texas and other things while waiting for the rest of the group to show up from the castle tour.  Joined by eight other people, we set off for the first bar, a place called the Beer Museum.  Not a museum at all, the Beer Museum boasts thirty beers on tap as well as a plethora of bottled brews.  I ordered the Démon, a sweet amber lager with a caramel flavor.  I loved it.  Lindsey got the d'Este, a bittersweet, hoppy lager with more of a vanilla taste and herbal flavor.  It was equally wonderful, but my Démon definitely topped the charts on beers I've had while abroad, beaten only by the Cambrinus beer I had in Bruges.

Our companions were a funny crew who also got d'Este and Démon (those were what Amy suggested, after all), and a raspberry beer was thrown in there, too.  There was a rando from Ukraine/Toronto, a college graduate sister, Shana, visiting her abroad-in-Prague brother Zach, a guy from Knoxville, Tennessee doing a Euro-tour as part of college, and four Brits who were honestly the funniest, most amazing old people I've met so far.  They were all around 53 and two of them had known each other since childhood.  I don't know which connection that was, but Paul and Gill were married and then Bill and Heather were the other pair.  They had kids who lived with each other in a flat surprisingly near to my own flat, a point of hilarity throughout the night, especially when Paul half tried to get me to go find his son, Scott, when I got back to London.  Jokes.  Scott is 27.

The second bar we went to was home of the original Bud.  Yes, that's right, the American Budweiser is almost a lie.  Adolphus Busch (yes, of Anheuser-Busch) brought the recipe over to America in 1876, but something got lost in translation.  The original Bud I had in Prague was easily fifteen zillion times better than the bottled/canned stuff back in the US.  In Europe, American Budweiser is typically labelled as "Bud" while the original retains the name "Budweiser," referring to the superior Czech beer, Budweiser Budvar.  We got our beers with food, since this stop was supposed to also be dinner.  I had goulash and it was easily some of the best food I'd eaten these past few months.

The third stop was dedicated to Pilsner Urquell, the top selling lager in the country.  Which is saying a lot since the Czech Republic drinks the most alcohol per person in the universe.  I think the annual is something like 160 liters per person, and that "per person" counts the entire population, and since babies don't really get their drank on, we can assume that 160 liter statistic increases exponentially for those who actually drink.  That's a lot of alcohol.  In America, the numbers are close to 30 gallons for the average American, which is around 136 liters.  That's a pretty big difference considering how many beer bellies there are in America.  Anyways, Pilsner was quite good and I was really happy to find it on tap in London when I returned from spring break.  I'm on a quest to find Démon here, but that's not going too well.  At least Leffe is easy enough to find!

it's Pilsner time

By now, we were all pretty tipsy from our beers.  Amy said she likes having small groups like ours because we're all talkative best friend by the end of the night.  Things were certainly going that way!  I had thought Gill hilarious on the free walking tour earlier, and now she and her fellow Brits got more and more funny as time went on.  I loved talking to them and the others.  They travelled a lot and had great stories to share.  We moved onto the last bar of the night, the Iron Curtain, a communist-themed bar.  That might sound odd, but it was my favorite of the night.  This place had unpasteurized beer on tap, something Amy said we simply had to try.  It was called Velen, and I was a little skeptical since I don't like wheat beer to begin with (sorry, Blue Moon), but it was the thing to get here so I went for it.  Zero regrets.  It became another favorite and I even considered getting a second one, but settled for finishing Lindsey's for her.  Paul began to share stories from when he was a narcotics cop, undercover and everything, and about his upcoming trip to Mt. Everest.  Sorry, his second trip to Everest.  These people were so interesting and I was loving every minute of the beer tour.  Then it got even better!  How, do you ask?  Well, I'll tell you.  Eh hem.

When someone says "let's do shots!", you imagine drunk college students or really dumb high schoolers who think they're too cool for school, yeah?  Or businessmen after work on the prowl at bars in Camden, but that's a different story.  Point is, anyone over the age of 30 pushing shots of hard liquor is a little odd to imagine.  It's not like sipping vodka or whiskey on the rocks.  Yet here we were in the Iron Curtain when suddenly Paul decides we all need to do shots.  Not just any shots, though.  Absinthe shots.  "Flaming absinthe!" says Gill.  Okay, I think, this is funny.  A married 50+ year old couple wants us all to do flaming absinthe shots.  That's a bloody joke.  But no, they were completely serious.  "Yeah, I haven't done that in year!" says Heather.  Oh god they're serious... let's do it.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the infamous absinthe, it is extremely strong and will most definitely knock you backwards if you aren't prepared for it.  It ranges from 95-150 proof (up to 75% ABV), is green, and tastes like licorice.  People like Ernest Hemingway, Vincent van Goh, Aleister Crowley, and Oscar Wilde were all known absinthe drinkers.  It has a reputation like Sherlock and opium, but whatever, if the 50 year-olds want to do flaming shots of it, why the hell not.  So we loaded up our spoons with sugar, light them on fire, and stirred away before tossing our absinthe back.  Whoa buddy.

The Iron Curtain didn't just have absinthe, though.  They had some interesting concoctions like candy shots.  Shana had a snickers shot which actually tasted just like the candy bar.  I indulged in another shot with the older crowd, a little shooter that tasted just like Christmas.  Becherovka, I was told.  Obviously by the end of the night we were all best friends in our giggly inebriated states.

We left the Iron Curtain to return to Old Town Square.  Heather, Gill, Bill, and Paul all gave us hugs and kisses on the cheek with "let us know when you're around Dartford (or whatever place they live that starts with a D that's near London...".  Paul gave me his card, "in case you ever need help" since he was a cop and all.  Amy walked with Lindsey and I back to our hostel since it was on her way home, and with that, we headed to pack up our things and go to sleep.

Old Town Square at night is one of the most beautiful, lovely places in the world

The next morning, we woke up to get some last minute sight-seeing in before catching the bus to the airport.  Inspired by the Iron Curtain, we headed to the Communist Museum.  It was close and cheap and we had a flier from the Iron Curtain.  The museum was small, but it had cool exhibits and a lot of artifacts to look at and read about.  I enjoyed it immensely, especially all the propaganda from World War II that they had.  

After the Communist Museum, we caught the underground to the bus station to get to the airport.  It was surprisingly easy to navigate once we had instructions on what stop and what line to take from our hostel.  The guy at reception that morning was really helpful and wrote everything out for us and even told us exactly which buttons to push to get the proper ticket for what we needed.  Thank goodness. Prague ticket dispensers are really confusing if you don't know what's going on.  We arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare, perhaps too much for Lindsey.  You aren't allowed to go through security or check in until exactly two hours before your flight, and while I only had to wait around for thirty minutes or so to check in, poor Lindsey's flight to Paris wasn't until way later that night and she had a good four or six hours to kill while I jetted off to Italy.  I was sad to part ways with her, but we had been together travelling for quite a long time and I think we were ready for a break from each other.  That's just a fact of travel.  Even good friends get tired of each other after being exhausted and travel weary together for as long as we'd been.  So it was time for me to leave one friend and find another.  My flight to Milan was easy and I slept from before takeoff to landing.  I was so asleep that I had a mini heart attack when we landed; that's how shocked I was to suddenly bump along the runway.  Who knew it only took an hour to fly from Paris to Milan?

The train was a little more stressful.  There was next to nobody on the platform, and the train was supposed to leave at 6:30 but the door to my carriage wasn't open and I had no idea when I was allowed to get on.  With the minutes to departure ticking down, I asked a conductor when I could get on and he said 6:30.  He must have misunderstood, because that's when the train left, not when I needed to board.  Thank goodness my jitters got the better of me, because at 6:29 I pushed the "Open" button on the door and hopped on and one minute later, before I was even in my seat, the train pulled away from the platform.  Off to Florence I go!