Tuesday, August 30, 2011

A day of museums, a night of ridiculous

Here's the most important thing to remember about Vienna on Sundays: it shuts down.

Museums and McDonald's are about the only things that are open. Which is halfway ok. And when the museums to be seen are the Belvedere and Mozarthaus, it makes up for the fact that a Royale with Cheese from McDonald's is still there to be had.

The Upper Belvedere is an amazing art museum in the former summer palace of Prince Eugene of Savoy, built after a successful campaign against the Serbians (can't argue with that). It has a good proportion of Austrian artists, including more Schiele and Klimt, which made us all happy, especially when considering what is perhaps Klimt's most famous painting, The Kiss:

After a pastries and coffee break, our little rag-tag group split off for some individualized Vienna-ization. Connor headed for the local churches, Wendy to the Freud Museum, and I was able to complete my pilgrimage to the Mozarthaus. This unassuming little building of flats houses the apartment that Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart rented from 1784 to 1787, during which time he wrote some of his most famous pieces, including "The Marriage of Figaro." Needless to say, I was dorking out. Bigtime.

I even bought a copy of the libretto from Don Giovanni. It was amazing. And when I found a postcard that advertised where Mozart's grave was, at the St. Marx Cemetery, I knew that I was on a Blues Brothersian "mission from God" to find his gravesite.

Unfortunately, the weather, winding roads, and a poor map all conspired to send me wandering around a most residential part of Vienna for 30 minutes before I returned to the Metro, soaked and succumbed to the fate of my unsuccessful mission. Such is how it goes. Time to head back to the hostel and do the laundry that I so desperately need to wash.

Vienna shuts down. Except for the best Chinese restaurant I've been to in quite some time. Wendy, who taught English in Shanghai for a year, said that we ate the most authentic Chinese meal she's had since she left China. I think that's high praise.

Vienna shuts down. Except for the hostel bar, the WomBar. And you'll have to excuse the pay-channel language, but the only way to describe Sunday night was a shit show. Here's the cast of characters:

Vaughn - named in homage to the character on NBC's hit show, Community. Dreadlocks, cargo shorts, steals sandals from girls in bar and then promptly holds them hostage.
Ransom = 1 kiss.
San FranCISco!!! - as soon as he found out we were from California, those words were all we could get out of him. Dancing fool. Going crazy and drops his drink and glass shatters all over floor. Staff does nothing to clean this up. Continues dancing. Slips and falls and in breaking his fall, gashes his hand open on the glass from his dropped drink. Goes to bathroom and returns with hand wrapped in paper towel. Continues dancing.
Serb - really doesn't have much to say to us once he finds out we're Americans.
The Pantsless Wonder - shows up into bar in boxer briefs. Friend has shorts. Doesn't bother to get shorts from friend. Just makes out with girl who he didn't seem to know 30 seconds before walking into bar (pantsless).
The Object of Affection - 30-ish woman being danced around by pretty much everyone else already mentioned. Several men are trying to spend some quality time with her. She's just there to have a drink and maybe dance a little bit.

Also of note, the WomBar is nothing even remotely close to a place to dance. Dancing is not the best idea there. It may go without saying that we just sat back, laughed, and played "Your Team." That is, until the blood splattered one of us and we decided that biohazardous materials were not worth the entertainment.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Old music and old Vienna

So when you hostel right across the street from the expansive Saturday flea market that the Naschmarket becomes, you start your first Vienna exploration day wandering the stalls. And when you find old piano sheet music of Chopin, Liszt, Strauss, and Beethoven, among others, for only € 1 apiece, you grab four of them in a mad dash of excitement.

Vienna is replete with museums. It's hard to throw a stone without hitting some old palatial building that has been turned into a museum (although that would probably result in a fine). We took the metro, which was quite nice, as far as metros go, to the Museumsquartier. Guess what they had there.


This would be the Leopold Museum. This museum has been set up to showcase the best and the brightest of Austrian artists, most notably Egon Schiele and Gustav Klimt. I'd heard of Klimt before, but that was as far as my knowledge of either of these artists goes. Both are fantastic artists of the highest caliber, and I would have to say that they add to an already impressive curriculum vitae that Austria has amassed when it comes to the arts. I was particularly taken by Klimt, but there was no let down when a Schiele would be next on the wall.

We thought we were going to be the artsy lucky ones, as there was another museum, the Kunsthalle, which was boasting a Salvador Dalí exhibit as well as a space exhibition. The Dalí was decent, especially sketches that he drew for a surrealist book. There were also some pieces by followers and disciples of his but nothing nearly as impressive as the man himself. The space exhibition definitely got off on the right foot. As we climbed the stairs, we could hear the strains of The Blue Danube and turned the corner to be greeted by a large projection of the scene from 2001: A Space Odyssey the song plays through, while the spaceship spins in Earth's orbit like a majestic metallic ballerina. Unfortunately, this was the best part of the exhibit. The rest was interesting at times, disappointing at others, and a bit odd in between.

But with two museums under our belts, we were famished. The prosciutto and cheese on baguette picnic that ensued right in front of the Hofburg Palace really fit the bill:

The rest of the evening provided a smidge more relaxation and reading. That night, I somehow managed to finish my 4th book of the trip. And I only brought 5. I've never underpacked on vacation books. But something about these afternoon relaxation sessions really let me plow through the printed word...

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Old markets and young faces

Well, Bratislava is a beautiful city. That we knew for sure. We also knew that there isn't a whole lot to do there, so it was a one-night stay.

So we threw the packs on our backs and headed to the train station, past the presidential palace and gardens,
intent on hoofing it to Vienna. We found our way back to the train station from whence we came not 20 hours prior. While waiting for our train to arrive, I did find a tasty little morsel that would become a staple for the trip, fried cheese. Imagine a mozzarella stick, but in the shape of a burger patty, on a bun with mayonnaise and ketchup, and you found my lunch for the day, as well as several meals later on in the trip.

Upon getting to Vienna, we quickly discovered that the Wombat's City Hostel in immense. It has the feel of a hotel to it, with a bar downstairs, 5 floors with hundreds of rooms, and tons of young travelers milling about.

Well, this was day 12 of the trip. We were all pretty wiped out and decided that, once again, that afternoon staple of our ramblings, the three-hour nap, was in order.

When we emerged from our haze, we stumbled upon the Naschmarkt for the first time.

It's a cool little outdoor market right outside the hostel, with tons of stalls with everything from fresh food to cheap sunglasses, soccer (sorry, football) unis to fine dining. We settled down for a nice meal at a Vietnamese restaurant, as the Naschmarkt is apparently in a fairly predominantly Asian neighborhood of Vienna. Some delicious phở later, we descended on the WomBar, the quaint little drinking establishment off the lobby of the hostel, for a free beer with a bunch of kids that seriously made us feel like the old crowd in town. No big deal. Drinking age is 16. Rock on, Vienna.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Bratislava joins the party

It's time to leave Budapest. Train departs for Bratislava, and we're on it. Heading to the land of the EU and quotes from EuroTrip. Full disclosure, I haven't seen the movie. But after traveling with two people who can basically quote the entire script from when they were in Bratislava, I feel like I know those scenes very well, at least.

We arrive at the Backpacker's Downtown Lounge, and after settling into our tiny 8-bed room, find ourselves at the bar with a complimentary shot of Borovička, an absolutely atrocious juniper berry liquor. But it is a very traditional Slovak drink. And after all, we were in Slovakia. And it was free. And it was a drink we would never indulge in again. Ever.


Our hostel was situated very close to the Old Town of Bratislava, but we did get some cool looks at the Bratislava Castle, overlooking the city from the hilltops:


Walking around Old Town was a little interesting at times. Connor commented that it was a bit of a "Disneyfied" eastern European city, which was pretty legit. However, there were a lot of very neat buildings to walk around amongst, some cheap panini to eat, and some winding roads to get lost on.


One of the plagues of the trip has been our inability to find the nightlife. We struck out in Budapest, were shot down in Belgrade. But Bratislava. This would be our town.


After all, they have a KGB bar where you can drink near authentic Communist-era propaganda and memorabilia. Thank you, Lonely Planet, for that find. Only problem being that the bar is not there. At all. Can't find it.


But bless our stars, at least Hacienda Mexicana is open. They even had Herradura Tequila for Wendy. And how do these lovely people take their tequila shots, you might ask? Well, with cinnamon and an orange slice, naturally.


Well, we missed the nightlife again in Bratislava. But at least our server was kind enough to teach us the Slovakian world for "thank you," which happens to be "dakujem." And then we promptly forgot it again.


It had become a bit of a running gag to butcher the words for Thank You in the other languages, when it was just the three of us. Of course, by running gag, I mean a joke I totally killed to the point where I had to stop because it was confusing us as to what the words really were.


But here's a primer:
Bosnia and Serbia
     Thank you to the natives: Hvala (pronounced va'-lah)
     Thank you from me: Valhalla
Hungary
     Thank you to the natives: Köszönöm (pronounced coh'-za-nome)
Thank you from me: Kosovo (or Cocomo)
Slovakia
Thank you to the natives: Dakujem (pronounced day-coo-yem)
Thank you from me: Dagobah


And we wonder why we Americans weren't always the most warmly received...

Thursday, August 11, 2011

A brief gaming interlude...

So the game is simple. It's called "Your Team." We've been playing it constantly for three weeks now, and deserves some sharing.

THE CONCEIT: It is the Apocalypse. (Zombie, Nuclear Winter, however you conceive the end times.) You and your group of friends have survived and now must scramble to make a living.

THE RULES: This is where it gets easy. You have a team with you that has survived the Apocalypse. The only stipulation is that your fellow survivors get to designate your team members. As you are walking past indubitable individuals, you lean over to your fellow survivors and inform them, This person is on "Your Team."

Simple enough, right?

It's a great game for people watching. You can play amongst friends, travel buddies, or people you meet at hostel bars. All the fun in the world.

To give you an idea, if you are reading this:


Meet your first teammate.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Day trips and trekking

Having consummately conquered both ends of Buda and Pest, we decided to take a train, a little day trip to Esztergom, a city cuddling up to the Slovakian border in northern Hungary.

Esztergom boasts the largest church in Hungary, the Esztergom Basilica. This serves as the seat of the Roman Catholic Church in Hungary, and is a truly magnificent structure.

We disembarked from the train and began the long trek up stairs and hillsides to get to a vista and view truly worth walking towards. The top of the hill gave us a wonderful view of the city of Esztergom, as well as a sight across the Danube into Slovakia (see ya tomorrow in Bratislava...).

We also got to step downstairs into the catacombs, which was worth the 200 florins just to cool off for a few minutes. They have many tombs down there, including the final resting place of Cardinal Jozsef Mindszenty, who strongly opposed the spread of communism in Hungary, to the point where he was tortured and received a life sentence, forced to live out much life after World War II in exile.

A train brought us back to Budapest, and back to the hostel for some more much-needed napping. I had things to do, but they were contingent on staying awake on the south end of dinner. I couldn't manage that, so the beard will have to be trimmed tomorrow.

We decided to have our "final meal" before going on the economic death sentence that is the Euro in Slovakia and Austria. Appetizers all around, including the best beef tartar you could ask for, and plenty of wine. We finally got around to trying the most famous red wine in Hungary, Bull's Blood. Turns out, it's delicious. And not blood. Or from a bull. Who knew?

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Sketches of Pest

So our Buda day was definitely a step-by-step run from place to place. While it was great, it was pretty tame and kosher. Perhaps we were all jazzed up and wasted energy from Belgrade and the overnight train to Budapest, but we were looking to spice it up on day 3 of Hungary.

And the weather wanted us to, as well. The sun was out; everything was lined up for a great day. And as cool as the place looked in general, seeing it in the sunshine was truly specatcular.

Our first stop was to Hősök tere, or Heroes' Square, abutting onto City Park. This astounding monument commemorated the rulers of the Austrian Empire, as it was built during that phase in Hungarian history. City Park was a beautiful green space, with pick-up soccer games (facetiously the Hungarian national team), statues of antiquity, and a large and beautiful Hungarian bath. Connor decided he'd be up for a swim while Wendy and I headed for the Palace of Fine Arts for the mummy exhibit.

This outstanding exhibition had four mummies in various states of unwrap, donated by a generous benefactor to a project that set about reconstructing the life and history of the four recovered ancient Egyptians. They even set about facial reconstruction of one of them using advanced CT scans and ideas of what people of that time and area looked like. Aside from the man's unfortunate overbite, seeing a mummy's face reconstructed was absolutely awesome.

The rest of the museum had an extensive art collection, including many pieces of religious medieval art. Now, this isn't my favorite style of art, despite its absolute technical perfection, so there wasn't too much that grabbed me. There was one thing that absolutely did grab me, and it was tucked into a corner in a side room, unnoticed by many, I'm sure. But this small sketch from Francisco de Goya, The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters, had me enthralled:

The mummies behind us, the stench of dirty socks ahead, we went back to the hostel for a much needed laundry session, reading and relaxing while the washer spun out the backpacking dirt.

It was time for some Curry Wurst, where they slather ketchup and curry powder on a bratwurst (delicious, whether or not that sounds tasty) and some cheap whiskey and drinkable beer before calling it a night.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Beautiful Buda and basking in baths

After a day of relaxing at the hostel, we decided that our second day in Budapest would be on the Buda side of things.

The Danube cuts through the city and splits it into two main sections, the hilly Buda side and the start of the plains on the Pest side (the two cities were combined into one in the late 1800s, if memory serves).

The hills are beautiful, and we climbed up to Buda Castle, which boasts some magnificent tiled roofs and gorgeous views across the river to Pest from Fisherman's Bastion and nearby Mattias Church, a beautiful church overlooking the Danube:

One of the best views was looking down towards the Parliament building, an absolutely outstanding building on the banks of the Danube. It was truly an awe-inspiring sight from the top of Buda Hill.

From there, we waltzed over to the nearby palace, within the walls of what amounts to a citadel on the hill. Another outstanding building. I really could go on and on about the beauty of the buildings we were visiting. Not enough can be said, but I don't want to sound trite and all that jazz, so just understand that they were all amazingly wonderful.

We stumbled across a nice little wine shop that was housed in the cellars of the palace, some of the wine cellars dating back to the 13th century. Needless to say, they were creepy as all get out. We were the only people we saw in the entire cellar museum, and for good reason. We couldn't get out of there fast enough. But we then had to taste the wine, of course. And I must say, Hungarian wine was delicious, all four we tried. There was a particular white, Darazsko Furmint by Tokajicum, that was exquisite. You won't find it anywhere in the States because they haven't started shipping there yet and don't exactly have a good wine marketing program going, according to our sommelier. But as soon as we get Hungarian wines out of Hungary, look out boys. Good stuff comin'.

From there, we trudged up and around to the Gellert Baths, a touristy but interesting Hungarian bath, dominated by some Turkish influences. We relaxed in some 36 and 38 degree Celsius pools (or about 96 and 100 degrees Fahrenheit). The aches and pains of hilly walks were certainly washed away and an immense sense of calm rested on the group and that was about all she wrote for the night.

After a long day of hiking, we were ready to relax the evening away. Calm, cool, and collected. Dinner, some drinks, and off to bed.

Friday, August 5, 2011

On time and on point in Budapest

Eastern European trains are a model of efficiency. When they say you arrive in Budapest at 5:04 am, you arrive in Budapest at 5:04 am.

So we are in a new city, the jewel of Hungary, home to 20% of its population. The train station, although a little shady-looking in the wee morning hours, seems not too shabby. We load our packs on our backs and set out for the Backpacker's Lounge, near the Oktogon. Our merry band has been reduced to 3, as Joe has parted ways on his journey to Budva, Montenegro, for some much-needed beach time. After some searching high and low, we find the hostel, as well as finding our welcoming committee, a very drunk traveler making the most of his stony doorstep nap, sawing some serious logs. Several attempts to ring the hostel proves that this is no 24 hour hostel, that we'll have some time to kill.

Thank God Budapest has thoroughly jumped on the American fast food bandwagon. Breakfast and coffee at McDonald's, followed by more buzzer rings at the hostel. Still, no dice. So Starbucks it is, for more caffeine and waiting. We finally rouse the front desk after 9 am and promptly deposit our bags before exploring the city a bit.

First stop, since the weather isn't especially resplendent, is the Terror House.


This amazingly stunning museum is a dedication to the Nazi occupation, the Russian occupation after World War II, and the atrocious things done at this building when it hosted the Arrow Cross Party, a group that perpetrated some serious horrors on the Hungarian people in the name of national socialism. It was a heavy exhibit, but very well done and well worth the break from the rain and clouds.

From there, we stumbled across St. Stephen's Basilica:
An absolutely gorgeous church. We waltzed in during Latin Mass and quickly decided that we needed to return and explore at a much less intrusive time, so we ducked out and headed back to the hostel.

We knew that naps were a necessity, as a sleeper train doesn't always provide the best sleep, even with pharmaceutical intervention (again, thank you Unisom). Napping the dreary afternoon away, we set out for a local eatery to fill our stomachs, and stumbled across a row of restaurants, with much to choose from. The place we descended upon did not disappoint. We even threw down for a taste of the local liquor, an amazingly strong and unsavory drink called Palinka which turned out stomachs and our faces away from a second round. Good thing the Passion Sor beer was delicious. We befriended a table of Brits next to us and carried on a lovely conversation until we were ushered out at closing time.

Tomorrow, we properly explore a beautiful city, with the hint that the sun might just join us.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Leaving on a midnight train to Budapest

Have you ever woken up in a foreign city, just pining to leave, and have to wait until the sleeper train departs at 9:35 pm and you have to wander this foreign city that hates you for hours on end hoping that it will end well?

Welcome to Belgrade.

Maybe my rendition of our full day in Belgrade was a bit, shall we say, diplomatic? Now, there were some good things, the best of which being the company we kept. Although we were loathed openly on our journey, bamboozled and shunned, we had a lot of fun. We didn't have a good time, but we had tons of fun.

But there was still more Belgrade to see. Overlooking the Danube, there is a beautiful city park with ruins from an old fortress, some interesting artwork, and a military museum (closed, unfortunately), but with plenty of tanks and artillery surrounding it for climbing and photographing.

And the bazaar in the park offered plenty of interesting merchandise, including a 500,000,000,000 dinar note (that's right, 500 billion), no longer in circulation, but on sale for bargain basement price of 300 dinar (or a shade over $4).

The day was pretty uneventful. We ended up killing time in the park, bench-sitting and people-watching, a definite favorite pastime of the group. And the people-watching in eastern Europe can beat all.

I decided it was time to endorse the local potato chip brand, Chipsy. How could you not? So for the train ride, I snagged a bag of "hot-dog flavoured flips" and another bag of bacon flavored deliciousness akin to pork rinds. Sounds gross, maybe, but don't judge. It's hard to purchase snack foods when you're options come in a variety of Cyrillic letters.

We got to the train station, and after a quick paid bathroom break (20 dinar), we boarded our train, found our compartment, and settled in for the night. Shortly after the train left the station, to not insignificant jubilation as we departed Belgrade, our ticket checker came and showed us how to properly gypsy-proof the door. Apparently locking the double locks won't keep out the theives and we were instructed to insert a metal rod through the locking mechanism to completely remove all possibility of anyone opening the door from the outside. The interesting part was when we were told that we wouldn't have to worry about thieves while we were still in Serbia. He specificially told us that it wouldn't be a problem until we crossed into Hungary, like the looters come out of the woodwork as soon as we cross the border. Another interesting slice of life in the Serbian nationalistic adventure.

A pill of Unisom later (which worked like magic), we all crashed majorly. In the haze of drug-induced sleep, someone came to our door and checked the passports. When he saw mine, he exclaimed "es kinder!" to our enjoyment. See, my passport is from when I was a shade shy of my 17th birthday, and it is an indictment of my babyface from those times. I look shockingly young and it always seems to get a chuckle out of whoever sees it.

But all that aside, we were on our way to Budapest, and couldn't be happier.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Shadiness and shades of gray in Belgra(y)de

Belgrade was ... interesting.

Rolling out of bed, we immediately wanted to throw some Monopoly money at breakfast. An American dollar will grab you about 70 dinar, so conversions began to take on new sense of math to accomplish.

Taking an improvised walking tour of the city, we were confronted with many beautiful examples of architecture, including the Hotel Moscow and several state buildings, but all in an extensive variety of the motley shades of gray. Also interesting was seeing several buildings that had obviously been bombed in the NATO attacks in 1999 in response to the conflict in Kosovo.

From there, we headed for the Tesla Museum, an outstanding exhibition of the genius of the most famous Serb who never actually seemed to have ever set foot in Belgrade, Nikola Tesla (as played by the incomparable David Bowie in The Prestige). The museum boasted a very cool exhibit, full of replicas of Tesla's original ground-breaking inventions in the field of physics and electricity, not to mention his ashes, as well as several famous pictures of him with his undeniable "bedroom eyes."
And if you need more proof of his genius, check out the Drunk History version of his life.

One of the most interesting aspects of the day was all that surrounding Serbia's attempts throughout the past couple decades to rule over all those around them, in a sense. After coming from Sarajevo and hearing the atrocities that the Serbs unleashed on that city, it was hard to come in with an open mind. We just kept walking around, looking at the natives, impossible to not think "I know what you did..."  We made a valiant effort and took our time to enjoy the city. We walked past the monument dedicated to the children killed by NATO aggression in 1999, which was in response to the horrific things the Serbs were perpetrating in Kosovo. I can understand backing your young and innocent. But it can be somewhat hard to grasp when there is a t-shirt in a bazaar with Ratko Mladic on it, who was recently arrested for war crimes, an arrest that the citizens of Belgrade rioted against. I know that everyone is indoctrinated into their national belief system, but I find it difficult to comprehend the possibility of rioting to protect the "good" name of a mass murderer. (But let's not bring the Native Americans into this, shall we?)

All that aside, Belgrade is supposed to be renowned for its nightlife. First up was perhaps one of the tastiest and most entertaining meals we've ever had. We found a spot called Little Bay situated in what looked like an old opera house. Recessed seating and opera booths above, it was truly a beautiful restaurant. And then the piano and violin duo came out and serenaded us with everything from "Habanera" from Carmen to "Cruella de Vil" from 101 Dalmatians. Insert the violinist sauntering around the restaurant and having a blast interacting with the crowd, and there was some very Marx Brothers about the entertainment that evening.

But the party barges were yet to come. This is supposed to be where it is at, when you hit up Belgrade. So we flagged a cab, hopped into his Alfa Romeo, and subsequently were completely bamboozled on our way to the barges. Sucker charged us something like $50 for the ride to a deserted club where we sipped our whiskey amongst good conversation until we realized no one else was coming. But we did have the good fortune of finding Belgrade's hottest new club, Blaywatch. We waltzed in, American as you can be, and were immediately the recipients of death stares to beat the band. The bouncer was giving Wendy quite the evil eye. They shoved us into the back corner table by the bathrooms and I got the nastiest looks I've ever gotten from pretty much everyone that passed. When Joe started dancing, the guy at the table next to us was motioning for the bouncer to forcibly remove us from the premises. So we took the hint and hit the bricks. Cue the cab ride back, which cost us all of $7.

Pizza and beer awaited us at our favorite pizzeria, but the torrential downpour that started and we ran through to return to the hostel was just a sucker punch of an exclamation point to the theme of the night, "Get the Americans out of our city!"

Tomorrow, we leave for Budapest. And we can't wait for that train to roll out of the station.