My sister visited me in early August along with her boyfriend, Eric, and and so for a week before my trip it was like I had another vacation, one where I was showing her and him around Japan and doing things with them. I had only one day in between when they left and when I would start my own trip to get myself ready, but wanting to have as much time as possible in Europe was important.
Carrying only a backpack that would serve me the entire trip, I left from Tokyo Narita Airport about midday to Kuala Lumpur flying on Malaysia Airlines since they were the cheapest. I arrived in that airport with about 4 hours of wait time till my next flight, just enough time to not want to chance going out to see a new city in a new country and then have to rush back for the next plane, but still become tired and hungry and pay for overpriced airport food. Yet another airport that is nicer than LAX was one of the things I discovered there, that and some laksa doesn't taste anything like the kinds I've had in the past was another (this would be what I tried in the airport food court).
Amsterdam
Amsterdam was the cheapest port of entry into Europe and having had a great time there in the past, I was looking forward to seeing it again. It'd been nine years since the last time I went (that time with Phil), and remembered seeing the Van Gogh Museum and smoking the weed they had out there. That time I had definitely been more about the partying; we smoked until we could barely navigate the streets and, wanting to see what the hip hop scene was like in another country, I remember going to a pretty mediocre club there as well. I also all but passed out in a cafe that time, a result of mixing way too many drugs at once (that night we'd both bought and tried out some mushrooms as well as drinking alcohol and smoking weed and later some really powerful hash with some English cats we met at a bar. This time around, however, I was on my own, and in no such mood to go so far overboard although it was a given that I was gonna smoke.
When I first arrived, it was early morning and the hostel wouldn't let me check in until 2PM. Their internet was also not yet hooked up in the lobby, so I went out and wandered the city which was only starting to wake up and get moving. Most of the cafes and restuaraunts were closed as well and, since I wanted to get my more serious business and sightseeing out the way before I got high, I headed first for the Anne Frank House. There was a line for the place before it even was open which was actually how I found the place since the map I'd taken was actually quite crappy. It took about 30 minutes to get in, so I mostly chatted with other people in line while waiting. The House itself had been turned into a museum a while back, but being that all the furniture had been removed, there wasn't really too much to see even though there was a good deal of information. Still, like many people I had read the diary when I was younger, and it was somewhat moving to be actually standing in the place where it had all happened.
I had up till that point been considering going to Germany, but deciding that it would be too far, too expensive and too much trouble to get there given what I already wanted to do, I in the end made train and hostel arrangements for Bruges (which was where I'd originally planned to go right after Amsterdam). I met some cool people at the hostel where I was staying: two girls, one from Ireland, the other from Australia, and a guy from Austria. Unfortunately, they were all leaving the following day, making the city little more than a stopover for them, though they did all say they'd be up for drinks at a bar that night. The Australian girl said she was good to go with me to a cafe and chat while I had a smoke, which was nice of her, considering at first I'd actually been concerned I might get too stoned and actually felt like I was asking her to babysit.
The first time I'd smoked in Amsterdam with Phil, he'd talked me in to doing something that probably wasn't the best way to start things off: he immediately asked the clerk what the strongest stuff they had was, bought it, rolled it into a joint and smoked it, which promptly knocked the both of us completely on our asses (he literally fell down going to the bathroom in that cafe) and gave me a quite an eskewed impression of how strong the stuff they had there was. This time around I'd been a little worried, being that I don't get high in Japan and would therefore not be used to it when I smoked, but in the end it all turned out to be nothing, as I had no trouble at all keeping my head this time round.
I chatted with the Australian girl a while and she even ended up smoking a bit too, even though she hadn't really intended to originally. After that she ended up going back to the hostel while I wandered the city a bit more, but really couldn't find too much interesting there that I hadn't already seen before. Friends had advised me to try and get out of Amsterdam and see more of the Netherlands outside the city, but being that I was staying in a hostel there I ended up just playing it safe and taking it easy there. Truth be told though, Amsterdam only had so much going for it, and since I'd been there once before, I really was ready to go after only a day.
I had drinks with the cats I'd met at the hostel earlier plus one newer arrival, a guy from Columbia, in a bar not too far from the hostel. He ended up being the only one not leaving the next day and also the only one who was also smoking and so he and I did so for a while longer after the others left and then walked from bar to bar afterwards too. I lost him somewhere along the way, but kept hopping from place to place smoking different types of weed they had. Finally got to try Blueberry, which some friends of mine back in Cali had smoked before since some had flowed through there once, but I'd never had a chance to try before. Also had Purple Haze and White Widow again the next day and they were both still great. I was smoking the Blueberry in a cafe and ran into a Japanese dude in there and talked with him a while. He was smoking Jack Herrer, which I'd heard had won the Cannibis Cup earlier and he let me try it too. Have to say it was better than the Blueberry I had, not sure quite how to describe it, but definitely a nicer high. My Japanese was a little better than his English so we mostly spoke that, but the higher the both of us got, the harder it became to communicate and eventually I had to leave anyways. f(^.^;)/
The next day I spent in Amsterdam was more or less uneventful. I went to a park and read a bit, considered going to a museum but didn't because I thought they were a bit over priced, and for the most part did the same as before which was just to hop from place to place trying out different stuff. I ate a brownie which strangely enough, I'd never had before. Definitely the same drug, but quite a different high having it that way. I left early morning the following day for Bruges in Belgium.
Bruges
I guess the first place I'd heard of Bruges was the movie "In Bruges" which was shot on location. As medieval towns go, I've heard it is extremely well preserved and would have to agree it certainly has kept the look and feel alive of how things once were all over Europe. That being said, I did also feel the place was a little small, and that it had also become slightly touristy too. It wasn't super crowded, but there were quite a lot of people there. I arrived in the early afternoon, and was able to see a little bit before things began closing at about 5:00. I should probably mention that both there and Amsterdam (and for that matter even Paris to a degree) the sun sets very late in the evening during the summer time (maybe 9:00 or 10:00). Even still, most of the attractions would shut down at about five which kind of sucked since it stayed light out until almost 11:00 and even if you wanted to do more, you couldn't.
The churches in the town were just amazing, though it would turn out I was in for much more when I went to France and Italy later. The cathedrals' art and architecture and their size and scale really got to me, especially when considering how much smaller and more modest the other buildings were by comparison. Guess you could tell who had all the money coming to them when things were built there.
The food there was quite nice as well. I ate dinner at the restaurant in the hostel which was good, traditional Belgium food with a beer from Belgium as well. I also had some sweets from a local bakery which were great. The country is known for its chocolate and I considered buying some as a souvenir for my friends and coworkers, but with over 2 weeks still to go on my travels I figured also that they might melt if I had to carry them around that long. I spent 2 nights in Bruges and found that more than enough time to see everything I really wanted to, which together with how slow paced Amsterdam had been gave me something of a strange starting impression of Europe and left me wondering how much there'd be to see in the other places I had planned. Would I have a lot of down time or be bored at them? If anything the opposite was true.
Paris
I'd given myself a full two days in Paris plus part of the night I arrived and the one I'd leave and had hoped it would be enough time. Turned out it wasn't. Part of the problem might've been that it rained both of the full days I had there which slowed me down a lot and left me a little reluctant to keep pushing onward to new places.
Coming in from Bruges by train, I stopped in the northern France city Lille which I would later learn was the hometown of my friend Roman who I'd visit later on the trip in Marseille and Aix en Provence. One of the girls from my hostel in Amsterdam had told us that traveling by train out of the Netherlands we'd never get searched or stopped in Belgium where laws and feeling toward marijuana are lax, but that once you entered France, it was a problem. Just that happened when I got off the train in Lille to transfer to another train to Paris. Three guards surrounded and stopped me and began questioning me.
"Parlez vous Francais? Do you speak French?" one of them asked.
"Uhh, no." I replied.
"English then? Yes?"
"Yeah"
"Where are you coming from?" he asked.
"Bruges" I said.
"You went through Amsterdam then?"
"Uhh yeah I went through there"
"You smoke marijuana there?"
"Umm... yeah I did" I replied after a pause.
"You bring any with you?" he asked.
"No, I smoked it all there."
"You sure?"
"... Yeah, I'm sure"
"That's good", he said "Because we're gonna search your bag now, and if I find anything then I won't be so mad and you can say it was a mistake or maybe that you forgot about it or something, but if you hadn't said that, I'd be really mad and you'd end up in a lot of trouble."
They took my passport (which I'm guessing they probably do to prevent people from running) and then went through my things and even unrolled some of my clothing and felt it to see if anything was hidden in there, but didn't find anything. The only thing close to a scare was when one of them found the empty little plastic joint container I had in there. He held it up and said, "You forget about this?"
"Oh yeah, actually I did" I said, "But I already finished that and just wanted to hold on to the container since maybe I could use it for something else." - which was the truth. At any rate they finished going through my things and finding nothing let me on my way. I had a quick look around at the area around the station but aside from a small cathedral there wasn't too much to see and with only an hour before my train to Paris left I didn't stray too far.
The sun was about set when I arrived and made my way by subway to my hostel. There was just enough time to climb the nearby hill and see the Sacre Coeur a very impressive basilica that was walking distance from the hostel. I met a couple of cool Australians at the hostel here as well, though neither was able to hang out for a day while I was there and Paris ended up being one of a few cities I spent most of my time alone in.
The following day it rained and without consulting a weather report or the clerk at the front desk, I decided to head straight to the Louvre hoping it would stop and that I could wait it out. Turned out it would rain the whole of that day and much of the next as well and so I didn't end up leaving the Louvre for quite a while, but then again I can spend a long time in a museum just reading things so it wasn't a waste or anything. I made my way to the Eiffel Tower as well and saw that too although the rain was really beginning to slow me down by that point.
The day after that I first headed to the Notre Dame Cathedral and ended up waiting over an hour in some really nasty rain just to get into the tower on the roof. The view was totally worth the wait, but the rain stopped just about the time I got up there which in the end left me unsure as to which I felt more, that it was a good thing I got a decent view without the damper of the rain or that I was being absolutely mocked by mother nature having to wait in the rain only for it to stop right before I went indoors. The inside of the cathedral was very impressive too. I wanted to see the catacombs next but when I got there found out they were closed that day. With what was left of the time I had, I went the the war museum and waited about 15 minutes to get in only for the final hour and save myself some money on the admission fee. Not being able to see more of that place was a shame too as I really like seeing the war museums of other countries, and European history in particular is very interesting to me. The last thing I checked out that day was Napoleon's tomb which was right next to the museum. On the way back I headed one more time to the Eiffel Tower which happened to be walking distance from there and got myself a better look at it.
My final day in Paris I had just a few hours to wander around before having to catch a bus to the airport and make my way to Marseille, and so I carried around my bag with me in order to make my way directly to the bus station and then the airport. I tried one final time to see the catacombs only to find the line so long it might just've been impossible even if I'd been willing to wait through it. I instead headed back to Notre Dame to check out the archeological dig and exhibition under the the square in front of it, which had been closed the day before when I went. It turned out to be really interesting as well, and worth the trip back. After that I headed to the airport and on to Marseille.
Marseille and Aix en Provence
It had been over two years since I'd seen my friend Roman, who used to live at Parkside House with me though we did still keep in touch to some degree via Facebook. He met me at the airport and we took a bus to nearby Aix en Provence where he was living, but very much in the process of moving back to Lille (as I mentioned earlier his hometown), making me really thankful that he was willing to take the time to show me around considering how busy he must've been about then.
Most of what I'd looked into doing was at Marseille since it was the area that had the airport though I'd soon learn that he didn't actually like going to that city very much and considered it to be dirty crowded, and its people rude. Pretty much all of Roman's other friends in Provence seemed to agree this too and really enjoyed lambasting it.
"You obviously have never been to Manhattan, LA, Shanghai, or Mumbai", I remember remarking. Honestly, Marseille wasn't that bad, but I supppose in the end they either really felt that way or perhaps they just sort of had a rivalry with the place since it was so close, kind of like the people in my hometown of San Diego who have similar feelings about LA.
For what is what worth though, Provence was cleaner, less crowded, and in its own way quieter than Marseille (Provence is more in the countryside, but has a lot more young people and therefore a lot of partying). Since it's a college town, the girls there were also much prettier, which was nice too. I ate dinner Roman and we caught up on old times over some beers and then drank with a few of his friends who were all getting out of work and school who drank with us and laughed and joked and trash-talked Marseille some more despite knowing I was going to go see it the next day and told them that by lowering my expectations all their dissing of Marseille was probably gonna make my experience there even better. It was a good night. And the next day was even better.
Roman's girlfriend said she'd like to come along and so her mother let Roman borrow their car and we were able to cruise around Marseille and Provence with much more freedom than would otherwise have been possible. In Marseille we checked out the basilica and the bay and castle overlooking it. And then we went to a restaurant and had lunch on the beach after looking at a monument they had to Africans who'd died in French wars. I remember being amazed by that monument and what it represented (a welcome to the people of African counties to immigrate) considering how narrow the perception of most americans is as to what being French means, when in reality they have been multicultural as we have for really just as long if not longer.
We checked out the Notre-Dame de la Garde, a really large basilica on a hill with great view of the city that was in the past used for prayers by the loved ones of the fishermen to pray for their safe passage on the seas.
After that we headed to a small but very beautiful inlet where people could lounge around on the rocks, swim in the water, and even jump in from cliffs, which was a lot fun. We also went for a quick hike around the area taking in the scenery as the sun slowly settled in the horizon.
My best experience with French dining also was that night as we went to a pretty nice place Roman knew about (fish stew with garlic mayonaise and cheese, roast duck in balsamic sauce, and frozen nougat with fruit bits). It was definitely the best thing I ate the entire trip, although admittedly also the most expensive. All things considered, I'd have to say that France had the priciest food of all the places I went to, but probably the best food as well, trumping even Italy, Belgium and England.
My final day there I had only a few short hours before having to catch my flight and so I went with Roman to the market and then caught a bus to the airport. Regretably, it would wind up being the only chance I got to meet up with an old friend on the trip and was without a doubt one of the best times I've while traveling.
My next destination would be Venice, and this point of the trip I also had made somewhat dodgy choices as to how I'd go about it all. Seeing as the flights from Paris to Venice had been really cheap, I'd booked it quickly, and actually out of order chronologically considering when I'd wanted to go where in planning things. Flights from Paris to Marseille were also very cheap and so I'd figured that the best way was simply to just return to Paris and then go on to Venice again by flight since trying to research trains on the internet had been something of a hassle, and didn't look to be too much cheaper or faster either. Unfortunately I soon discovered, the flights back in to Paris were actually much more expensive than those leaving it (I guess a lot more people want to fly in than out), and being that I'd already booked a flight from Paris to Venice first, I pretty much had no choice but to just eat it when it came to going back to Paris.
Fortunately, the flights were fast and on time and without an excessive amount of waiting and, better still the view out the window of the flight into Italy was just amazing and completely worth it. The flight took me over the Alps, beautiful and enveloped in clouds just as the sunset over the whole thing. It was great.
Venice
I arrived at the airport and didn't have to wait long for a shuttle bus that drove people over the bridge and into the floating city. Or sinking city I guess one could say since I've heard the water level has been steadily rising year after year. It amazes me that people could build such a thing as Venice, an entire city reclaimed from the ocean itself (I've heard the same words uttered about Amsterdam though the methods are completely different). I'd heard widely differing opinions about the place before coming. One was that it had a very romantic atmosphere and was great for couples (I'd always thought it'd nice to ride a gondola with a girl, but didn't bother to do so this trip since I was alone). The other opinions were that it was dirty, smelly, humid, and full of mosquitos due to all the water. The reality of it all, was somewhere in between.
I got to my hostel a bit late and decided to quickly head back out and have dinner before too many of the restaurants closed. I had some pizza at somewhat cheap place (cheap, at least compared to the rest of Venice, though after France the prices seemed reasonably lower) and got slapped with a seating charge that apparently a lot of places there use to try and get more customers in the door. Though I know it's kind of hard to go wrong with pizza, I've also got to be honest when I say that what I had out there in Italy wasn't exactly impressive. Again I didn't go anywhere upscale, but considering pizza is Italian food, I'd sort of been hoping that even the cheap places would make it pretty good, but... no such luck. I'm also aware that pizza varies a lot depending on what country you're in, that each place adjusts its food to the tastes of its locals, and that american pizza has become its own seperate kind of beast with Giant NY and Chicago Deepdish famous in their own rites, but even still Italian pizza was a bit of a let down and I honestly had much better luck with pastas and lasagnes.
I should mention that the youth hostel I stayed at was a very, very Youth hostel. It seemed that the people the owners had hired to run it were travelers themselves who liked to party and drink with the guests and kind of ran things haphazardly. There were three really long rooms with maybe ten beds in each, and very little privacy going on. When I got back, there was someone asleep in the bed they'd told me was mine when I arrived. Apparently they'd told the guy sleeping there that he could have that bed earlier that day. And two other guests had the same problem as me where their beds had been taken by someone else and they had to move to a different room. It was very loud as well, with a large main room and people almost always in it, talking, drinking, even till late at night. Hot in that place too, no air con and only one fan per room full sleepers. I stopped wearing a shirt to sleep while I was in Italy and ended up collecting a few mosquito bites on my back and shoulders and other places the little buggers don't normally get to. They did feed us though (a cheap, homemade pasta at 7:00 each evening) and it was cheap too, which was what had attracted me to it in the first place, gotta give em that much. That being said, the place was actually a lot of fun, and I had a blast drinking and chatting with the other travelers there the second night after I returned, but I'll get to that later.
The cathedrals in Bruges had really impressed me, the ones in France, even more, but when I got to Italy, man did those ever blow me away. We were talking about the place where the Renaisance started rather than one it spread too, and probably the last place where truly stunning architecture was made before industrialization and modernization began to make all our buildings look just about the same. I remember running into a lot of travelers on my trip before going to Italy who, same as me, were traveling Europe but had just come from the place and were heading northward, in essence going the opposite direction I was. Many had seemed underwhelmed by the cathedrals they were encountering in France and elsewhere and it was at this point I could really see why: seeing Italy first had sort of "ruined it" for them. Made me really glad I'd chosen to go through northern Europe first.
It might seem kind of ironic to say this, but Venice actually involves a lot of walking. With no buses or trains save the ones that arrive and leave the city, and only water taxis that were actually a bit pricey considering how small the place is, the foot is pretty much the way you get around.
The largest, most impressive building there is Saint Mark's Basilica which was free to get into, but had a line a mile long. In the end I decided to skip it since by that point, I'd decided to leave the next day for Trieste. The main square just outside it was also very impressive, and there was an old tower providing a view of the city from on high. I was surprised they'd also installed an elevator in it to take people up, but then again with how many people must roll through Venice it probably would've taken forever to wqait for everyone to climb that thing too. The view itself was good, although I'd also have to say that because the streets and canals were so narrow, you really couldn't see much other than the roofs of buildings from up there, and in that sense it pretty much did look like just a lot of other cities.
I met two other travelers at the tower, a younger guy and his dad, who were seeing the sights as well as visiting family they had in Italy, and so I hung out with them for a little while, heading to the military museum only to find it closed as well, before they had to head back to catch a train out and I ccontinued on to see the Basilica of Saint Peter of Castello. Finally, I doubled back the opposite way through town checking out places I saw along the way to Basilica of Santa Maria della Salute, a very impressive piece architecture that I really wish I'd headed towards earlier as it was already closed for the day by the time I made it there.
I made it back to the hostel in time for their free dinner, and had a chance to talk to some of the other travelers there. Met a pretty cool guy from Australia, a girl from Argentina, and two others from England who were friends. Knew I had to get up early the next day to catch a train to Trieste, but played a drinking game with everybody anyways (although it wasn't as if I could've slept through the noise of it all even if I'd wanted too). The guys running the hostel also joined in on the game, in fact, they pretty much were the ones who organized the thing when it came down to it. People just drunker and drunker and some time after 11:30 the better part of the procession took to the streets to head for a bar. I went along with them, but ducked out a bit early to get some rest. People were still drinking and partying back at the hostel, but by then I was so plastered and tired from all the walking I had no trouble crashing out.
The next morning my alarm went off about a quarter till seven and I stumbled out of bed shirtless into the living room to observe the wreckage last night's revelry: people passed out on the couches, who never made it back to the beds we had had so much confusion over, half-consumed food and drinks all over the tables, empty alcohol bottles and cans collecting in the corners, monuments universal to partiers the world over, man, it was like being back in college.
I showered and packed up and left before most anyone was even stirring and was off and asleep on a train to northern Italy in no time at all.
Trieste, Italy and Skocjan Caves in Slovenia
A while back when I was traveling through India, I'd met a very well-traveled family from Colorado who was doing the same and had really been around Europe as well as many other places. I'd asked them what the most impressive thing they'd seen was and their answer had surprised me a bit. They'd said that there was a cave complex in Slovenia not too far from Venice that had absolutely knocked them off their feet. Knowing I would head to Venice myself on this trip, I decided to put aside an extra couple days to try and make my way out there and see it for myself. Trieste was right on the border of Slovenia and I knew the caves themselves were a bit further out of the way, but getting to them would turn out to be a good deal more difficult than I orignially had thought.
I arrived at the hostel, checked in and was ready to go at about 12:30, and pleased with myself for getting up early that morning, giving myself plenty of time to do what I'd set out for. I was therefore very surprised when asking the guy at the hostel told me it might not be possible to see the caves that day. "It's kind of late already", he said. When I asked why just past noon could possibly be late considering the place closed at 5:00, he simply replied "Not many trains or buses go out that way." He was right about that. It turned out there were only two buses going from the main bus station, one pretty early in the morning, another I think in the afternoon that would've got me there too late to make it in before closing time. Turned out that you could take a free shuttle from Divaca, a little hamlet nearby the caves, and that some of the big major trains rolled through it to and from bigger cities in Slovenia and Trieste (but again those trains only stopped there a few times a day once every few hours). A place called Sezana on the Slovenia side was about the only convenient one on my way and I couldn't make the remaining train that day either.
Undaunted, I searched the web and found one travel forum where a guy said you could take a local bus to a small town called Brazovizza and then hike 7km to the caves. Since I like hikes, I thought to myself "That's nothing!" and headed out to take a bus to that town and then walk across the border.
Whether or not there actually is a 7km hiking trail from that town to the caves I'll never know, because there weren't any signs pointing the way near the bus stop, and no one in the town seemed to know either, and instead they all pointed me in the direction of Divaca saying only that it was far. I at first figured that this must've been what the website I'd seen was talking about. I walked and walked and walked until my feet began to really feel sore from long extertion. It wasn't a bad walk, the landscape was very beautiful, very scenic, but it was long. I'd long since walked across the border and could see the signs pointing me where I needed to go but realized soon that this was actually going to be a good deal longer than 7km. In fact, I'd say it was probably somewhere more in the neighborhood of 10-12km. It took a lot of time too, the place was very rural and without a car you really didn't get around a place like that.
By the time I finally made it to Divaca it was nearly 4:30 and the last shuttle, I found had left at 3:30. I considered walking the rest of the way but was very tired and though the signs pointed the way, they didn't say how far, and I could've been walking for another 7km for all I knew just to not make it in time anyways. It was pretty discouraging. And being as tired as I was, I thought about taking a taxi back, but apparently Divaca was so small it didn't have any cabs, the nearest were a 25 minute drive away, and if you called em to ask for a ride they'd charge you for that 25 minutes too. So with sore feet and bruised pride I began walking back the way I came.
Having nearly no pretext hide my sense of shame at this point I basically started hitchhiking back, I just wanted to get back as soon as possible. Fortunately, I was picked up almost immediately by two guys in a pick up truck who when they heard where I was headed said they could take me half way. Though neither spoke much English we could communicate at least a little, and I think they worked on one of the nearby ranches or something like that. When the road turned and split they dropped me off to go their own direction, and I continued back down the road and started hitchhiking again, this time being picked up by a guy driving a towncar heading all the way back to Brazovizza himself. He spoke even less English and between what little French I could remember, we had a lot more trouble getting across any kind of message to each other. Still it was nice to have people pick me up so quickly, and I was amazed at just how kind they were out there. Kind of makes me wonder if they get that sort of thing a lot. It took me over an hour and 15 minutes to walk to Divaca, the elapsed time hitchhiking back, just over 15 minutes. >.<; Why oh why didn't I just do that in the first place, or even when I just realized how long it was taking me? Oh well, hindsight's 20/20 I guess.
As if all that didn't sting enough, I found out when I got back to the bus station that evening that the following day even the morning bus wouldn't be going out because it was a special day. Hearing my plight, however, a guy and his wife who were also in the station told me that there was a sort of trolley like local cable car that could take me up the hill and then it was (only) a few kilometers walk to Sezana where I could catch a train (again which only came every couple hours) to Divaca. This really saved my ass since otherwise I might've had to either pay for an expensive taxi, extend my stay in Trieste by one more night, or leave emptyhanded. Great, I thought to myself, another long walk. This time round I'd start hitchhiking from the beginning if I had to. Turned out I didn't though. I walked into a hotel to ask if they had a shuttle or if cabs around there were cheap, and deciding instead to walk it, a hotel employee who overheard what I was planning to do offered me a ride across the border as far as Sezana where I could catch the train.
The wait in Sezana was a little long (I'd gotten there faster than I'd thought I might because of the ride). I met some guys from France, who like me, were backpacking around Europe and themselves headed to a beach in Slovenia. They were pretty cool. I suppose if I had to sum up the difficulties of getting to Skocjan from Trieste it'd be that while it isn't all that far, it's very rural and while there are a lot of little towns nearby, transportation between each is a bit of a pain if you lack your own vehicle.
I made it to Skocjan around midday and since I had about a half hour till the next tour, took the time to hike almost halfway around the gorge, which had some really nice views of a manse on top of a cliff. When the tour began we walked about 5-10 minutes from the visitors' center till we got to the entrance of the caves. It was cold inside; a damp sort of coldness that pretty much made a jacket of some kind available. Fortunately I'd brought one. I have to say that for all the trouble it was to get there, the caves were quite impressive. The ceilings over 100 meters high in some places. And there were really cool formations of stalagmites and stalagtites, occassionally in a sort of "curtain" form which gave parts of the caverns an ancient almost cathedral like look to them. There was a huge underground waterfall and river (which was what had carved the tunnels out of the stone in the first place). We also saw bats in some of the later parts of the caves.
The one thing that was a little bit of a let down was that we weren't allowed to take pictures, which sucked for me since I love taking pictures and this was one place I would've really liked to photograph. When I asked the tour guide why they had that rule she said people stopping to snap away slowed things down a lot (the tour was one and a half hours long, all walking), which I suppose I'm as guilty as anyone of, though rights to photos and people not paying attention also played parts in it I'm sure.
Met a pretty cool guy at the caves named Jesse who was from the Netherlands. He told me his work allowed him a lot of great chances to travel and he'd been to more coutries than even I had. At any rate, he had a rental car and gave me a lift back as far as the trolley which was really cool of him. I made it back to Trieste about 3:00 or so.
The first thing I did getting back was book passage to Rome. There was an overnight train open that night. Awesome. Transportation and accomadations both taken care of. I booked a hostel for Rome using the internet back at the hostel, bought a cheap pair of pretty lame jeans since I'd heard you had to wear long pants to get into the Vatican, and then asked the guy at the front desk of the hostel what there was to do in Trieste since I had several free hours in front of me.
Turned out there were actually a few things in Trieste worth seeing, but what caught my attention immediately was that there were two castles, and an old, ruined roman theatre there. Being that I hadn't been able to get to Germany to see the castles there, this caught my attention immediately. One of the two I'd passed on the train ride in, it was called Miramare (literally ocean-view) Castle and was a little ways from the central part of town. I put it on hold and decided to head towards the roman theater and the other castle since they were close to each other and walking distance from the hostel.
The roman theater I checked out was closed unfortunately, though you could still see it from the street. The other castle was called San Giusto, was pretty interesting, and had a nice view. I'd really wanted to see a castle that looked like a proper battle fortification though and had been in battle and not one that was simply a fancy dwelling for a noble, however, and San Giusto was a little more of the latter, unfortunately. But then again I think so was Miramare which I wasn't able to see since there just wasn't enough time to make it before it closed. Kind of a shame too, since Miramare looked like the nicer of the two both architecture and view-wise.
Almost everything was closed in Trieste that day and there wasn't too much to do. I spent quite a while on the bay and saw a really spectacular sunset there before having dinner and heading to the station to wait for my train.
Rome
Rome was by far the longest time I spent in one place on the whole trip, a result of it being my second to last destination and me having bought the ticket out in advance only to make slightly better time getting there than I'd planned for. Even still my time there was fairly short, and I spent more or less a full day getting out of the city as well to see Pompeii.
I arrived early morning and made my way by bus to the hostel, which was really close to the large station, Roma Termini. I decided more or less right away to book a train to Pompeii the following day to check it out. With the full day in front of me I decided to try and see the biggest things on the list first.
One really helpful thing Jesse had told me back in Slovenia regarding Rome was that you should go to the Forum before going to the Colosseum since they sold tickets for dual entry and the line at the Colosseum was really long while the one at the Forum was no wait at all. Probably saved me over 30 minutes.
The forum was amazing. It gets me how so much of such an ancient city could be preserved while a modern one sprouted up all around it. Judging by the way it appeared sunken under the main city's streets, I'd guess it was buried and excavated and only now being rebuilt. The colosseum was cool too, a lot to see within and a lot to read in what sort of served as a museum to it. I stayed in there for quite a long time and then, with what was left of my day made my way to the Vatican.
The front desk at the hostel I stayed at gave me another really good piece of advice regarding the Vatican. They told me that the line was really long in the morning since so people tended to go there early wanting to see it first, but that the line was basically gone by the early afternoon around 2:00 or so. They also said that the notorious dress code I'd heard so much about wasn't quite as strict as some people had made it out to be. Bare shoulders and shorts that went above the knees would get you kicked out by the "fashion police", but long shorts were fine. Man were they ever right. I showed up at about 3:30 and there was no line at all and even girls in dresses with bared shoulders were being let through by the now lax security.
St Peter's was without a doubt the most impressive cathedral I'd ever seen in my life. Ceilings of amphitheatrical heights, every inch of wall engraved or painted, and high windows letting the light shine through in thick, radiant beams through the dim interior giving the whole place this sort of hushed and holy, awe inspiring feel to it. Unfortunately, without realizing the way to the Sistine Chapel was through the Vatican Museum, I left afterwards, making a return trip necessary.
With what was left of my day I went to the Spanish Steps, saw the fountain there, and watched the sunset, and then walked to the Piazza del Popolo nearby. The last thing I saw that night before heading back to the hostel was the fountain at the Piazza del Republicca.
Back at the hostel itself, I met some other backpackers who were from Australia that were pretty cool, but sadly leaving the following day. Also met a couple of cool French girls who were traveling through too, and also leaving the next day. I stayed up a while chatting with one of them having a pretty cool conversation about nationalism in america, Japan, and France, 9/11 conspiracy theories and some other cool shit before having to cut it short and get some shut eye.
Pompeii
I've been to a lot of ruins in my time, especially in the last 5 years, but I really would have to say that Pompeii was about my best experience at any. I suppose part of this has to do with the fact that I knew more about the site and the culture and the circumstances which led to its demise than any others I've visited, but other than that what else is there? They're certainly not the largest or most spectacular I've seen (India and Egypt both have bigger and more elaborate), and their setting wasn't the most unique (the cliff dwellings of Mesa Verde were far more out there). I think perhaps more than anything else was the immensity of it all and how well preserved they are; you literally can wander the entirety of an ancient city that's been frozen in time.
Walking the streets there gives the most unique feeling imaginable, and unlike other ruins which seemed to remind me of how long they'd been abandoned or how no one now lived there, Pompeii seemed instead to reminding me that people once did. And I felt much more closely there what it might've been like to have lived there. So many of the little details of peoples' day to day lives are still there, the markets selling fish and meat and produce; the restaurants; the bath houses and brothels; the colossium and theater; the temples and public forums.
Equally interesting one could say was the way it all fell apart, sudden and violent by volcanic eruption. A lot of attention has been given to the way many died being buried in volcanic ash and ingenious way plaster was poured into the empty cavities containing bones to recreate a sort of cast or shell and giving us a glimpse as to what the person looked like when they perished. At first I was wondering if they would have many of these bodies lying about where they were found, but surprisingly saw only a few in certain houses. "Why not leave the bodies where they fell and thus keep things truly locked frozen in time?" I thought to myself. But after a while it hit me that see bodies lying around eveywhere might be a bit creepy, morbid too when I think about it. I can just see the little kids visiting with their families and begging to leave even faster "Mommy, I wanna go home. This place is scary" and so on...
I lost myself in history looking at things and reading what I could, and spent nearly five hours doing so. Probably could've stayed a bit longer, but it was starting to get late and I also wanted to get back at a somewhat decent time and it was a two hour train ride back to Rome plus the trains only went once every couple of hours.
Rome Revisited
I got back that evening and met the new arrivals to my room at the hostel. A group Australians (Adam, Renee, Josh, and Oliver) who were really cool and having arrived only that day to see mostly the same things I'd seen the day before were pretty much on the same page as me for sightseeing. I ended up spending the next day checking out Rome with them, while they went to see Pompeii the following one.
We checked out Trevi Fountain and the Church of Saint Ignazio which had a painted ceiling that was just incredible. After that was the Pantheon, an extremely old building that was remarkably well preserved, and once was a temple to the ancient Roman gods but was converted to a Christian church later. Interesting exchange with the guys too about religion and the landmarks it inspired. As non-believers, it's sometimes a bit unusual to be standing in the midst of something like the Pantheon (which both times I visited had choirs singing hymns the whole of the time I was in there), and yet it's not at all difficult to justify being there to appreciate it as a work of art or beauty. I don't know who wouldn't be impressed seeing things like the paintings, sculptures and decorations in those places, and to an ancient audience, I can only imagine, wanting to be a part of it would be only natural. Knowing what the whole of it actually entails, and the history of it all now, makes things a bit different for a more modern audience, but enjoying it for its craft alone is enough.
We made our way across through several other fountains, squares and churches to the Castel Sant'Angelo and finally on to the Vatican Museum. The museum itself was great, filled with tons of the most splendid art I'd seen, even compared to the Louvre. And like the Louvre as well, it seemed almost a shame actually that we had to go through it as quickly as we did considering just how much of it there was and the attention such quality could justifiably take.
The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel was yet another of those sights just astounding to see in person. The room itself was kept a bit dim I felt (probably to prevent fading) but nonetheless a vision to behold. Then came the ascent up to the top of St Peter's with an awesome view of the Vatican and a panorama of all the city.
What was left of the day was spent making reservations and plans for the ongoing trip and more or less eventless, but still was one of the most enjoyable I'd had, thanks in large part to those I'd hung out with.
I remember having an interesting conversation with the girl, Renee, about Australians and travel. It had struck me that I'd met an awful lot of Ozzies on the trip I was on (one in every city thus far I think except the south France portion which was short and spent entirely with Roman) and various others I'd been on as well. "I think Australians are pretty well traveled," I commented, "either that or a bit more adventurous than those of many other coutries."
"I don't know if I'd say that," was how she responded. "Many don't want to leave at all, but for those that do... I think that for all its size there isn't too much diversity in Oz and those with wanderlust tend to be quick to get out of the country and look around since you can see a lot of what Australia has to offer pretty quickly."
It got me thinking a bit about how other peoples from other countries did their traveling. I'd heard from the French guys I'd met in Slovenia that many in France traveled extensively because it was simply in their culture and the social system afforded them a lot of time off. Germans too, I heard, in general had a very long vacation time due to their tough work ethic and feelings that because they worked so hard they should play hard too. I don't know too much about any others but the Japanese, I've felt for quite a while, really don't spend enough time taking it easy. Americans have a habit of jumping in their cars and taking roadtrips since many are a little xenophobic and can at times be reluctant to go abroad, but also because such trips are faster and cheaper. That, and the US does have some incredible natural sights as well.
My final day in Rome was spent seeing what things I'd missed (like the monument Vittoria and the War Museum), shopping for souvenirs, and otherwise just relaxing since I felt I'd managed to see everything I'd really really wanted to the days before.
London
My flight to England was delayed, much to my dismay considering it was set to arrive quite late at night to begin with, and then once I arrived, I was upset to discover that the line getting through customs was a long, slow mess as well. By the time I finally got in, it was past one in the morning, and all the local trains and buses and stopped leaving me more or less stranded at the airport.
I'd really wanted to see my friend, Matt, who I'd met in Japan, but instead had the misfortunate of it being a holiday weekend I didn't know about, and found he couldn't meet since he'd already made plans to go out of the country with some of his friends. He let me stay with his family, however, which though I felt a little unusual about not knowing them and all, I also thought was not a good idea to turn it down since it took care of my accommadations and gave me someone to talk to who was local and knew their way around.
The only trouble was first getting to them. Having little in the way of change to use on payphones, and learning really quickly that you had almost no time at all to speak on one if you used it, I was able to do little more than make contact and then decide I'd have to spend the night sleeping on the airport floor before setting out the next day. Though a lot of others were camped out there in the terminal as well, it hard and uncomfortable on the floor. Worst of all, with a storm rolling through at the time, England turned out to be pretty cold actually comparing to the heat I'd just come out of in Rome and especially what I'd been used to before the trip in Tokyo.
The next morning I couldn't get through to Matt's family, and lacking internet to see if anyone else I knew in the London was ok to hang out, decided to strike off on my own. It ended up being yet another prank of fate that due to the holiday weekend and other bad circumstance, I would end up being unable to meet with any of the four friends I had in the area who I'd contacted in advance.
I headed first to the Tower of London. Though expensive and a little crowded, it was without doubt, one of the most interesting places I visited on the entire trip. As if the structure, the exhibitions, and the Crown Jewels on display weren't enough, the history of that place blew me away and kept me there a lot longer than I'd at first expected.
The storm not only made things damp and chilly, but darkened what light there was of the day much quicker. With what was left of the day I went to see St Paul's Cathedral but only was able to photograph the outside since it was already closed for the day. There was an entry price as well, I think, and seeing that it looked a bit high I decided not to come back the next day. After that I went to see Big Ben and the Parliament Building, both of which were excellent.
It was around that time, however, that I also began to feel really sick. I'd had something of a headache since about when I woke up that morning, I think due to sleeping on the floor of the airport, but around this time my stomach began to really hurt too and I was having trouble keeping down my lunch. I called Matt's family again, this time getting through and made my way by train to their place. Under the weather as I was, I probably didn't make too good a first impression, and was so wretched had to almost immediately go straight to bed, but they were very kind and the next morning I felt much better.
Just how short my stay was really hit home about this time as my final full day was beginning and as much as I would've liked to get out of London and see the countryside, I couldn't. I'd been pretty interested in seeing one of the stone circle (not Stone Henge, but possibly Avebury or West Kennett) and one of the castles too (had my eye on Warwick), but again I suppose it just gives me something to do if ever I were to return. Because I'd gotten sick the day before, however, I instead opted to stay in London my final day and spent my time seeing what sights I could there and doing some final souvenir shopping for friends and coworkers back home. I saw Soho, Picadilly, Trafalgar Square, London Eye, and revisited Big Ben. Though it's touristy as hell, I probably should've seen Buckingham Palace and watched the Changing of the Guard but instead didn't bother. I also was able to try the Brit-Indian curry they had out there.
It's funny to me a little how the Japanese actually bad mouth English food as if it tastes bad or something, and while I am inclined to say that French, Italian and many other countries traditional food is more flavorful, I actually quite liked English food for all its simplicity. By contrast, a lot of the British friends I have really like to brag about having "the best curry in the world", made by Indian immigrants there who have access to much better ingredients and facilities in England than those back in India. Bearing in mind I had already been to India (best butter chicken curry I've ever had, I ate there), and that there are a few places in Tokyo that make amazing curry too (A-Raj in Ikebukuro is just great), I was determined to see if the curry in London lived up to the hype. I found a place in the Picadilly area, really one I just happened to pass by, and went in to give it a go. It was lunch time so they had good prices on specials, and the curry itself... pretty damn good. Not sure if I can say it was better than A-Raj or the better stuff I had in India, but it was definitely on the level. Shame I only had one day there and not enough time to go to another place. Considering I'd picked the place out at random and hadn't necessarily gone to a well known restaurant but still got something really good, I'd have to say I was pretty impressed.
I headed back to Matt's family not too late since I wanted to get back at a decent hour for them. Packed my things up for the morning and left the next day, my flight home eventless except for a delay in Malaysia which got me back home a couple hours later than I would've liked.
The shortness of time I had at some of places I'd gone to, served as a near constant reminder to me that the things I wanted to do in Europe couldn't all be done in so short a time, and that for most cities (especially big ones and even more so for whole countries) a couple of days simply wasn't enough time. I wonder sometimes if perhaps I spread myself to thin and so that the whole trip had a bit too much of a whirlwind feel to it, impressions fleeting rather than lasting. On the other hand, I have to say that I did things the way I wanted to in the end, and that had I taken a different approach I'd have probably simply regretted different things. Not everything goes as we plan, especially on trips we take, and to be quite honest I'm somewhat strange in wanting a messier life than most other people I've met. In many ways, I like things more complicated, and when it comes to travel it's the unexpected things that happen which give the journey a consistency of adventure or unknown. That, and all things considered, even if nothing goes the way you plan you still don't have a bad trip to Europe.
Arrival at the airport in Amsterdam
Amsterdam
Bruges
Bruges
Eiffel Tower
Eiffel Tower
Marseille
Aix en Provence
Aix en Provence
Alps
Venice, Grand Canal
Venice, Basilica of Santa Maria della Salute
On the road between Italy and Slovenia
Gnocchi di Susine. A sweet, cinnamony glazed, prune filled gnocchi that isn't common or popular outside of northern Italy. It did have an unusual taste, but was really glad I tried it while I was up there cause it was pretty good.
Skocjan Caves
The sunset in Trieste
Rome, Forum
The Colosseum
Saint Peter's Basilica
Piazza del Popolo
Pompeii
Pompeii, bathhouse
Tower Bridge
London Tower
Big Ben
London Eye on the left, Parliament building and Big Ben on the right
Trafalgar Square
