So part of the reason I'm so far behind in this blog is that every time I go to update, I realize I have to finish two weeks worth of back entries before I can get to what happen most recently. The thing is though, I can actually do whatever I want (my mom says so), so I'm just going to write about the past 24 hours, then I'll go backward in reverse chronological order and fill in the rest as I find time. Is that going to be okay Armand? Please let me know you impatient fook.
Okay, so I got to Vienna on Friday and checked into my hostel around Idunno o'clock in the evening. First things first, this hostel sucks. Not in the bedbugs and no-place-to-lock-up-your-stuff sense, but more in the sense that it's painted rainbow colors like a fun-house and there are a thousand party-hardies staying here. There's always a line for the front desk, no one knows anyone else, and every night the bar looks like a frat house. Which I think I would be fine with if I either came here with someone (it's easier to meet people in that environment when you have somewhere to start) or if it were in a different city, like Amsterdam. But Vienna is more of an intellectual, spiritual place so this hostel does not suit me very well.
Anyway, the first experience I had here was that when I reached out my hand to open the door to my locker, it fell off. The door I mean. Which was not exactly what I was hoping would happen. So I waited in line at the front desk, told the nice girl there what had happened, and asked for a new locker key. She said she couldn't help me because my room was full and that was the locker that had been assigned to me. I replied that the bed above mine was not taken so evidently at least one person had not checked in yet--thus, there must be an empty locker. It seems to me, I told her, that if there is only one working locker in the hostel it should go to me rather than the bloke who hasn't checked in yet because...um, he hasn't checked in yet. Either my reasoning convinced her or she was intimidated by my size, because she gave me a new key. I then ate some weinershnitzel and went to bed.
Yesterday was by far my most expensive day on this trip. I spent a whopping *** Euros (it's a number with such an obscene number of digits that this site actually censors it out as an obscenity). Luckily, I spent the last week in a very cheap city, so it doesn't look like I'm going to be too set back by this.
I started out the day with my now-typical routine of grabbing breakfast at the hostel right as it's closing so I don't get charged for it ("We're closed." "Well since you're going to throw this weinershnitzel out anyway, can I just grab it and eat it on the go? It'll be like neither the weinershnitzel nor I was ever here.") and then taking public transport to the center of town and walking around for about two hours taking in the feel of the city. The scenery in Vienna is somewhat similar to Prague but Vienna has a sort of self-awareness about its epic character that Prague doesn't have to the same extent; it's like Prague is Vienna's humbler twin.
After doing my walking tour I headed straight for the Mozart museum where I blew 12 euros on a combination ticket for the Mozart house and the "music house," another museum in a different part of town that I assumed would be up my alley. The Mozart house was interesting but generally pretty disappointing. Despite the way it was advertised, the museum had almost nothing authentic in it: none of the original furniture or instruments survive, and the museum contains no original manuscripts or letters written by The Man himself. The exhibit consisted almost entirely of photocopies of letters, billboards, and paintings related to the composer. Even the authentic-looking letter they had with Mozart's signature were all tagged with labels that said where the original could be found (most of them pointing the Vienna National Library). The only part of the exhibit that was really interesting was the apartment itself which, as the audio guide pointed out, does not contain any of the original furnishings but has the original interior, size, and views from the windows. The last part ended up being what I liked the most: I could look out the window from Mozart's study and see the exact view he would have seen as he was writing Figaro. His bedroom also had the original wall decorations (a marble design created by a previous occupant) which was also cool to me because I knew that Mozart looked up at that decorated ceiling as he went to sleep each night.
After the Mozart museum, I headed for the central palace where I stumbled upon some sort of military demonstration. There were dozens of tanks all over the inner courtyard and there were hundreds of little kids waiting in line to sit inside them. Good stuff. I headed for the national library to see if I could check out some actual Mozart manuscripts and was dismayed to find out that they are currently not on display due to another (apparently more important) exhibition going on inside the library. This did not make me very happy so I found a really good looking seafood place and blew another 12 euros on lunch. (At this point, I believe I'm still under my daily quota).
After lunch, I got tickets to see the Requiem played that evening at Karl's Church for a whopping 26 euros--a very steep price but I believed this was something worth blowing money on. I then went to the "music house" museum so I could be sure that I had gotten my money's worth with the combination ticket (the verdict: "um...sure") and then headed home to freshen up before the concert. Which is a fancy way of saying "check my email and put on something that isn't a t-shirt".
The concert was really nice. I adore the Requiem and it was amazing to hear it played in such a beautiful church. One of the things that most struck me about the experience was how eerily cool it sounded when each movement ended and the echo from the last note took about 4 seconds to dissipate. I won't try to tie that to any sort of metaphor but let's just say that hearing something like that in the city where Mozart died while completing the piece was poetic.
After the concert got out I wandered around town for awhile to see what it looks like on a Saturday night. Like in Prague, Vienna's building are lit dramatically from the bottom at night, so all the old buildings have an otherworldly glow. I started to head towards what my map showed as a neighborhood with lots of bars and clubs, and I ended up stuck between the Museum Quartier and the twin palaces with no easy way to get around either. I saw an opening in the museum's entrance that looked to me like a thru-passage, so I headed for it. At the end of the passage I found myself in a vast courtyard surrounded by museums (hence the name). One of the walls in the courtyard had--and I'm not making this up, as you will see when I post pictures--images of gigantic scuttling mice being projected on it from about 50 feet up. It was damn creepy. To make things even stranger, I kept seeing really strangely dressed people everywhere, like I on the set of A Clockwork Orange. I went for a passage on the other end of the courtyard that looked like it might bring me out the other side, but it ended up winding around and dropping me in an alleyway, where I could see all the Clockwork Orange people being let into some kind of party. On the other side of the entryway to the party was another alleyway leading off into nowhere, and there were glowing panes on each side of it that were lit up and down the alleyway in a sequential pattern. I pulled out my camera to videotape it, and just as I did, some little kid took off full speed and ran down the alleyway, racing the lights. It ended up being a sweet video and I will post it soon.
Anyway, I decided since I had stumbled on this freak party that I should check it out. I asked the bouncer what I needed to do to get in and he said (1) I was under-dressed and (2) there was a 10 euro cover charge. I asked if I could check it out before I decided and he let me into the entryway. There were two goofily dressed girls taking money from people and as soon as I walked in, one of them ruffled my hair and said "nice curly wig" and the other told me she would need to put mascara on me or I couldn't be let in. When I went wide-eyed, the second girl smiled and said (and here's the punchline...) "Austin Powers party." Needless to say, I now realized why everyone was dressed so strangely. Apparently, someone who works for the museum had just decided to throw a party there and everyone had heard about through word of mouth. Realizing it would be stupid of me to forgo this party when I had stumbled on it so serendipitously, I bit the bullet, paid the cover charge, told Chick #1 that my hair was not a wig, and let Chick #2 put mascara on me (she didn't put enough that anyone noticed).
I began my party experience by getting a drink--always a good idea. Then I moved on to my now-typical routine for being in a new party atmosphere and not knowing a soul: I took a few laps around to survey the place and listen for any English-speakers. The crowd seemed fun-loving and not too pretentious--everyone was laughing and no one was taking the dancing too seriously. Austin Powers with German subtitles was playing on a giant projector screen and a DJ was spinning on a makeshift stage at the back of the room. Also, no one was speaking English--this was an entirely local crowd, which when you're a lone outsider can either mean it's very easy to talk to people or damn near impossible (it depends on the cliqueyness factor). Luckily, this crowd was both drunk and friendly so I didn't have too much trouble, particularly after one girl lended me her goofy glasses--evidently it's more appealing to talk to someone when they're wearing goof glasses.
Anyway, long story short, I ended up having a blast and spending...um...yeah...buying drinks for people doesn't make you any richer apparently. I left at about 2 in the morning and realized that the subways were closed...boo... So I was forced to brave the Vienna bus system and got home an hour and half later. Either the bus system is WAY too complicated or I'm just stupid. Let me just throw out there that each bus stop (I ended up waiting at 4 different ones in the blistering cold) has at least 6 buses that make stops there. Which is totally fine, as long as the information about ALL 6 bus routes can be found in ONE PLACE. But no...SOMEONE decided it made more sense to have 6 different signposts for 6 different bus routes and to place them about 40 FEET APART. That way, when bus 42C arrives at the station and I'm standing next to the sign for bus 68J I have to run like hell to the 42C sign to check and see if that bus is going to my stop. Then, when the bus driver sees me running and waits for me (God bless him) and after reading the 42C sign I realize that bus does NOT go to my street, I have to embarrass myself in front of a bunch of Austrians and tell the bus driver that he waited for me in vain. Meanwhile, bus 68J has pulled up 120 feet behind me and I'm not going to be able to get back to the 68J sign in time to discover that the 68J bus DOES go to my street before the 68J bus is long-gone. Now I can either wait for the 68J bus to come back again (and that's 30 minutes I can never get back) or I can start checking the other signs to see if any other bus goes to my street and risk having the same thing happen again. The moral of the story: if your archduke gets assassinated while visiting Serbia and your respective allies Germany and France are itching to go to war with each other, don't allow yourself to become "entrenched" in the middle of a bitter nationalistic standoff--just let the whole thing slide. Get it, enTRENCHed?
So that's Vienna. Side note: it's incredible how often the word "wiener" can be found in the buildings, shops, and magazines of this great city.
P.S. Leave me comments. They make me happy.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Return to Prague
Prague was a sort of midpoint interlude for me, partly because I was so exhausted from Berlin and partly because for the first time on this trip, I didn't feel compelled to do any sightseeing, having lived here for several months already when I studied here. The result was that I had a very laid back, relaxing experience which ended up being exactly what I needed to freshen up for the second leg of the trip.
I stayed at Sir Toby's Hostel, which is only a block away from Osadni, where I lived when I studied abroad. I thought it might be weird to be living in that neighborhood again, but it really wasn't weird at all. If anything, it was just really convenient because I knew where everything was and how to get anywhere without needing to get used to a new area. In fact, being back in Prague wasn't weird in general. It was just nice, sort of like coming home after a first semester in college or going back to summer camp. I spent most of the daylight hours each day on my own (which was exactly what I wanted after being crammed in with so many people in Berlin) walking around the center of town, my favorite neighborhoods, and that park next to Vistaviste which was my favorite spot to go chill out when I studied in Prague. I also got to know some new areas, most notably the vast park area around Prague Castle which has some amazing views of the city.
Without a doubt, the best part about being back in Prague was the people I met, and I owe this in part to the wonder that is Sir Toby's Hostel. Sir Toby's is without a doubt that best hostel I've ever stayed in, and this is true in every aspect: great neighborhood, really friendly staff (I went out with a few of them for drinks), immaculate facilities, comfortable beds, cheap prices, good food, and a great community feel. Just like everything in Prague, Sir Toby's is housed in an old building with a dungeon. In this case, the dungeon houses the dining area, a weird Moroccan music room (basically, a room with lots of cushions on the ground and a few guitars), and the coziest pub I have ever seen. Every night, the pub would fill up with people early in the night, everyone would get acquainted, and then groups of people would either head into town or stay in the hostel to play board games (which often got rowdy). On the first floor is a large communal kitchen where people would cook for each other every night although (call it the Prague curse) the one night that I cooked, by the time I finished everyone was either gone or full. Which wasn't a problem because at least I had free leftovers for the following day.
The social dynamics in the hostel were interesting. This was the longest I had stayed in a hostel (7 nights) so it was the first time I got to experience what it is like to have a wave of people move in, become your friends, and then leave. During my stay, there were two distinct "waves" of people, and because each group had its own separate dynamic, I had very different experiences in the two halves of my stay.
The first three days, I hung out primarily with a group of party-hardy Aussies and a British girl named Dani with whom I shared a room. As soon as the Aussies and Dani all left, a pair of newlyweds moved into my room, and they were my best mates (in the Australian sense) for the rest of the week. Danny and Rebecca delighted me and cracked me up to the highest degree and I adore them both. They had just been married two weeks before in America and were now taking a very roundabout trek across Europe to Australia to live (Rebecca, like everyone else in Europe, is an Aussie). I don't know what it is about being around newlyweds, but they just made me so happy and having them there (despite Danny's snoring) made my stay that much more enjoyable. Another key figure in my Prague experience was Ashe, a photographer from New York that had moved to Prague to find a photography job "just for the hell of it". Since she didn't have an apartment, she had been living in the hostel for the last few weeks and the entire staff knew her. She and I bonded over being from New York (she lived in Alphabet City and is friends with the owner of Cheap Shots) and hung out a few times during the week. I also met up with some of my friends from Berlin when they got into town.
Marta, my adviser who is now 8.5 months pregnant, met me for lunch at Radost (yes Armand, it's got awesome food) one day and gave me the CD from our jazz concert at the end of my semester abroad. It was a little weird to hear me singing from two years ago, but it could have sounded worse I guess. In any case, it's good to have a record of the show (if anyone else that played wants it, let me know). I also went out for drinks with Beata, my amazing composition teacher who really busted my balls and worked with me on some of the music I'm the most proud of from college. She got me a free ticket to her concert, so I got to go see her perform and sing with her band, which was sweet.
So that pretty much sums up Prague. I got a lot of writing done, went to Cross Club and Bohemia Bagel several times apiece, and saw some old and new faces. And ate at Radost. Finally.
Now here's a weird, random story to top off this entry...
When I went to see Beata play, the only tickets she had available were seats on the stairs (evidently, she's getting really big in Prague, as there were posters all around with her name on them). So I ended up sitting on the stairs on top of a little cushion I was handed on my way up. I ended up sitting behind a teenage girl and her mother. I was pretty clearly the only person in the place that didn't speak Czech. Anyway, about five minutes before the performance was to start, I began coughing. The air was really bad in Prague, so I had allergies pretty much the whole time. My coughing continued for a minute or two, and then the mother in front of me turned around and said something to me in Czech. I responded the way I normally do when I'm caught off guard by someone speaking to me in a language I don't understand...I sputtered something that's an incomprehensible combination of "uh", "I don't know", and "sorry". The woman then beckoned toward me, like she wanted me to give her something. Not understanding what she was saying, I stupidly started to hand her my coat, at which point she grabbed...get ready...my PINKY and pinched it between her thumb and forefinger. Oddly, my automatic reaction to this was not to jerk my hand away and scream; rather, I just simply accepted, without even thinking twice, that this was the woman's benevolent attempt at helping me to stop coughing. So I just looked at her and smiled. She smiled back, released my pinky, and said "pet minuti" which means "5 minutes". So I pinched my own pinky for 5 minutes and the coughing stopped completely. And every time I felt like I needed to cough during the show, I just pinched my pinky again. Then the concert ended, and I ate some goulash with brambory knedlik and went to bed. The end.
I stayed at Sir Toby's Hostel, which is only a block away from Osadni, where I lived when I studied abroad. I thought it might be weird to be living in that neighborhood again, but it really wasn't weird at all. If anything, it was just really convenient because I knew where everything was and how to get anywhere without needing to get used to a new area. In fact, being back in Prague wasn't weird in general. It was just nice, sort of like coming home after a first semester in college or going back to summer camp. I spent most of the daylight hours each day on my own (which was exactly what I wanted after being crammed in with so many people in Berlin) walking around the center of town, my favorite neighborhoods, and that park next to Vistaviste which was my favorite spot to go chill out when I studied in Prague. I also got to know some new areas, most notably the vast park area around Prague Castle which has some amazing views of the city.
Without a doubt, the best part about being back in Prague was the people I met, and I owe this in part to the wonder that is Sir Toby's Hostel. Sir Toby's is without a doubt that best hostel I've ever stayed in, and this is true in every aspect: great neighborhood, really friendly staff (I went out with a few of them for drinks), immaculate facilities, comfortable beds, cheap prices, good food, and a great community feel. Just like everything in Prague, Sir Toby's is housed in an old building with a dungeon. In this case, the dungeon houses the dining area, a weird Moroccan music room (basically, a room with lots of cushions on the ground and a few guitars), and the coziest pub I have ever seen. Every night, the pub would fill up with people early in the night, everyone would get acquainted, and then groups of people would either head into town or stay in the hostel to play board games (which often got rowdy). On the first floor is a large communal kitchen where people would cook for each other every night although (call it the Prague curse) the one night that I cooked, by the time I finished everyone was either gone or full. Which wasn't a problem because at least I had free leftovers for the following day.
The social dynamics in the hostel were interesting. This was the longest I had stayed in a hostel (7 nights) so it was the first time I got to experience what it is like to have a wave of people move in, become your friends, and then leave. During my stay, there were two distinct "waves" of people, and because each group had its own separate dynamic, I had very different experiences in the two halves of my stay.
The first three days, I hung out primarily with a group of party-hardy Aussies and a British girl named Dani with whom I shared a room. As soon as the Aussies and Dani all left, a pair of newlyweds moved into my room, and they were my best mates (in the Australian sense) for the rest of the week. Danny and Rebecca delighted me and cracked me up to the highest degree and I adore them both. They had just been married two weeks before in America and were now taking a very roundabout trek across Europe to Australia to live (Rebecca, like everyone else in Europe, is an Aussie). I don't know what it is about being around newlyweds, but they just made me so happy and having them there (despite Danny's snoring) made my stay that much more enjoyable. Another key figure in my Prague experience was Ashe, a photographer from New York that had moved to Prague to find a photography job "just for the hell of it". Since she didn't have an apartment, she had been living in the hostel for the last few weeks and the entire staff knew her. She and I bonded over being from New York (she lived in Alphabet City and is friends with the owner of Cheap Shots) and hung out a few times during the week. I also met up with some of my friends from Berlin when they got into town.
Marta, my adviser who is now 8.5 months pregnant, met me for lunch at Radost (yes Armand, it's got awesome food) one day and gave me the CD from our jazz concert at the end of my semester abroad. It was a little weird to hear me singing from two years ago, but it could have sounded worse I guess. In any case, it's good to have a record of the show (if anyone else that played wants it, let me know). I also went out for drinks with Beata, my amazing composition teacher who really busted my balls and worked with me on some of the music I'm the most proud of from college. She got me a free ticket to her concert, so I got to go see her perform and sing with her band, which was sweet.
So that pretty much sums up Prague. I got a lot of writing done, went to Cross Club and Bohemia Bagel several times apiece, and saw some old and new faces. And ate at Radost. Finally.
Now here's a weird, random story to top off this entry...
When I went to see Beata play, the only tickets she had available were seats on the stairs (evidently, she's getting really big in Prague, as there were posters all around with her name on them). So I ended up sitting on the stairs on top of a little cushion I was handed on my way up. I ended up sitting behind a teenage girl and her mother. I was pretty clearly the only person in the place that didn't speak Czech. Anyway, about five minutes before the performance was to start, I began coughing. The air was really bad in Prague, so I had allergies pretty much the whole time. My coughing continued for a minute or two, and then the mother in front of me turned around and said something to me in Czech. I responded the way I normally do when I'm caught off guard by someone speaking to me in a language I don't understand...I sputtered something that's an incomprehensible combination of "uh", "I don't know", and "sorry". The woman then beckoned toward me, like she wanted me to give her something. Not understanding what she was saying, I stupidly started to hand her my coat, at which point she grabbed...get ready...my PINKY and pinched it between her thumb and forefinger. Oddly, my automatic reaction to this was not to jerk my hand away and scream; rather, I just simply accepted, without even thinking twice, that this was the woman's benevolent attempt at helping me to stop coughing. So I just looked at her and smiled. She smiled back, released my pinky, and said "pet minuti" which means "5 minutes". So I pinched my own pinky for 5 minutes and the coughing stopped completely. And every time I felt like I needed to cough during the show, I just pinched my pinky again. Then the concert ended, and I ate some goulash with brambory knedlik and went to bed. The end.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Sweden III
Today it was not raining so I got to do Stockholm properly. The city is divided into several little islands and then a northern and southern mainland area. The main touristy center of town is Gamla Stan, the old city center with the main city square. Gamla Stan reminded me a lot of the Old Town area in Prague: it's got lots of old buildings lining narrow corridors and a few large squares surrounded by museums and palaces (again, I'm not any good at descriptive language so bear with me). Unfortunately, everything is closed on Mondays. Boo... So I spent the morning and most of the afternoon just walking around and taking in the sights. Tomorrow, I'll return to the same area and actually go to the museums, at which point I'll get back to you.
The most notable thing I did today was to make a pilgrimage to Weekdays, which is THE clothing store in Sweden. The thing about Swedish people is that they are all REALLY attractive and they all dress REALLY well. Since I can't do anything about my looks, I figured I could get halfway there by buying some snazzy Swedish clothing. Weekday is famous for their jeans, which come in about 20 different styles and probably 60 different washes. They are all unisex, which took me 30 minutes of nervously perusing the aisles hoping I wasn't looking accidently looking at girls' jeans to figure out. Also, they're all really tight, though the tightness does vary slightly from one style to another. All of the jeans have really long legs, but you can get them tailored over-night for free. Which is exactly what I'm having done to my new pair of Swedish jeans as we speak.
I guess that's all for now. I'm gonna try to go out tonight and hopefully run into those Australian dudes again. Having a free place to stay for the rest of the time I'm here would be wonderful. The hostel is pretty expensive but I'm having a really good time here so as long as I can stay somewhere after tomorrow night, I'll probably stick around in Stockholm for the rest of the week. My current plan is to go to Malmo next in the south of Sweden. I have a friend from 10 years ago at summer camp (who actually remembers me!) with whom I can stay while I visit Copenhagen, which is just across a bridge from Malmo. After that, I plan on heading to Berlin. Ciao!
The most notable thing I did today was to make a pilgrimage to Weekdays, which is THE clothing store in Sweden. The thing about Swedish people is that they are all REALLY attractive and they all dress REALLY well. Since I can't do anything about my looks, I figured I could get halfway there by buying some snazzy Swedish clothing. Weekday is famous for their jeans, which come in about 20 different styles and probably 60 different washes. They are all unisex, which took me 30 minutes of nervously perusing the aisles hoping I wasn't looking accidently looking at girls' jeans to figure out. Also, they're all really tight, though the tightness does vary slightly from one style to another. All of the jeans have really long legs, but you can get them tailored over-night for free. Which is exactly what I'm having done to my new pair of Swedish jeans as we speak.
I guess that's all for now. I'm gonna try to go out tonight and hopefully run into those Australian dudes again. Having a free place to stay for the rest of the time I'm here would be wonderful. The hostel is pretty expensive but I'm having a really good time here so as long as I can stay somewhere after tomorrow night, I'll probably stick around in Stockholm for the rest of the week. My current plan is to go to Malmo next in the south of Sweden. I have a friend from 10 years ago at summer camp (who actually remembers me!) with whom I can stay while I visit Copenhagen, which is just across a bridge from Malmo. After that, I plan on heading to Berlin. Ciao!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Sweden II
I woke up the next morning to Joakim's girlfriend Fatima making breakfast for the two of us. I hadn't met her the night before, so it was a bit awkward at first. She was really sweet, and we ended up talking and drinking tea in Joakim's studio for hours. It was pouring rain outside again, and I was in no hurry to leave, so it worked out well. She ended up drawing me a map with all of her recommendations on it and then heading off to work.
After stalling for a few hours to see if the rain would stop, I decided to bite the bullet and just go to my hostel, the place I'm currently staying. The place very clean and proper. Clean in the sense that you have to take your shoes off when you enter the main sitting room; proper in the sense that you have to take your shoes off when you enter the main sitting room. Also, there is mandatory "silence" after 11 at night.
There are some other peculiar things about the place, and they seem very in keeping with what I've heard from Joakim and Fatima about Sweden's philosophy of rules and rule enforcement. Mainly, pretty much everything the hostel offers other than the room costs money, but the actual paying is based on the honor system. For example, there is a sauna that you have to pay to use, but there is nothing preventing you from using it without paying; the expecation is that you will go up to the front desk, be honest about the fact that you are about to use the sauna, and then go use it. The same is true with the laundry machines: they are in a public area, they work without any coins being inserted, and there is detergent sitting there waiting to be used...the expectation is that you will tell the front desk you want to use them and then give them money. I can't decide whether this is weird to me because living in America has convinced me that people aren't naturally designed to follow rules or because it's actually weird. In any case, I have been good about following all of the rules.
Another slightly peculiar thing about the hostel--but in a good way--is that they offer free pasta to their guests. You are expected to provide your own sauce, but the pasta is there for the takin' (as Sarah Palin would say). The effect is that every night the kitchen is full of 20-somethings making pasta with various sauces and speaking all sorts of foreign languages (which in this case means not Swedish). The only thing about the hostel that is not idea is that there are communal showers and bathrooms. Ugh. I guess that's what I get for being spoiled with private bathrooms at NYU. Luckily, since everything is so clean, the only significant negative about communal bathrooms is that they are scattered all around the hostel and so finding a vacant one in the middle of the night can be a hassle.
Breakfast in Sweden consists of sandwiches. The end.
Also, hamburgers are pork. Which is disgusting. It's a really unnerving feeling to bite into a hamburger only to find that it is really a breakfast sausage patty.
After stalling for a few hours to see if the rain would stop, I decided to bite the bullet and just go to my hostel, the place I'm currently staying. The place very clean and proper. Clean in the sense that you have to take your shoes off when you enter the main sitting room; proper in the sense that you have to take your shoes off when you enter the main sitting room. Also, there is mandatory "silence" after 11 at night.
There are some other peculiar things about the place, and they seem very in keeping with what I've heard from Joakim and Fatima about Sweden's philosophy of rules and rule enforcement. Mainly, pretty much everything the hostel offers other than the room costs money, but the actual paying is based on the honor system. For example, there is a sauna that you have to pay to use, but there is nothing preventing you from using it without paying; the expecation is that you will go up to the front desk, be honest about the fact that you are about to use the sauna, and then go use it. The same is true with the laundry machines: they are in a public area, they work without any coins being inserted, and there is detergent sitting there waiting to be used...the expectation is that you will tell the front desk you want to use them and then give them money. I can't decide whether this is weird to me because living in America has convinced me that people aren't naturally designed to follow rules or because it's actually weird. In any case, I have been good about following all of the rules.
Another slightly peculiar thing about the hostel--but in a good way--is that they offer free pasta to their guests. You are expected to provide your own sauce, but the pasta is there for the takin' (as Sarah Palin would say). The effect is that every night the kitchen is full of 20-somethings making pasta with various sauces and speaking all sorts of foreign languages (which in this case means not Swedish). The only thing about the hostel that is not idea is that there are communal showers and bathrooms. Ugh. I guess that's what I get for being spoiled with private bathrooms at NYU. Luckily, since everything is so clean, the only significant negative about communal bathrooms is that they are scattered all around the hostel and so finding a vacant one in the middle of the night can be a hassle.
Breakfast in Sweden consists of sandwiches. The end.
Also, hamburgers are pork. Which is disgusting. It's a really unnerving feeling to bite into a hamburger only to find that it is really a breakfast sausage patty.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Sweden I
So I woke up on Saturday and went down to the front desk to ask for another night. The guy said they were fully booked but I could wait around and see if anything opened up. Which was a problem for 2 reasons: (1) There was a chance I could end up on the street if nothing opened up and (2) All the hostels in Oslo were booked, so if I couldn't get a room I was going to have to go somewhere else, and all of the trains from Oslo to anywhere outside of Norway were leaving within an hour and a half. Needless to say, I was in a bit of a panic.
Now my choices for leaving Norway were to go to Copenhagen or Stockholm. Both cities had no hostel rooms available, only expensive hotel rooms. So my only option was to book a hotel and break the bank or take a night train from Copenhagen to Amsterdam, which would give me a bed to sleep on for the night. Fortunately, I thought of something else.
There was a Swedish guy in my 4th grade class named Joakim Hagstrom. I remembered him only because he had a funny name and moved in the middle of the school year. I got in touch with him on Facebook a few months ago and mentioned I might be coming to Stockholm in the fall. I went onto Facebook and realized he had given me his phone number. So, with an hour to go before the only Stockholm-bound train of the day left, I called Joakim on Skype, apologized profusely for waking him up so early, and asked him if I could stay with him tonight. Amazingly, he said yes. Without a moment's hesitation, I threw my stuff in the suitcase, checked out, and booked it full-speed to the train station. I caught the train about 5 minutes before it left.
Joakim met me at the train station and took me back to his apartment. He didn't really remember me from school (we weren't ever friends, we were just in the same class) but it was cool to hear what he had been up to the last few years. He cooked an amazing dinner for both of us and then gave me some directions on how to get to the center of the Stockholm nightlife. Since he had work the next morning, I headed out alone to navigate the metro.
The center of the non-touristy bar scene is in the south part of downtown, a neighborhood called Sodermalm. It consists of a long strip of shops and bars and a big town square (pardon the lame adjectives--I'm not so good with descriptions). I went into the first bar that looked fun, grabbed a beer, and went up to some fun looking Australians to strike up a conversation. Scottie, Wade, and Bruce were a pair of Aussies and a Kiwi, all of whom came out to Sweden to visit and then never left (I've met a surprising number of people in Stockholm with a similar story). They all live in an apartment together on the outside of town. They were already a few drinks in and asked me if I wanted to join their table (which meant buying every 4th round of drinks). I gladly accepted and hung out with them for the rest of the night.
A few drinks in, the 4 of us decided to start telling people we were in a band called Pink Jeans--the thinking apparently was that it would impress a couple girls that Wade had his eye on. When I told them I was a musician, they were so impressed they told me they had an extra bed and actually asked me to come live with them. I was stoked and said I would spend the first night in the hostel I had already booked and then take them up on the offer.
After several hours of jovial partying, I headed out, figuring I should allow myself enough time to navigate the subway back to where I was staying so I wouldn't get stuck somewhere really late at night. I made it back fine and crashed on a mattress Joakim provided for me. Unfortunately, because my phone doesn't work in Sweden and Skype has been dodgy, I haven't been able to get ahold of those Aussies since.
Now my choices for leaving Norway were to go to Copenhagen or Stockholm. Both cities had no hostel rooms available, only expensive hotel rooms. So my only option was to book a hotel and break the bank or take a night train from Copenhagen to Amsterdam, which would give me a bed to sleep on for the night. Fortunately, I thought of something else.
There was a Swedish guy in my 4th grade class named Joakim Hagstrom. I remembered him only because he had a funny name and moved in the middle of the school year. I got in touch with him on Facebook a few months ago and mentioned I might be coming to Stockholm in the fall. I went onto Facebook and realized he had given me his phone number. So, with an hour to go before the only Stockholm-bound train of the day left, I called Joakim on Skype, apologized profusely for waking him up so early, and asked him if I could stay with him tonight. Amazingly, he said yes. Without a moment's hesitation, I threw my stuff in the suitcase, checked out, and booked it full-speed to the train station. I caught the train about 5 minutes before it left.
Joakim met me at the train station and took me back to his apartment. He didn't really remember me from school (we weren't ever friends, we were just in the same class) but it was cool to hear what he had been up to the last few years. He cooked an amazing dinner for both of us and then gave me some directions on how to get to the center of the Stockholm nightlife. Since he had work the next morning, I headed out alone to navigate the metro.
The center of the non-touristy bar scene is in the south part of downtown, a neighborhood called Sodermalm. It consists of a long strip of shops and bars and a big town square (pardon the lame adjectives--I'm not so good with descriptions). I went into the first bar that looked fun, grabbed a beer, and went up to some fun looking Australians to strike up a conversation. Scottie, Wade, and Bruce were a pair of Aussies and a Kiwi, all of whom came out to Sweden to visit and then never left (I've met a surprising number of people in Stockholm with a similar story). They all live in an apartment together on the outside of town. They were already a few drinks in and asked me if I wanted to join their table (which meant buying every 4th round of drinks). I gladly accepted and hung out with them for the rest of the night.
A few drinks in, the 4 of us decided to start telling people we were in a band called Pink Jeans--the thinking apparently was that it would impress a couple girls that Wade had his eye on. When I told them I was a musician, they were so impressed they told me they had an extra bed and actually asked me to come live with them. I was stoked and said I would spend the first night in the hostel I had already booked and then take them up on the offer.
After several hours of jovial partying, I headed out, figuring I should allow myself enough time to navigate the subway back to where I was staying so I wouldn't get stuck somewhere really late at night. I made it back fine and crashed on a mattress Joakim provided for me. Unfortunately, because my phone doesn't work in Sweden and Skype has been dodgy, I haven't been able to get ahold of those Aussies since.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Norway II
I spent the day in Oslo yesterday, but since it was pouring rain the entire day I kinda kept it low key. I needed a chance to get my bearings anyway, so it was nice to just relax a little in the hostel. I took a little walking tour of the city when the rain calmed down a little, and I saw most of the “outside stuff” there was to see: pretty much a big city park which was very beautiful and a really sweet opera house with a view of the city. Most of the Norwegians I talked to at the hostel said that Oslo was not a terribly interesting city, and they were right. Of course, my experience was hampered a bit by the rain and I might have enjoyed it more had the weather been a little better; nonetheless, with prices for food and everything else so high and with not much to see, the city seemed a less appealing place to spend my second day than, say, the Norwegian countryside or the fjords. So I heeded the advice of a British couple I met on the plane coming here and decided to take a day trip yesterday to the fjord town Flam.
This was my first day using my Eurail pass, so I got to the station nice and early to make sure I could get everything figured out with plenty of time to spare. Unfortunately, the first thing I learned was that there had been a fire between Oslo and Flam that had severed the power lines on the railroad. I would have to take a bus the second half of the way. The result was that the total traveling time for the day ended up being about 12 hours (with 4 hours in Flam) which was fine because I had just bought Michael Crichton’s Prey as an e-book for my iPod and would have plenty to keep me occupied.
When I boarded the train, the conductor told me it was fully booked but that I was welcome to take a seat anyway and “see what happens.” I figured, what the hell. So I took the first window seat I found and then spent the next hour or so worrying every time the train stopped that someone would come along with a reservation for my seat and force me up. At each stop, dozens of people got on the train and I watched as people around me were forced to get up. Amazingly, every seat was reserved in my compartment except for mine and the one next to me so I was able to stretch out for the entire ride.
Once I got to my transfer station, I grabbed my stuff and began the 3 hour bus ride, which was unbelievable. The whole countryside is covered in trees that are either bright yellow or deep green, all mixed up together along the cliffsides. The fjords are incredible, and no description I could give them would do the experience justice. Suffice it to say, when we arrived in Flam, I was overwhelmed.
Flam is a tiny agricultural town nestled in a fjord a mile or two downstream from Myrdal, a similar town. The standard route is to take a train into Myrdal, then change to the Flam Rail, which takes you along a scenic route between Myrdal and Flam and then back again to catch your returning train. Since the railway between Myrdal and Flam was partially broken, the Flam Rail was offering a discounted ticket for a ride about halfway along the route and then back again. I bought a ticket and then found myself with about 3 hours to kill.
First, I ate my first real meal in two days. The food is so outrageously expensive in Oslo that I had been living off of cereal, bananas, and the chicken the Spanish people made for me the other night. Now, I figured, was as good a time as any to treat myself to some real sustenance.
After eating and internetting a bit, I decided to go for a walk. I checked out a trail map, found a route that looked nice and short, and started walking. The path took my up the hillside and through a bunch of farmland. All along the way, the cliffsides towered all around and the little town of Flam got smaller below me.
At a certain point, I ended up right between two large pastures, one with sheep and the other with cows, all grazing. As I got closer to the cows, I could see a large bull looking intently at me. I got a little closer and he still had his eyes right on me. I followed my instinct and went for my camera, but as soon as I snapped a picture the bull started moving toward me, his head bowed dangerously. It didn’t occur to me that I should be worried so I just kept walking closer.
Suddenly, he let out a bellowing “moo.” The other bulls immediately looked up at him. “MOO!” he yelled. It sounded unmistakably like a rallying cry. As the other bulls closed in at his sides, they began to moo too. Before long, there was a whole line of them looking menacingly at me and mooing so loudly it echoed through the entire canyon. I was certain that it could be heard in both of the nearby towns and by the farmers. And I was also convinced I was about to be charged by a bunch of angry bulls. So I backed slowly away and then made my way back to the town so I could catch the train.
…which ended up being futile because I’m an idiot and mixed up the train times. So the train was gone and I now had an hour and a half to kill before the bus would show up to take me back to Oslo. I decided I should face my fears and go visit the cows again because I didn’t think I could live with the idea of being a person who’s afraid of cows. So I took a roundabout way back to the farm, walking along the river and taking tons of pictures. When I got to the cows again, they did their synchronized mooing thing again, but this time I just kept walking and they seemed to appreciate it.
On the way back to Oslo, the various trains and buses I had to take were delayed one after the other, so I ended up getting back to my hostel after midnight, the time when the reception/internet area closes. This was very unfortunate for me because I needed to make a phone call, which required the internet, and I needed to book another night at the hostel or else book another hostel somewhere else. Since I couldn't do either one of these things, I resolved to go to bed and get up early enough to book another night before my checkout time. (To be continued...)
This was my first day using my Eurail pass, so I got to the station nice and early to make sure I could get everything figured out with plenty of time to spare. Unfortunately, the first thing I learned was that there had been a fire between Oslo and Flam that had severed the power lines on the railroad. I would have to take a bus the second half of the way. The result was that the total traveling time for the day ended up being about 12 hours (with 4 hours in Flam) which was fine because I had just bought Michael Crichton’s Prey as an e-book for my iPod and would have plenty to keep me occupied.
When I boarded the train, the conductor told me it was fully booked but that I was welcome to take a seat anyway and “see what happens.” I figured, what the hell. So I took the first window seat I found and then spent the next hour or so worrying every time the train stopped that someone would come along with a reservation for my seat and force me up. At each stop, dozens of people got on the train and I watched as people around me were forced to get up. Amazingly, every seat was reserved in my compartment except for mine and the one next to me so I was able to stretch out for the entire ride.
Once I got to my transfer station, I grabbed my stuff and began the 3 hour bus ride, which was unbelievable. The whole countryside is covered in trees that are either bright yellow or deep green, all mixed up together along the cliffsides. The fjords are incredible, and no description I could give them would do the experience justice. Suffice it to say, when we arrived in Flam, I was overwhelmed.
Flam is a tiny agricultural town nestled in a fjord a mile or two downstream from Myrdal, a similar town. The standard route is to take a train into Myrdal, then change to the Flam Rail, which takes you along a scenic route between Myrdal and Flam and then back again to catch your returning train. Since the railway between Myrdal and Flam was partially broken, the Flam Rail was offering a discounted ticket for a ride about halfway along the route and then back again. I bought a ticket and then found myself with about 3 hours to kill.
First, I ate my first real meal in two days. The food is so outrageously expensive in Oslo that I had been living off of cereal, bananas, and the chicken the Spanish people made for me the other night. Now, I figured, was as good a time as any to treat myself to some real sustenance.
After eating and internetting a bit, I decided to go for a walk. I checked out a trail map, found a route that looked nice and short, and started walking. The path took my up the hillside and through a bunch of farmland. All along the way, the cliffsides towered all around and the little town of Flam got smaller below me.
At a certain point, I ended up right between two large pastures, one with sheep and the other with cows, all grazing. As I got closer to the cows, I could see a large bull looking intently at me. I got a little closer and he still had his eyes right on me. I followed my instinct and went for my camera, but as soon as I snapped a picture the bull started moving toward me, his head bowed dangerously. It didn’t occur to me that I should be worried so I just kept walking closer.
Suddenly, he let out a bellowing “moo.” The other bulls immediately looked up at him. “MOO!” he yelled. It sounded unmistakably like a rallying cry. As the other bulls closed in at his sides, they began to moo too. Before long, there was a whole line of them looking menacingly at me and mooing so loudly it echoed through the entire canyon. I was certain that it could be heard in both of the nearby towns and by the farmers. And I was also convinced I was about to be charged by a bunch of angry bulls. So I backed slowly away and then made my way back to the town so I could catch the train.
…which ended up being futile because I’m an idiot and mixed up the train times. So the train was gone and I now had an hour and a half to kill before the bus would show up to take me back to Oslo. I decided I should face my fears and go visit the cows again because I didn’t think I could live with the idea of being a person who’s afraid of cows. So I took a roundabout way back to the farm, walking along the river and taking tons of pictures. When I got to the cows again, they did their synchronized mooing thing again, but this time I just kept walking and they seemed to appreciate it.
On the way back to Oslo, the various trains and buses I had to take were delayed one after the other, so I ended up getting back to my hostel after midnight, the time when the reception/internet area closes. This was very unfortunate for me because I needed to make a phone call, which required the internet, and I needed to book another night at the hostel or else book another hostel somewhere else. Since I couldn't do either one of these things, I resolved to go to bed and get up early enough to book another night before my checkout time. (To be continued...)
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Norway I
Hello folks! This is the first post in my first ever travel blog and I hope you will enjoy.
I spent my first three days since getting to Europe in London getting over my jetlag and generally just getting adjusted before the real trip starts. Yesterday, I flew from London’s Stansted airport (which takes a pretty penny to get to from the city) to Torp airport about 2 hours outside of Oslo, Norway. I got into the city and checked into my hostel around 6 last night and basically passed out. My jetlag is unfortunately not gone yet so it is currently 6:30 in the morning and I am WIDE awake.
Anyway, a few things of note from yesterday… First, Norway is GORGEOUS right now. The countryside is supposed to be beautiful year-round but now that the trees are right in the middle of turning it is pretty amazing. I’m planning on taking lots of pictures today so stay tuned.
Second, Oslo is ABSURDLY expensive. Like, to the point where you look at a price tag and actually do a double-take. I feel a little silly now for ever suggesting that London was exorbitantly expensive. My first wake-up call came when I had to pay 40 dollars to get from the airport into Oslo. My second came when I realized that a McDonald’s hamburger costs…brace yourself…15 dollars! That’s JUST the sandwich, with no meal attached. Not that I had any intention of getting Micky D’s anyway, but I figured I could get some insight into the general price level by looking at something that is sold pretty much everywhere. In the interest of keeping to my budget, I bought the cheapest groceries I could find (a box of Cheerios, some banana chips and some snack mix) and then began trekking through town to find my hostel.
The place is pretty nice. It’s on a fairly quiet street a few blocks away from the train station and the people at the front desk are young and very friendly, as hostel people go. There is a big computer lounge in the lobby with free internet, which is SUCH a luxury. They do charge for sheets which is lame, but I brought a sleeping bag so I passed on the 10 bucks that would have cost.
I checked into my dorm room, which had 3 bunk beds, a little kitchenette, and a private bathroom. A really nice Norwegian guy named Anderson was already in the room and I talked to him about life in Norway for a while as I got settled in. At some point, one of the guys from the front desk knocked at the door. He had come up to talk to my second roommate, a Norwegian girl with a shaved head who, we now realized, had been sitting in the bathroom for the past half hour doing God knows what. Erik and the girl (who I think is named Corrita) had what seemed to be a slightly heated conversation in Norwegian, and then Erik left. All along, Anderson kept shooting me funny looks when Corrita wasn’t looking
Once Erik was gone, I introduced myself to Corrita and we had a fairly normal conversation for a few minutes. She said she was from up north and was trying to make it as a theatre actress in Oslo. Then, gradually, she became completely insane. She started talked casually about friends that had stabbed her the back and how it was going to be hard to make it in the theatre industry with so many enemies. At this point, I was still smiling and nodding. Then she started talking about getting revenge on the people that had harmed her and how she was going to inflict pain on all of them that was equal to “seven times” what they had inflicted on her. At this point, I stopped smiling and nodding and started to just sit in silence. She gradually transitioned from talking to me to just talking to herself. Eventually, she was facing the other way just muttering under her breath, switching between English and Norwegian. I could make out the words “pain” and “revenge” over and over again. At this point, I tried to strike up another conversation with Anderson, but any time we got too loud for Corrita to hear herself, she would just talk to herself louder.
Eventually, she left the room and, after making sure she wasn’t listening outside the door, Anderson told me that she had been living the room for a few days and had gotten in trouble with Erik for yelling at others in the room. Also, she was on drugs (go figure). Her conversation with Erik was supposedly her last warning. I told Anderson it was very nice meeting him and I wished him the best, but there was no way in hell I was staying in that room.
Luckily there was another bed available in a room on the third floor, so I am currently staying with a woman and two men in their 40s from Spain. They are all really nice and were kind enough last night to let me have some of the chicken they cooked for themselves. They have been in Norway for 2 weeks and have several recommendations for me, most of them involving going up north.
Right now, I need to decide if I can afford to stay in Norway at all…if all of it is really this expensive, I may need to cut short my stay in this hostel and book it to Stockholm, adding Norway to the list of places to go when I am not on a just-got-out-of-college-and-don’t-have-a-job-just-some-savings-that-will-be-gone-at-the-end-of-this-trip budget. In the mean time, I plan to at least check out some of the scenery. There are supposed to be some nice scenic walks not too far from the hostel, so that’s what I plan to check out today. The good thing about scenery is it doesn’t cost anything, and not spending money on attractions should hopefully balance out the huge amount I’ll have to spend on food. If I find after being here for a day or two that I can’t stay within my budget, I’ll try to shorten my hostel reservation and book it to Stockholm, possibly with a stop in Bergen for the day. That’s the great thing about having a Eurail pass…I don’t have to plan anything.
Anyway, that’s all for today. I will update soon with pictures. Hope all is well with everyone back home!
I spent my first three days since getting to Europe in London getting over my jetlag and generally just getting adjusted before the real trip starts. Yesterday, I flew from London’s Stansted airport (which takes a pretty penny to get to from the city) to Torp airport about 2 hours outside of Oslo, Norway. I got into the city and checked into my hostel around 6 last night and basically passed out. My jetlag is unfortunately not gone yet so it is currently 6:30 in the morning and I am WIDE awake.
Anyway, a few things of note from yesterday… First, Norway is GORGEOUS right now. The countryside is supposed to be beautiful year-round but now that the trees are right in the middle of turning it is pretty amazing. I’m planning on taking lots of pictures today so stay tuned.
Second, Oslo is ABSURDLY expensive. Like, to the point where you look at a price tag and actually do a double-take. I feel a little silly now for ever suggesting that London was exorbitantly expensive. My first wake-up call came when I had to pay 40 dollars to get from the airport into Oslo. My second came when I realized that a McDonald’s hamburger costs…brace yourself…15 dollars! That’s JUST the sandwich, with no meal attached. Not that I had any intention of getting Micky D’s anyway, but I figured I could get some insight into the general price level by looking at something that is sold pretty much everywhere. In the interest of keeping to my budget, I bought the cheapest groceries I could find (a box of Cheerios, some banana chips and some snack mix) and then began trekking through town to find my hostel.
The place is pretty nice. It’s on a fairly quiet street a few blocks away from the train station and the people at the front desk are young and very friendly, as hostel people go. There is a big computer lounge in the lobby with free internet, which is SUCH a luxury. They do charge for sheets which is lame, but I brought a sleeping bag so I passed on the 10 bucks that would have cost.
I checked into my dorm room, which had 3 bunk beds, a little kitchenette, and a private bathroom. A really nice Norwegian guy named Anderson was already in the room and I talked to him about life in Norway for a while as I got settled in. At some point, one of the guys from the front desk knocked at the door. He had come up to talk to my second roommate, a Norwegian girl with a shaved head who, we now realized, had been sitting in the bathroom for the past half hour doing God knows what. Erik and the girl (who I think is named Corrita) had what seemed to be a slightly heated conversation in Norwegian, and then Erik left. All along, Anderson kept shooting me funny looks when Corrita wasn’t looking
Once Erik was gone, I introduced myself to Corrita and we had a fairly normal conversation for a few minutes. She said she was from up north and was trying to make it as a theatre actress in Oslo. Then, gradually, she became completely insane. She started talked casually about friends that had stabbed her the back and how it was going to be hard to make it in the theatre industry with so many enemies. At this point, I was still smiling and nodding. Then she started talking about getting revenge on the people that had harmed her and how she was going to inflict pain on all of them that was equal to “seven times” what they had inflicted on her. At this point, I stopped smiling and nodding and started to just sit in silence. She gradually transitioned from talking to me to just talking to herself. Eventually, she was facing the other way just muttering under her breath, switching between English and Norwegian. I could make out the words “pain” and “revenge” over and over again. At this point, I tried to strike up another conversation with Anderson, but any time we got too loud for Corrita to hear herself, she would just talk to herself louder.
Eventually, she left the room and, after making sure she wasn’t listening outside the door, Anderson told me that she had been living the room for a few days and had gotten in trouble with Erik for yelling at others in the room. Also, she was on drugs (go figure). Her conversation with Erik was supposedly her last warning. I told Anderson it was very nice meeting him and I wished him the best, but there was no way in hell I was staying in that room.
Luckily there was another bed available in a room on the third floor, so I am currently staying with a woman and two men in their 40s from Spain. They are all really nice and were kind enough last night to let me have some of the chicken they cooked for themselves. They have been in Norway for 2 weeks and have several recommendations for me, most of them involving going up north.
Right now, I need to decide if I can afford to stay in Norway at all…if all of it is really this expensive, I may need to cut short my stay in this hostel and book it to Stockholm, adding Norway to the list of places to go when I am not on a just-got-out-of-college-and-don’t-have-a-job-just-some-savings-that-will-be-gone-at-the-end-of-this-trip budget. In the mean time, I plan to at least check out some of the scenery. There are supposed to be some nice scenic walks not too far from the hostel, so that’s what I plan to check out today. The good thing about scenery is it doesn’t cost anything, and not spending money on attractions should hopefully balance out the huge amount I’ll have to spend on food. If I find after being here for a day or two that I can’t stay within my budget, I’ll try to shorten my hostel reservation and book it to Stockholm, possibly with a stop in Bergen for the day. That’s the great thing about having a Eurail pass…I don’t have to plan anything.
Anyway, that’s all for today. I will update soon with pictures. Hope all is well with everyone back home!
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