The Road Trip Part Three

The last stop on our road trip was Brussels, the Capital of Europe. It was a nightmare to just drive into the city. Once again we had issues with the GPS system, which Theresa kept calling the GPA, to my amusement. We were driving around the circular freeway that goes around the city when we lost the signal for the GPS. We chose a random exit, which turned out to be almost correct. Finding the hostel was not really the hard part; it was finding a place to park the car. Theresa was a driving champ, but I was worried that the stress of it all would leave a sour note on the end of our trip. It was the kind of situation where if we were related to each other, we would have probably gotten into a major yelling match. Luckily, we are old friends who know when to grit their teeth and keep driving, and when to pay 15 Euros per night to park the car in a garage. We were so hungry after the parking incident that we almost ate a Pizza Hut. When the waiters at Pizza Hut ignore your request for a table in the center of Brussels, you have reached a low point. We found an Indian place on the La Bourse. Meh.

The following day we set out to conquer the sightseeing hotspots of Brussels. We strolled through the Grote Markt, which had a fabulous blue Christmas tree and flashing lights on the side of the City Hall. Just like Theresa said it would be, we walked around a corner and found Manneken Pis, which is a statue of a little boy peeing. This is the biggest tourist attraction of Brussels. The day was cloudy and cold, and before long we were ready to give up the fight. Theresa and I were walking down a stepped brick lane when she mentioned that she wanted some tea. As soon as she said this, I noticed a little shop called “The Tea Room.” This charming little place had comfortable chairs and sweet individual teapots. I liked the teat that Theresa had, black tea with mango and rose petals that I bought 100 grams to take with me to Ireland.

That night we followed our Brussels map/guide to a cozy little bar serving all the best Belgian Trappist beers. I started with the famous Belgian Gueze, a beer with special bacteria from the Zenne River that Brussels is built over. It was very sour and try as I might, I didn’t like it. We switched over to Chimay and Kriek, and had a lovely evening talking about every subject under the sun. It was an understated night, but one of my favorite nights of the trip. The next day we went for a Liege Waffle at Belgaufra, a chain of waffle-makers that I heard about from Orangette. It was so delicious that one second into my first bite, I was thinking of buying a second one. After a short ride on a Ferris wheel and a bit of a snow flurry, I was on my way to the airport.

The Road Trip Part Two

Although I was happy to leave our hostel, I was feeling sick and getting worse as we drove to Bruges. At some point on the drive, my chest was so congested I thought that I would suffocate. We were silently on the drive, but I was secretly thinking that Theresa should drive me to the nearest hospital. When we arrived, Bruges was full of people! Theresa was completely shocked, as she had been there many many times with her family and usually there is no one in sight. It was an "open Sunday," where people could sightsee and shop for last minute Christmas gifts. If you relatives gave you Belgian chocolate or beer for Christmas, they probably bought it in Bruges on that day. I don't even remember getting to the hostel and plopping down on the bed, but a few hours later, we were braving the cold to get some dinner. An unexpected Flemish specialty, we ate baby-back ribs and french fries. The one upside of having a cold is the excuse to feed yourself until you almost burst. Feed a cold, right? Anyway, I had hacked a lung out onto the Bruggian streets, so I was feeling a lot better.

In the morning we woke up early to fit everything in Bruges into one day. Bruges is a small city with a few key sights, but we were so busy! We started with the Dali museum. I never cared for Dali before. I thought his elephant posters and melting clocks were a little too hippie, but his illustrations of Spanish folk tales won me over. Afterward, we went to the French Fry Museum, however this is a misnomer. I learned there that Americans call them french fries because they were offered to American soldiers by French-speaking Belgian soldiers during WWII. Theresa had a good laugh at me and my countrymen for that. We climbed the seemingly endless staircase up to the Belfry, where we had a sunny view almost out to the North Sea. The next stop was a brewery tour at Half Moon Brewery. It was a great tour with an even better beer at the end. We could barely fit it in, but we split a waffle and some Kriek at an extremely touristy place on the main town square. The waiter had no idea whether he should speak English or German to us. Dinner was at a classy little Michelin starred place where I indulged in the Belgian special, moules frites. Theresa had a delicious lemon sole, and we both went home happy campers. Bruges had won me over, and I didn't stand a chance. Before we left we had time for one more waffle at a Mozart-themed restaurant (?)

The Road Trip Part One

The next morning we peeled ourselves out of bed, frantically packed our bags and various GPS systems and hopped in the car to the Netherlands. Whenever the Netherlands were mentioned in my history lectures, I always wondered why a country at the top of Europe was called "Nether." I don't know if this is the correct reason for the appellation, but that is one flat country. It is the essence of lowlands. Besides the occasional windmill, there is nothing taller than me in that whole country. On the drive, Theresa and I listened to her old mixes, including one from her year in Santa Barbara. I had completely forgotten that old Sugarcult song that we all sang on repeat for a year. Ironically, that song is about not being someone's memory. Our GPS system didn't know the name of the street we were staying on in Amsterdam, so a combination of Google Directions, my sense of direction, and a stop at the gas station for map perusal, was how we got to our hostel. I should probably stop complaining about that place since it has been over a month since I was there, but this place was hos-hell. I now know what people mean by a Dutch staircase, and the cat there had a specific job to do. At least our 8-person room was occupied by only us for the entire week.

We went out to eat at a little place Theresa remembered from her first trip to Amsterdam. There we met a group of young people who worked across the street at Heineken. They had blonde curly hair and drank Heineken the whole night. We were in Holland now.

The next day we took the Free Walking Tour. I swear, I am the best advertisement for that company. I tell everyone to take the free walking tours. The Amsterdam one was great, with an appropriately kooky host. We saw the smallest house in Amsterdam, learned why the house lean forward and to the side, walked through a Beijinhof, saw a few coffeeshops and red lights, and ended with some Heinekens at a corner bar across from the Anne Frank House. At this point I felt a little tickle in my throat. I had no idea it would turn into the worst and longest lasting cold of my life. The next day we only had enough energy for a boat ride along the canals. We were both sick and cold, but it was warm inside the covered boats. Amsterdam is actually one of the most charming places I have ever been. The houses seemed alive and cheery, and no, I did not visit the coffeeshops. However, Theresa and I were walking home one night when we turned onto a most endearing street. It was dark and foggy, and the red and white bricks were glowing faintly in the light of the streetlamps. It immediately reminded me of Mary Poppins. I said this to Theresa and she started freaking out and saying, "Oh my God! I was thinking the same exact thing!" We were both so in love with this street that we walked down a few more times while we were in Amsterdam.

On our last day we both said we had to go to the Anne Frank House. I have no words to describe what it was like to go inside the Secret Annex and to read the heartbreaking quotes from her diary written on the walls. Just go. At some point in your life, just go. We both got copies of her diary to read that night. The next day, we left for Bruges.

Cologne

I stepped a little outside my comfort zone and tried Mitfahrgelegenheit to get to Cologne. Mitfahrgelegenheit is really just a long German word for RideShare. Me and two Turkish guys drove five hours across a snowy German landscape when they unceremoniously dropped me off at the East Cologne train station. My dear old friend Theresa Hagelüken was waiting for me, but it was more like shivering for me. It was bitterly cold. I had been nervous to see Theresa after six years since out junior year together at Bishop Diego High School, but right away it was like we were in a time warp. At her cosy orange and red apartment, we broke out the photo albums and laughed about my penchant for funny faces and her penchant for taking pictures of the class cutie, who shall remain nameless (Ryan!). I was already having a better time than I could have imagined.When I decompressed from my ride across Germany, we went into the old part of Cologne. It was breathtakingly gorgeous as we walked over the Rhine. The bridge has a bunch of locks locked onto it where couples have engraved their names so their love will last forever. Cologne must be a city full of soulmates. The Cologne Cathedral is pretty impressive; I can see why it is a UNESCO world heritage site. What made it all the more beautiful were the twinkling winter lights of the Weihnachtsmarkt, the Christmas markets I wrote about in my last post. We had glühwein and went for Italian food. I was happy.

The next day, we went out to meet her friend Anja at their favorite spot. The waiter was trying a bit too hard, but none of use minded when he went to buy us french fries. That night was a Monday, so we didn't get too crazy. Just the usual of singing old Backstreet Boys songs at the local karaoke joint.Tuesday is apparently a good night to go out in Cologne, especially when you are a teenager. It was so strange to be in a castle-themed club with my friend from high school as we watched teens screaming along to old Britney Spears songs. This trip was going to have a lot of music nostalgia.

Christmas in Germany

(Me reenacting Do-Re-Mi)

I kept thinking that I would update this blog with all the places I have traveled to since Munich, but I got a little swept away by Berlin and it just didn't happen. In any case, today seemed like the perfect day to post a little something. So to speed through the past two months, here are the highlights. Munich: cold snap, day trip to Neuschwanstein Castle, Hofbrauhaus with new friends Terry and David and Pretzel Girl. Salzburg: The Sound of Music Tour (really cheesy fun!), Mozart's House, Schnapps Tasting, and a monastery's beer hall.

Prague: Crazy night with Terry and David and Norwegian cougars, lots of cheap beer and delicious gulasch, beautiful walks through the old city and Prague Castle.

Berlin: seeing Tobi, four-week German course, Fernsehturm. Hamburg: Pheonix Concert with Terry and David, fireworks, Bum Bum. Whoo, that was exhausting.

Now I want to write about the magic of Christmas in Germany. I was telling my roommate Kelo yesterday that Germany has the Christmas traditions that I always dreamed about. Christmas in Santa Barbara is usually pleasant and balmy, but when you want to wear cozy christmas sweaters and survive on hot chocolate, 65 degree weather can be a bummer.

It's 1 degree (celsius) today.

I woke up a bit late and have since been camped out by the heater in my bright yellow kitchen with a big mug of Earl Grey and chocolate dipped gingerbread cookies. They are called "Spekulatius" in German, which is a silly word, imho.

Yesterday, Kela and I took little Jonas to the Weihnachtsmarkt at the Kulturbrauerie. It's a small Christmas market inside the historical brewery of out neighborhood, Prenzlauerberg. Weihnachtsmarkts are probably my favorite thing about Germany so far. My Tandem partner took me to the Weihnachtsmarkt at the Gendarmenmarkt a few weeks ago. We speak for an hour in German, then an hour in English, but this time we were more concerned with eating bratwurst and drinking Glühwein. Friederike introduced me to the wonders of Feuerzangenbowle, basically a giant pot of mulled wine with a trough of sugar hanging above it. The sugar has rum poured over the top, and then it is lit on fire! And to top it all off, they have a bottle of rum to add a pinch more alcohol to each glass of carmelized rum-wine. Rike is having a Feuerzangenbowle party in Saturday, and I can't wait to have my own glass of the stuff. Other than highly flammable drinks, the Weihnachtsmarkt has lots of sweets and presents like wooden ornaments and knit caps. It's so cold you can see you breath, and the only solution is more Glühwein. I love Germany.

In other news, in two days I am setting out for more travel. This time I want to take a ton of pictures and keep this blog alive. First stop is Cologne to see a friend I haven't seen for 6 years!