Glasgow is Boring

Those of you with a short attention span will be pleased; this is going to be a short post.

Even though I'd loved every minute in Edinburgh, I was ready to move on to a new city. I guess I've gotten used to moving to a new place every few days, because my wandering foot starts to itch once I feel familiar with the city I'm in. I took advantage of the train's wi-fi to do some research about Glasgow; the scenery between Edinburgh and Glasgow couldn't compete with what I'd seen on the ride from York to Edinburgh, so I didn't feel too guilty about being plugged in.

After about twenty minutes of Googling, however, I was a bit apprehensive about my next destination. Apparently there aren't any free walking tours in Glasgow, which seemed a bad omen. The only other recommended attractions that I came across in my internetting were the cathedral, three museums, the library, and the graveyard.

I'm sorry, but if a graveyard is one of a city's top-rated attractions, it can't be a terribly exciting place. You might even say it's dead boring.

I know. Sorry.

So I wasn't feeling too optimistic when I arrived in the central train station in Glasgow. My spirits dropped even lower after my navigation app revealed that my hostel was a 45-minute hike from the city center, right next to the highway. Still, I didn't want to write the city off entirely--I'd only just arrived after all--so I cinched the waist strap on my backpack and strode off.

My evening only went downhill from there. Rather than detail every single thing that went wrong--I did promise a shorter read this time--I'll give a thirteen-word summary: sweaty walk, nonexistent wi-fi, mean staff, disgustingly dirty kitchen, and a broken adapter. Sounds like a great time, right?

At least the bed was decently comfortable, and after a fairly good night's sleep, I was ready to give Glasgow another chance.

But after visiting four of the six recommended attractions before noon, culminating with the Gallery of Modern Art, I arrived at two conclusions:
1. I don't get modern art. I just don't.
2. Glasgow is boring.

Admittedly, neither was a very original conclusion.

That afternoon, I hiked to the other side of town to the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, which was actually fairly interesting. It had a mix of everything, from suits of armor to Impressionist paintings to a stuffed giraffe. However, it only took me two hours to explore the entire museum.

I spent the majority of the next three days holed up in the public library, reading The Casual Vacancy by JK Rowling.

photo courtesy of Wikipedia

I also sampled that Scottish delicacy: haggis. According to Wikipedia: "Haggis is a savoury pudding containing sheep's pluck [whatever that is]; minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, traditionally encased in the animal's stomach." 

Luckily I didn't actually Google it until after I'd eaten it. Though honestly, I can't say I would have recommended it even before I knew what it was made of. 

The most exciting thing that I saw in the city was actually on my way out, when I spotted an old blue police box. My fellow Whovians will understand.

See you never, Glasgow!

Life in the 'burgh (Edinburgh)

Can I just start by saying how much I love traveling by train? It's faster and more comfortable than buses (or coaches or whatever the heck they're called), plus you get to see some amazing scenery. At least, that was the case on my trip from York to Edinburgh, which was mostly along the coastline. We're talking castle ruins, cliffs, and beautiful blue water. It was so gorgeous I wanted to throw up.

Well. That may have been motion-sickness, actually.

First order of business when I got to Edinburgh was finding my hostel, which proved to be surprisingly easy: I walked out of the train station, and there it was. I was glad to find that the mattress was far more comfortable than the one in York, but I was not so glad to see that I was on the middle bunk of a three bed stack. (Sure enough, in my four nights staying there I whacked my head, elbows, knees, you name it on the top bunk more times than I care to count.)

Anyway, after I checked in, I headed for the Christmas market, which I could see from the window of my hostel room.

I think I can safely say that Edinburgh's Christmas market is my favorite of all the Christmas markets that I saw this season. There was so much to do and see, and it was a good balance of food vendors, rides, and shopping. And their music playlist was on point. All in all, I was really feeling the Christmas spirit!

I decided to save some of the Christmas market to explore the next night with my friends from Switzerland. They were coming to Edinburgh the same weekend to check out the Christmas market, and we'd agreed to meet up at the market on Friday night. So I called it a night and headed back to my hostel.

The next morning, I got up pretty early, partially because I'd gone to bed fairly early and was refreshed and ready to get moving, but mostly because I was in a 12-bed female dorm in my hostel, and there was just the one bathroom. In this kind of scenario, you snooze, you really do lose. Half the day will be gone by the time it's your turn to shower unless you shake a leg. It's every woman for herself.

So I was up and moving through the streets of Edinburgh by 8:30am. I wanted to get some exploring in before my free walking tour started at 10:00am.

Some of my favorite facts from the tour included:
--The term "shit-faced" supposedly originated in Edinburgh, after a law was put in place to regulate when chamber pots could be emptied into the streets. The new times were 10:00am and 10:00pm. Now, 10:00pm was also closing time for the city's pubs. So if you were one to stick around from the end of the work day until last call, you were likely to be caught in a shit storm--as it were--when you headed home. Thus, when you arrived home, you were very likely to be "shit-faced." (Unless, of course, your drunken reflexes were superhuman.)
--The Scots were pioneers in home security: the older buildings in Edinburgh have staircases equipped with "Scottish burglar alarms."  These "alarms" consist of a single step in the staircase that is a different size from all of the other steps, designed to trip an intruder creeping around in the dark, as they wouldn't know where the trick step is. Of course, you can imagine that someone coming home shit-faced would be likely to set off the alarm, as well.
--Grave robbing was a major problem in Edinburgh back in the 19th century, though not for the reason you may think. The medical school in the city needed cadavers, and would pay a decent price for any bodies they could get their hands on. Many enterprising people took it upon themselves to meet the demand by digging up the recently deceased. Two men by the names of William Burke and William Hare, took it even farther, murdering people for the sole purpose of selling their bodies to the medical school. When they were caught and convicted, the men were hung and then dissected, with their skeletons placed on display at the Anatomical Museum of Edinburgh Medical School, where their remains remain to this day. 

In addition to this tasteful tales, my Australian tour guide shared information of interest to Potterheads in the audience: he pointed out the Elephant House café, where JK Rowling (an Edinburgher since 1993) wrote most of the first two books in the series. He also showed us Victoria Street, the inspiration for Diagon Alley:

The Original Diagon Alley!

And the two buildings that inspired Hogwarts: Edinburgh Castle and George Heriot's School (founded to educate orphaned boys).

Edinburgh Castle

The George Heriot School

After the tour, of course I had to check out the Elephant House café for myself.

I can see why she liked it. 

Apparently they've had so much Harry-Potter-related graffiti in the bathrooms in the café that they've given up trying to get rid of it:

"This way to the Ministry" LOL

After paying homage to the place where Harry Potter began, I headed to the National Museum of Scotland, where, among other things, I saw Dolly the sheep. That's right, the first critter to be successfully cloned has been taxidermied and is now on display in Edinburgh.

These Scots really have a knack for tasteful museum exhibits, don't they?

After that, it was time to meet my ex-pat friends at the Christmas market! We checked out every stall in the market, debated doing the Christmas tree maze (decided not to because £££), and scoped out the lights display a few streets away. Even though we'd gotten some munchies at the market, we were getting hungry for real food around that time, so we went to Nando's Peri-Peri for dinner.

I know what you're thinking. "I thought you swore off all American chains while in Europe. But you went to Nando's for dinner?" Well, joke's on you, because Nando's was founded in South Africa. So HA. 😝

After that, we wandered back into the Old Town in search of a pub, and ended up right next door to my hostel at the Doric, which was founded in the 17th century, which apparently makes it the oldest gastro pub in Edinburgh.

Casual.

I felt like I was obligated to try Scotch there; to drink anything else would be blasphemous. So I approached the bartender, who did his best to hide his incredulity when I confessed that I'd never had any sort of whisky before. He was kind enough to let me sample a few varieties, and patiently waited out my struggles to describe what I was tasting, until finally we landed on one that I could sip without coughing too much. Slàinte! (That means Cheers.) 

Whisky isn't my cup of tea.

The next day, I wandered down to the bottom of the Royal Mile (the main street in Old Town Edinburgh), where I saw Holyrood Palace, the Queen's official Scottish residence, and the Scottish Parliament. From that vantage point, I could also see Arthur's Seat, the mountain smack dab in the middle of Edinburgh. I wanted to climb it the moment I saw it, but thought better of it, considering that I didn't really have the best mountain-climbing footwear on. But I was determined to reach the summit when I was better dressed for it.

I thought that was the summit. LOL

So I headed back up the Royal Mile, stopping along the way to sample--and subsequently buy--some fudge and to check out a Christmas ornament shop. I also visited the Museum of Edinburgh, which featured a cool bird's-eye-view video showing how the city changed and grew over time, as well as many artifacts found within the city over the years, and silver and glass works created by Edinburgh's craftspeople through the centuries.

Continuing up the Royal Mile, I stopped in St. Giles' Cathedral to have a look around. Having already done a fair bit of walking by that point in the day, I took advantage of the opportunity to sit down for a few minutes while I admired the interior of the church. The pew was surprisingly comfortable, and of course it was pretty quiet in there, so before I knew it, I'd dozed off. I woke up pretty suddenly about ten minutes later when the priest started the noon service.

Oops.

A few "amens" later, I was free to go--good thing weekday services are short. It was pretty evident that I needed coffee, so I headed back to the Elephant House for a cappuccino and some lunch.

Re-energized, I decided to check out the Writer's Museum, which featured exhibits on some of Scotland's most famous writers: Sir Walter Scott, Robert Burns, and Robert Louis Stevenson. They also had, of course, an exhibit about JK Rowling, the highlight of which was a copy of the first edition of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, annotated by JK Rowling herself. Not going to lie, I spent more time looking at that than I did at all the other exhibits combined. Though there was a Stevenson quote that I liked: "For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move."

I spent the next hour wandering in search of a place for dinner. I wasn't really hungry yet, but knowing how long it usually takes me to make up my mind about what I want to eat, I wanted to get an early start and avoid getting hangry if at all possible.

I came across a Mexican place that seemed promising, which was both exciting and surprising. Generally, Europeans aren't big fans of spicy foods, or so I've noticed, so Mexican restaurants are pretty rare, and those that you do come across are generally not that great. But I could smell some spice as soon as I walked in the door, and it smelled good, so I was willing to take the chance.

Man, I almost cried when I took that first bite. Did I mention that I love Mexican food? Because I do.

Yum.

Double yum.

After dinner, I met my Switzerland friends for my first ghost tour. If you know me at all, you know how far outside of my comfort zone that kind of thing usually is. But my comfort zone has gotten a lot bigger on this trip, so I was willing to give it a shot. 

Plus it's not so scary if you go with friends. 

That being said, I was sufficiently spooked by the end of it, so when my friends headed off to their dinner reservation, I made a beeline for my hostel.

The next morning, I made an even earlier start than usual, because I was going on a day tour! Our kilt-wearing guide took us through the Scottish highlands to Glen Coe, one of the most famous and beautiful valleys in Scotland. 

Looks very mist-erious in this picture. 😜

The valley also has quite a sad and violent history: in the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution and the Jacobite uprisings, a plan was hatched to make an example of the MacDonald clan, who had been the last to pledge their allegiance to the new English monarchs. On February 13th, 1692, there was a massacre. It began simultaneously at dawn in three villages throughout Glen Coe. Thirty-eight people were killed by the soldiers, who had been treated as guests by the MacDonalds. Another forty died of exposure and frostbite fleeing the valley after their homes were destroyed. 

Pretty grim stuff for so early in the morning. But the rest of the tour was much more cheerful.

We made a number of other stops on the tour, but the one I was most excited for was Loch Ness. I'm a big Nessie believer, so when we were offered the chance to go on a boat ride on the Loch, you can bet I was the first in line. 

Of course, you can't actually see into the water, I discovered when we were on board. It's literally pitch black; if you were to stick your hand in the water, you wouldn't be able to see it once it was about six inches under. The guide explained that, as the water runs off the surrounding mountains into the loch, it absorbs many of the nutrients from the peat, which gives the water is dark color. 

Even though Nessie didn't put in an appearance, it was still quite a nice cruise on the water. We had beautiful weather for it:

The rainbow was not photoshopped in, I promise. It was the real deal.

When we got back to Edinburgh that evening, I met my friends for a farewell drink at an alehouse called BrewDog, which serves only Scotland's BrewDog beer. A couple of pints later, food was in order, so we headed to a fish and chips place near the B and B my friends were staying in. I decided that I was feeling too adventurous for fish and chips, so I went for the deep-fried Mars bar with ice cream (apparently a local delicacy). 

As you can probably guess, it was a heart attack in every bite, and I regretted it several times over by the time I'd said goodbye to my Switzerland friends and made my way back to my hostel. Talk about going out with a bang. 

The next morning--my last in Edinburgh--I was craving some physical activity to make up for the previous evening's dietary disaster. So I laced up my sneakers and headed to Arthur's Seat.

Even though gusts of wind made me fear for my life at some points, I did make it to the summit, and was rewarded with spectacular views of Edinburgh in every direction. Unfortunately, the wind was even stronger at the summit, and I chose to sacrifice the quality of my photos in the interest of not falling off the mountain. But I got a few that should give you the gist:

Blurry.

Double blurry.

All in all, it was a good way to say goodbye to the city, before hopping on a train to Glasgow.

Of course, if I'd known how boring Glasgow was going to be, I would've stayed in Edinburgh. 

Stay tuned!

Ich Bin Ein Berliner

I really struggled with whether I should "get political" with this post (which is one of the reasons this post took so long). 

I wanted to keep my blog focused on my travels, I wanted it to be a happy place where my readers can come and live vicariously through me and my adventures.

But truthfulness is very important to me as well; that's why I relate my mishaps as well as my triumphs here. It's all part of my experience. So, in the interest of truthfulness, I have to talk a little bit about the presidential election and my thoughts and feelings about it, because they did play a part in my experience in Berlin.

I hope this won't deter anyone from reading this post, but if it does, well, I hope you have a nice day. I can't blame you for being sick of all the political talk.

For those who are sticking with me...

I went to sleep in Berlin pretty early in the evening of November 8th. I slept pretty well, secure in the belief that, though it would be a close race, in the end Hillary Clinton would be our 45th President, not Donald Trump.

I woke up in a very different world than the one I went to sleep in. I checked the election results and felt as if the floor had fallen out from under me. I felt so very wrong-footed and naïve for having believed that there was no way my fellow Americans would really choose Trump and his hateful, divisive rhetoric, no matter how appealing his attitude towards economic reform.

I was scared to leave my hostel room and face the people from other countries. In my travels, every European, every Asian, every Australian that I've spoken to has expressed their dislike for and fear of Donald Trump. I was afraid of how I would be judged as an American now that Trump was our President-elect.

But I made myself go out into the city anyway, making a little extra effort to blend in. I headed to the Brandenburg Gate, where my free walking tour would depart at 10am. I was a little early, and I was shocked to see a crowd of reporters all around the square, until I noticed that all of the cameras were pointed at the American embassy.

At the Brandenburg Gate bright and early

I joined the group of people waiting for the tour, and got to chatting with the tour guide, another friendly Australian who, upon discovering that I was American, half-jokingly offered me the Canadian flag pin he wore. But he was sympathetic to me, apparently the only American brave enough to show up that day, and promised to hold off on making his usual jokes about the US on his tour.

There is a lot of history in Berlin, including of course the Berlin Wall. (Which was actually comprised of an inner wall and an outer wall, with the area in between known as the "death strip," for reasons which should be fairly obvious.) The tour guide related several stories of escape from East Berlin to West, including one family who crossed the wall using a makeshift zipline. In making their getaway, the family was observed by guards at the Wall, who didn't shoot at the escapees because they thought that surely they were East German spies sneaking over to West Berlin for reconnaissance.

We also visited Checkpoint Charlie, the site of a standoff between Soviet troops and American troops during the Berlin Wall era, a standoff that nearly heated up the Cold War into World War 3. Checkpoint Charlie was destroyed when the Berlin Wall came down, but was rebuilt and manned with actors to meet the demands of tourists to Berlin who wanted to see it.

It was funny that my first day in Berlin was the 9th of November. As the tour guide explained, November 9th has earned the nickname Schickalstag, or "Day of Fate," a bit of black humor among Germans. Apparently almost everything of significance in Germany occurs on this date. For example:
--1848: Robert Blum, a major player in the push for German democracy, was executed (which put a damper on the democratic movement for a while)
--1918: Kaiser Wilhelm II abdicated, and the Weimar Republic was established, unifying Germany
--1923: Munich Beer Hall Putsch, the first, unsuccessful attempt by the National Socialist (Nazi) Party to seize power in Munich
--1938: Kristallnacht, or the Night of Broken Glass
--1989: the Berlin Wall opens, reuniting East Berlin and West Berlin

After the tour, I made my way to the Ritter Sport store, which was a mistake. Why? Because Ritter Sport is chocolate and I hadn't eaten lunch. I managed not to lose my head completely and demonstrated admirable restraint in not spending €8 to design my own chocolate bar. That being said, I did still drop a decent chunk of change there (but mostly on gifts, I swear).

So. Much. Chocolate.

I then decided that lunch should be the next item on my agenda, so I found an Imbiss (the German equivalent of a hot-dog stand) and managed not only to order a bratwurst and fries, but also to make small talk with the woman working the Imbiss, entirely in German! 🎉

You can't tell me that doesn't make your mouth water.

Next stop was the Topography of Terror, a museum located near the longest remaining segment of the outer Berlin Wall. The Topography of Terror features exhibits about what life was truly like in Berlin under the Nazi regime, and some of the reasoning behind the strategies that the Nazis used.

Pretty heavy stuff, so, as I'm sure you can imagine, I felt like my day was pretty much done after that. I walked back across town to my hostel, stopping to grab a salad for dinner on the way (my body was really jonesing for some veggies after the bratwurst and fries).

After a night of tossing and turning, I got up and went for a run (both for my sanity and to put the brakes on my downward spiral into out-of-shapeness).

I ran through Berlin's main park, the Tiergarten, and found myself at the foot of the Victoria statue.

It was then, taking a short stretching break in the shadow of the monument, that I noticed the sole of my right running shoe was peeling away from the upper. That, combined with the stench emanating from my shoes when I pulled them off three kilometers later, made me think that maybe I should invest in a new pair of running shoes.

Luckily, my German was sufficient enough to navigate the shoe section of a department store without incident, and I emerged half an hour later with clearance-rack Asics. Score.

My mission for footwear successfully accomplished, I meandered around the city in the sunshine, stopping to grab some Chinese food for a late lunch/early dinner as it got dark. It was a bit of a hike back to my hostel from where I'd wandered to, so I had to make a pit stop for provisions (coffee and some sort of chocolate-caramel-almond concoction) on my way.

By the time I got back to my hostel, I was feeling the need to socialize, so I headed downstairs to my hostel's bar, where I got myself a liter of beer--because Germany--and introduced myself to a couple of people who clearly shared my opinion that a stein of beer sounded good.

A liter of beer makes for a great conversation starter, or so I'm learning.

I spent most of the next day at the Berlin Zoo, which has over 20,500 individual animals of 1,500 different species, making it the most diverse zoo in the world.

I had a blast.

My inner child was thrilled to be outside looking at animals of all shapes and sizes, rather than inside staring at more boring paintings and fiddly things behind glass in yet another museum. I stayed at the zoo from open to close.

Llamas! (Or maybe alpacas. I forget.)

Fish face!

The next day, I'd planned to do an "alternative" tour of the city, featuring some of the hot spots for graffiti and the more hipster bars in Berlin. But when I arrived 15 minutes before the tour was scheduled to begin, I was told that the tour was completely booked up. Though I was glad to have an excuse not to shell out 13 Euros, I was a bit crestfallen. I perked up, though, when the tour guide offered to mark on my map some of the more interesting stops on the tour route, so I could check them out on my own.

One of those places was the East Side Gallery. After only a brief detour through a street market (I was distracted by the shiny things), I headed to the metro station. Thinking ahead, I purchased two tickets--one for the ride there, and one for the ride back--and jetted off to a new part of the city.

The East Side Gallery is the longest remaining section of the inner Berlin Wall, which has now been converted into a street art gallery. I spent almost two hours walking along the wall, studying the graffiti and murals, some of which have been there for almost three decades now, and many of which were painted by local art students. Here are a few of my favorites:

My plan then was to head back towards my hostel, and get off a stop early to walk by one of the other places suggested by the tour guide. So I walked toward the nearest metro station, and just barely managed to catch the next train going the direction that I needed.

If only I'd waited seven minutes for the next one.

In my rush to catch the train, I'd forgotten to validate my second metro ticket. I didn't realize this until a ticket inspector came around at the stop before the one I was getting off at.

With a sinking feeling in my stomach and tears welling up in my eyes, I produced my unvalidated ticket, and was asked to step off the train. On the platform, I pulled out the ticket that I had remembered to validate earlier that day, and, in a rush of tears, explained my mistake. The guy was extremely nice and very sympathetic, and probably would have let me off with a warning, had his supervisor not been standing right there. So, hiccuping through my tears, I coughed up the €60 fine.

After the ticket inspectors had departed on another train, I collapsed onto a bench to try to pull myself together. Out of the corner of my tear-filled eye, I saw an elderly couple approach. Apparently they'd witnessed the entire incident, and wanted to help me out. After one polite refusal, I gratefully accepted the €30 (and the tissue) that they offered.

I opted for the long way back to my hostel, on foot, through the Tiergarten. I needed it to calm down. I also needed a beer, so I ordered one with my kebap when I finally got to the block where my hostel was located.

Exhausted by the turn my day had taken, I went to bed pretty early that night. Which was also a good decision because I had an early train back to Bad Kreuznach the next day. It was time for a few days at my home away from home before my next adventure: Paris!

Dam! This City is Cool

I bet you can guess what our first breath of Amsterdam air smelled like.

That's right: the sweet, sweet smell of freedom.

Our heads perhaps slightly muddled by a second-hand high, Evan and I managed to navigate the metro to Amsterdam Centraal, where we caught a ferry across the harbor to our hostel, which turned out to be the best hostel that I've stayed in yet in my travels. It was a big hostel, with great facilities (including a kitchen, bar, and outlets/lights at each comfortable bed), a good location (close to the city, but quiet at night), and fantastic staff (super friendly, and extremely helpful in the event of a mishap...yup, learned that one first-hand).

We checked in, put down our backpacks, and said a brief hello to our Canadian roommates before Evan and I had to dash to catch a ferry back across the harbor. Why the hurry? Well, it turns out that, in high school, Evan had a couple of Dutch friends, and since they were now all in the same country again, we were meeting them for dinner.

With a little help from Google Maps, we found our way to the restaurant, which wasn't too far off the main shopping street (already decked out with Christmas lights), and met Evan's friends: two sisters, one of whom lives in Amsterdam. We had a round of Belgian beers while the old friends caught up. When the waitress came back to ask, for the third time, if we were ready to order, the other three ordered various schnitzels. Thanks to the substantial amount of time I'd spent in Germany and Austria the previous month, I'd had my fill of schnitzel for a while, so I ordered my first steak in three years.

After dinner, the sisters showed us a little bit of the city, and introduced us to stroopwafels, those marvelous Dutch sweets. Holy cannoli, those things are addictive. I easily ate a dozen a day during my time in the Netherlands. Crispy waffles, filled with gooey caramel goodness...just thinking about them right now makes me want to catch a train back to Amsterdam instead of heading to Berlin today.

Anyway.

After a few more Belgian beers at a canalside table, Evan and I said good night and found our way back to the hostel.

Even Amsterdam knows that Bruges' beer is better.

The next day, we consulted TripAdvisor to help us find a good breakfast place. We had just about settled on an omelette place with a 4-star rating, and would have headed there for breakfast, had the next name on the list been anything other than "Bagels & Beans." As soon as we read the word "bagels," Evan and I knew that was where we were going. Bagels are one of the foods that both of us have missed the most since leaving the US.

Don't get me wrong, Europe does a lot of foods better than the US does, especially baked goods. But one thing that has been conspicuously absent from European bakeries is bagels. And if you know me, you know that there was a time--not so long ago--when I ate bagels for two meals out of every day.

To make a long soliloquy short, we went to Bagels & Beans, which had not only some pretty solid bagels, but also a spectacular view of the harbor. They also had ginormous coffees, including a mochaccino served in a cup as big as my head.

A restaurant after my own heart.

After breakfast, we poked around the main shopping street, where we discovered a deceptively narrow entrance to a large and ornately decorated church. We came to the conclusion that the church was strategically placed so that shoppers can come and pray to win the lottery, that way they can actually afford to shop on that street.

We then stumbled upon the famous flower market along one of the canals. This market boasts a mind-boggling array of Dutch tulip bulbs (I had no idea there were so many varieties!). Of course, not much was in bloom, given the time of year, but Evan managed to buy me a tulip anyway.

We cute.

Then it was time for our walking tour! In an effort to prevent hangriness from striking mid-tour, we grabbed a couple of hot ham-and-cheese baguettes on our way to the meeting point.

On the tour, we learned that the elevation of Amsterdam is about 3 meters below sea-level. The only reason that the city even exists is that those crazy Dutch literally built the land, using sea walls to hold back the water, before they put the buildings on it. (That's how the city got its name: from the dam that blocked the Amstel river.) We also learned that, even though Dutch tulips are world-famous, tulips were not native to the Netherlands; tulips originally came from Turkey.

And, of course, the tour guide showed us Amsterdam's famous red-light district, centered around the oldest church in the city. You may find this ironic--I definitely did--but, apparently, way back when Amsterdam first started out as a trading port, the church and the "ladies of the night" had quite the symbiotic relationship:

--The ladies used the church bells to time their "work shifts." The bells sounded every fifteen minutes, which made it very easy for the women to keep track of the time that their customers had paid for.

--At that time, the Catholic practice of "indulgences" was in full effect; sinners could make a donation to the church in exchange for forgiveness of their sins. At the conclusion of every "business transaction," the ladies would send their customers to the church to be forgiven for their sins. The church, in turn, would give a cut of their profits to the women.

The tour was very educational! 

After the tour, we went to a grocery store for dinner ingredients and to replenish our supply of stroopwafels. We also popped into a souvenir shop. I've been collecting postcards from every city that I visit (they're cheap souvenirs, very lightweight and packable, unlike the Oktoberfest stein that was my Munich souvenir). Evan, meanwhile, has made stickers his signature souvenir (also lightweight and packable, though occasionally more difficult to find). 

Souvenir shopping done, we went back to the hostel, where we took over one of the four kitchens to make pasta. (Yay for saving money!)

The next morning, Evan caught an early flight back to Rennes for class. I caught a couple more hours of sleep, then headed off to the Van Gogh Museum, one of the things that I had been most excited to get to Amsterdam to see.

What an AMAZING museum.

Obviously, there were paintings by Van Gogh everywhere, but there were also letters (both written by him and written to him), paintings by many of his artist friends and influences, and paintings by those influenced by him. There were also some of his original sketchbooks and painting equipment.

All of this was organized in such a way that really led me through Van Gogh's life and career as an artist, and I left the museum not only having seen many of my favorite paintings in person, but also with a better understanding of my favorite artist.

If you get the chance, I HIGHLY recommend visiting the Van Gogh Museum for yourself. 

Couldn't take any pictures inside, so here's one of the outside!

It was well past lunchtime by the time I left the museum, so I made my way back to Bagels & Beans for an XL-cappuccino and a bagel sandwich (I had to get my fix while I could). 

I wandered back along the main shopping street, which was a mistake: I fell in love with a coat that would have been beyond my price range even if I had an income right now. While searching for a knock-off version that I could actually afford, I discovered that late-90s/early-2000s fashions are alive and well, at least in Amsterdam: almost every store I went into had denim skirts.

The next day found me in Giethoorn, a teeny (we're talking one-grocery-store teeny) little canal town about three hours by train from Amsterdam. (Okay, fine, it's two hours if you actually pay attention and don't miss the stop where you were supposed to change trains.)

Since it's no longer the big tourism season, it was pretty quiet in Giethoorn. Nonetheless, I managed to keep busy by wandering around town, crossing dozens of bridges over the network of canals that serve as roads, and endlessly snapping pictures of the unbelievably-cute, thatched-roof houses.

This is my "I can't believe this place exists" face.

Later in the afternoon, I rented a kayak and took myself on a tour around the parts of town only accessible by watercraft. I also paddled to the lake, which, aside from the ducks who--based on their panicked quacks--were as afraid I'd capsize as I was, was incredibly still and peaceful.

For my last day in the Netherlands, I had a ticket to the Anne Frank House. Evan and I had planned to go together on Monday, but when we went online to get tickets ahead of time (rather than stand in line for 3+ hours), they were completely sold out, not only for Monday, but for every day for the next few weeks! Apparently tickets are booked typically a month in advance...whoops. Luckily for me, on Monday night, someone cancelled their tickets for Friday morning, so I was able to snag one.

I'd been to the Anne Frank House once before, when my family visited Europe eight years ago. But that was before I had read the diary of Anne Frank. This time, walking through the rooms in which the Frank family, with four other people, had hidden for two years during World War II, held much more meaning. It's really something that everyone should visit in person.

After my morning in the museum, I was feeling pretty subdued, so I just wandered around Amsterdam for a while. I briefly stopped into a different Bagels & Beans for lunch, and when it started to rain an hour later, I ducked into a bookstore for cover.

Fortuitously, it turned out to be the American Book Center in Amsterdam; four wondeful floors of books and magazines that I could actually read! It was perfect, because I'd run short of new reading material--carrying around a bunch of books isn't exactly conducive to packing light--so I whiled away a couple of hours browsing, eventually becoming engrossed in Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Johnathan Safran Foer. Have any of you ever read that? I bought the paperback, making use of the student discount that the shop offered, and I'm in the middle of it now...it's a great read so far.

Anyway, I guess my mind was still in my book when I got back to the hostel, because I somehow managed to lock my keys in my locker. 

Yup. I guess it was about time for another mishap. 

The girl from reception and I both tried our hand with the bolt-cutters, to no avail. A little while later, the good-natured bar manager--who was a rather brawny fellow--arrived, complimented the sturdiness of my padlock, then proceeded to bust it open in a matter of seconds. 

Bless.

The rest of the evening was spent packing up my newly-liberated backpack, ready for an early departure the next morning. I was Copenhagen-bound!

I Feel Pretty Neutral About Switzerland

Well...that's not quite true. It would be more accurate to say that I have mixed feelings about Switzerland. So let's just say that the positive ones cancel out the negative ones and leave me feeling neutral, because that makes for a witty title.

But even that isn't completely truthful.

The truth is that, in spite of what I have decided to refer to as "The Series of Unfortunate Events" (a.k.a. Expensive Swiss Mishaps 1, 2, and 3), I loved Switzerland.

Switzerland is the grumpy old cat that hates being touched, and scratches anyone who comes near it. And I am the child who insists on picking it up and hugging it anyway.

Switzerland is beautiful--I would say that it's almost as beautiful as Iceland, but in a completely different way. Iceland had a raw, rugged beauty in its landscapes, all natural, and all its own. Much of Switzerland's beauty comes from its natural features, like rivers and lakes so clear and blue that you think you've landed in a fairytale. Or how about the Swiss freaking Alps? Even standing right on top of one of them, looking out at three more right in front of me, I almost couldn't believe they were real.

But some of Switzerland's beauty also comes from humankind's additions to the land, like the miles of vibrantly green farmland and wide open meadows, with cute little houses enhancing, rather than detracting from, the scenery. Ugh. those adorable little Alpine towns, nestled into valleys, reflected in those perfect lakes, or cut right into the mountainsides...even Swiss cows were the cutest stinking cows that I'd ever seen.

The cities that I visited all had buildings dating back to medieval times, many with intricate frescoes between their windows, others painted bright, happy colors, and I swear every window had its own little flower garden.

I could go on and on about how beautiful Switzerland is, but let's fast-forward to the part where I tell you what I did while I was there (besides lose all of my money).

Halfway through my train ride from Munich to Zurich, my train pulled into a station on a peninsula on the Bodensee. Which meant that, when we pulled out of the station a few minutes later, my carefully-selected, forward-facing seat now faced backwards. So when my train arrived in Zurich two hours later, I was feeling a wee bit queasy. Nonetheless, I found my way to the official meeting point in the Zurich Hauptbahnhof with little difficulty. (It helped that there was a giant sign with the universal symbol for "meeting point" on it.) There, I finally officially met the fraternity Brother who--via Facebook--had offered to host me during my stay in Zurich. After a quick stop in the train station's mad house of a grocery store (being one of the only stores in the city open on a Sunday has its hazards), we hopped on the S9 train to Schwerzenbach, the suburb of Zurich where my friend lived.

That evening, I had the first home-cooked (and also maybe the first vegetarian) meal I'd had in three weeks. I didn't realize how much I'd missed home cooking until I was swooning over the first bite of risotto and roasted root veggies.

I also hadn't realized just how much I'd missed the American way of making beds until I was snug under the covers that night--after watching both the Browns (my hosts' team) and the Ravens (my team) lose. Don't get me wrong, European beds are comfy, but when you've had a top sheet between you and your comforter your whole life, you can't quite get used to just having the comforter.

Between the food, the football, and the bedding--not to mention my awesome ex-pat hosts!--I was feeling pretty at home in Switzerland from the get-go, and I was ready to get out and explore Zurich the next morning. In the morning mist, I roamed around, finding my way to the old town, and then parked myself on a bench to enjoy the sight of the sun breaking through the clouds over the lake. 

At 11:00, I met up with a group of people at Paradeplatz for--you guessed it--a free walking tour of the city. My tour guide was a native Zuricher, currently a student at the university. Some of my favorite stories from the tour:

--Near the end of the 13th century, the city of Zurich's army set out to capture a neighboring city. The leader of another nearby city caught wind of this, and sought to capture Zurich in its army's absence. The women of the city saw the oncoming army, and, led by a woman named Hedwig, dressed up in armor and stood atop the city wall, which led the would-be invaders to believe that the city was still defended by its army. So they about-faced and headed back home.

--When Tina Turner (now a Swiss citizen residing in Zurich) got married to Erwin Bach in 2013, she invited all of her celebrity friends to the ceremony, including the one and only Oprah. Oprah apparently decided to do some shopping while in town, and selected a purse at an expensive boutique in the old town. The sales clerk, who apparently had no idea who Oprah was (!), suggested that she should perhaps look at some purses more within her price range. As if there is anything out of Oprah's price range. 

After the tour, I popped up one of the two towers of one of the Grossmünster church for a great view over the city.

I then met up with my friend, accompanied by her faithful hound, and we went to a vegetarian restaurant for lunch, where my single plate of animal-product-free foods set me back 25 Francs ($27 USD). Eek!

Deciding on the spot that I needed to save some money, I opted for nice, free tap water as my beverage. Of course, after lunch, saving money went out the window as my friend took me on a tour around some of Switzerland's famous chocolate shops.

The first one we checked out was Sprüngli, which is known not only for its chocolate, but also for its Luxemburgerli, which are tiny macarons, traditionally comprised of two almond meringues with buttercream filling in between. They were invented in the 1950s by a guy from Luxembourg, who had originally called them "foam kisses." Of course, the blushing young ladies who frequented the shops back then weren't so bold as to ask for "foam kisses," so they referred to them as Luxemburgerli, and the name stuck.

I'd never had a macaron before, so I was super excited when the smiling lady behind the counter offered us free samples of the seasonal flavor (walnut and plum brandy) as a reward for our attempts to speak German. It was love at first bite. I. Am. Obsessed. But in the interest of saving some funds for the rest of the chocolate tour, I limited myself to buying only four Luxemburgerli to take with me: raspberry, mandarin, chocolate, and gold champagne (because I'm fancy like that).

Next up was Teuscher, which had some pretty spectacular Halloween decorations up in their store, plus lots of seasonally-shaped confections. Two flavors of chocolate caught my eye: chocolate and chili (always a tasty and unique combination), and chocolate with pink pepper (I don't know about you, but I had never even heard of pink pepper before). I picked up a bar of each.

Stop number three was Honold Confiserie, which had not only chocolates, but also a mouthwatering array of cakes, cookies, and other treats, each of which was intricately decorated, and each of which had a mini-heart attack of a price tag. I selected a variety of small chocolates, including a dark chocolate truffle, a milk chocolate truffle, a mocha chocolate, a caramel chocolate, and an absinthe-filled chocolate bean (because I'd never tried absinthe, and it piqued my curiosity).

The fourth and final shop that we visited was Läderach, which is known for its chocolate slabs, made fresh every day. These slabs of chocolate (both milk chocolate and dark) are available in a mind-boggling assortment of flavors. You can choose how big of a piece you want broken off of the slab, and you then pay by weight. The flip sides of the slabs are helpfully labeled with the flavor, and of course the name Läderach, in edible gold ink. Which makes it easier when you get home and can't recall which flavors you picked out. I opted for dark chocolate Florentine, which was topped with candied almond slivers, and milk chocolate with crystalized honey in it.

With that, the chocolate tour came to an end, and my friend and her dog and I wandered around the old town until my friend remembered a vet appointment that they were supposed to be at, and dashed off. I meandered around town for a while as the sun started to set, then stopped in a department store to warm up.

Until that point, I hadn't really grasped how expensive Switzerland is. We're talking markups on a movie-theater concession-stand scale. NFL-stadium-at-playoffs sized profit margins. On everything, everywhere. To give you some perspective: trial-size toiletries (you know, the teeny-tiny little shampoos and whatnot) were priced, on average, at 2.79 Francs. That's about $3.00 USD. Just in case you're out of touch with how much those things usually cost: you can get them at Target for 97 cents.

Anywho, shortly thereafter, Expensive Swiss Mishap #1 took place. If you missed that post, go read it now, because I'm going to pick up where it left off.

At that point, I was really in need of a pick-me-up, so I broke into my Honold chocolates and started with the absinthe-filled chocolate bean. Ahh, absinthe...what an enticing name, what a disgusting flavor (unless you relish the taste of black licorice, which I absolutely despise). As you can imagine, that didn't really improve my mood. But the mocha chocolate that I chose next made me feel much better. If you know me at all, this won't come as a surprise...you know what miracles chocolate and coffee can work on my mood.

When I made it back to Schwerzenbach a little later, I was already looking at the bright side of my mishap--if nothing else, it's a funny story for you people to read--but I still appreciated the sympathy that my friends offered. I also appreciated the cheesy deliciousness that was dinner. No, not fondue...raclette! It's a very Swiss meal; it's basically reverse fondue. You heat up the cheese until it's all melty and gooey and wonderful, and then scrape it onto whatever you have on your plate (in our case, that was roasted broccoli and potatoes, bread, and bacon).  Helloooo, new favorite food!

 I capped off my evening by finally eating those four Luxemburgerli that I'd been thinking about all day. I'd been tempted to crack them open earlier, but I was glad that I saved them for the very end of the day. I had sweet dreams of Swiss junk food that night. (Yes, that pun was intended, and no, I will not apologize for it.)

On Tuesday, I was ready to turn over a new leaf in Switzerland. Based on my friends' recommendation, I had a day trip planned to Fribourg/Freiburg and to Bern, and I was hoping these cities would be kinder to me than Zurich had been the day before. I validated my public-transit day pass and hopped on a train to Fribourg/Freiburg.

Why the two spellings? Great question! I'm glad you asked...

Switzerland has four official languages: German (very different from the German that they speak in Germany), French (very different from the French that they speak in France), Italian (very different from the Italian that they speak in Italy), and Romansh (very different from the Latin that it started out as). Fribourg/Freiburg is located right where the German-speaking and French-speaking parts of Switzerland meet. Of course, I didn't realize this until I got there and the announcement on the train played in French, then German, then English. I thought I'd gotten on the wrong train for a minute.

Fribourg/Freiburg has a very old Old Town. Most of the houses in that part of town have been there since the Middle Ages. I had a great time just roaming along the lanes that went up and down the hills, back and forth across the river, and along the crumbling city wall. I spent the whole morning there, doing nothing in particular but wandering and taking pictures and acquiring an embarrassing damp patch on my jeans from sitting on a bench that I had failed to notice was wet.

Around 1:00, I hopped on a train to get to Bern. I made a beeline for the river, where I was once again wonderstruck by how clear and blue the water was. Even though these rivers of Alpine origin run right through major Swiss cities, the water is easily clean enough to swim in (though it was a bit too chilly that day for me to feel inclined to do so).

As I explored the streets of Bern, the clouds rolled in, and I took cover in a café, where I enjoyed a cappucino and some sort of chocolate cake with Bailey's in it while I waited for the rain to relent. The clouds stuck around, but the rain was barely a drizzle when I headed out to the Rose Gardens, where my favorite pastime--a free walking tour--was scheduled to begin at 5:00. I got there early, but almost missed the start of the tour when I got caught up with smelling the last of the blooms.

I was glad I didn't miss the tour, because I learned a lot of fun facts abour Bern on the tour, including:
--According to local lore, Bern is named for bears, apparently the first animal that the founder of the city encountered on a hunt when he arrived in the area. Bears have been kept in capitvity in the city since shortly after its founding in the 12th century (though their habitats have become far more humane since then).
--Swiss street signs are usually blue, but in Bern, each district has its own color street signs, including green, yellow, and red, as well as blue. Apparently, when Napoleon took over the city at the end of the 18th century, his troops took advantage of the city's substantial wine stores. The drunken soldiers (understandably) had some trouble finding their way home at night, so the colors of the street signs were changed to make it easier for the soldiers to navigate.
--A major step towards modern chocolate was made in Bern in 1879, when Rudolphe Lindt accidentally left his chocolate mixer running overnight. In the morning, he discovered that the constant mixing of the chocolate for extended periods made it incredibly smooth (up until that time, chocolate had a very gritty, rather unappealing texture). Bam! Chocolate became delicious.
--Speaking of chocolate, you probably knew that Toblerone is Swiss chocolate. You may have even made the connection between the iconic mountain logo and the Matterhorn, Switzerland's most famous Alp. But what you may not have noticed is that, within that mountain logo, there is also the image of a bear. That's because when Theodor Tobler invented Toblerone in 1908, he was very proud to do so in Bern, the city of the bear.

Da bears.

That tour was chock-full of interesting facts, in spite of the fact that it wrapped up a little early because of the cold and the dark, not to mention the return of the rain. I wasn't too upset about it, though, because it gave me time to pop into one of Bern's famous basement bars before I caught my train back to Schwerzenbach.

All in all, by the time I got back, I was feeling pretty good about my mishap-free day, and was super pumped to get to the Alps on Wednesday.

Of course, my optimistic outlook was toast when Swiss Mishap #2 struck. I'll wait while you read that one.

All caught up? Good.

The Alps. Oh my Lanta. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so, here, have a few thousand words:

Eigen, Mönch, and Jungfrau in the background.

The mountain that I went up was called Schilthorn, and it took quite an elaborate series of trains, cable cars, and funiculars to get there. My journey took me through Mürren, one of the most adorable Alpine towns you can imagine.

Schilthorn also happens to be where many of the scenes from "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" (a James Bond movie, starring George Lazenby as 007) was filmed. The building that they used is now a tourist attraction at the summit of the mountain, featuring a Bond museum.

There's also a thrill walk:

I took a picture of the kid in front of me on this one so my phone could stay safely in my pocket while I did it. 

I didn't go on this one. I was afraid that my sweaty hands would stick to the metal and I'd be stuck out there.

Just several thousand feet above the ground, with only some chain-link or Plexi-glass between me and plummeting to my death. You know. Casual. 

On my way back down, I stopped in Mürren for a cappucino and some apfelstrudel, with a side of the Alps. 

By the time I'd made my way back to my friends' house that evening, I'd forgotten the mishaps of the morning, and was still feeling in awe of the Alps. I was also feeling a little sunburned, since I hadn't even thought about applying sunscreen that day (never underestimate that glare off the snow).

My friends then introduced me to another Swiss food: meringues, dipped in unsweetened whipped cream. Sounds kind of weird, but I've been hit with a hardcore craving for it several times since. Yum.

A pretty dang fantastic day, I think, even with the morning's misadventure.

The next day began with an exciting morning of...laundry. That's what happens when you travel for a month, and your wardrobe is limited to what fits in your backpack. 

Once my clothes were clean, I packed them into my backpack and set off for the train station. I still had one more night in Zurich, but I had to switch to a hostel for the evening, because my hosts were headed to Madrid for a long weekend! 

Of course, my last full day in Switzerland wouldn't be complete without another mishap. 

Once I had sufficiently recovered from that one, with a little help from a cappucino and a chocolate lava cake at a riverside café, I checked into my hostel, which was up four flights of stairs from the street level, and above not one, but two restaurants' kitchens. I settled in to the rather cozy (that's the nice way of saying "too small to turn around in without bumping into someone or something") but comfortable room, then hopped on yet another train to check out the waterfall in Neuhausen. My hosts had suggested it, with the caveat that, if I'd seen Niagara Falls, I wouldn't be impressed. I haven't, but I did see the Gulfoss waterfall when I was in Iceland, so I wasn't blown away by this particular waterfall. But I somehow managed to enjoy hiking around it anyway.

Upon returning to my hostel that evening, I headed up to the rooftop terrace to watch the sun set over the city while I wrote some postcards. I hit the hay early so that I could be sure I wouldn't oversleep and miss my train the next day (it seemed likely, in light of all the other mishaps I'd had).

Spoiler alert: against all odds, my departure from Switzerland the next day went smoothly.

On my way to the train station, I caught sight of this guy. Well, I heard him first, obviously.

Not exactly sure why he was playing an Alphorn in the middle of the city at 9:00AM, but it made me smile on my morning walk to the Hauptbahnhof, regardless. 

In the train station, I found that I had some time to kill before my train. So I stopped into Sprüngli to spend my last 5 Francs. There, I picked out four more Luxemburgerli to eat on the train. I wanted my last taste of Switzerland to be sweet.