In the bathroom, most likely European
Oct 16 '02
The Bottom Line The road trip itinerary is great for getting a little bit of everything. There were some places I LOATHED, but didn't have to loathe for long! : D
Okay. So when you're in the bathroom, not always you're a-peein'. Enough said.
I'm not going to suggest an itinerary; I'm merely going to tell you about my European "road trip," and hopefully my experiences will prove helpful to you. My view is that -- and especially if you've never traveled in a foreign country -- that having a little bit of everything might be best. If you love a place; go back. If you hate it? Just tolerate it for a couple more days. There are some things that are "European" culture that you may love or may feel stuck with (like things are more laid back; they take their time. Dinner may take you an hour and a half or so, whereas in the United States you scarf it down in half an hour and try and get on with your hurried and harried lives), and then there are things that Germans do and things that Belgians do. You might like the variety and may feel grateful for the respite.
First! We went in the middle of March, which is generally considered the end of the "off season," when rates are lower in both hotels and for airfare. AND when spring is a bit more advanced than we're used to. We flew with Iceland Air (excellent company) for a mere $340 round trip. We departed from Boston and landed in Reykjavik to change planes and to fly on to Luxembourg. Actually, changing planes was good because we were a little more than halfway and I welcomed the opportunity to stretch my legs. The other perk was flying over Greenland and seeing all of the snow and icebergs.
Germany
We landed in Luxembourg, rented our car, and made our way into Germany. We stopped in Trier, a small city with traces of Roman architecture. I read somewhere that this is the first German city "taken" by the allied troops in WWII. There is a ruined coliseum and Porta Nigra a charcoal colored Roman structure, something like an arch/city gate. We went into a cathedral and looked around, but that was about it.
We drove onward to Bernkastel-Kues, twin towns on the Mosel river. We chose to stay in Bernkastel at the Dur Poste Inn, a homey and beautiful place with down comforters and watercolor paintings on the walls. Their queen sized beds were two twin beds in a queen sized frame so you have the luxury of sleeping WITH your loved one and the advantage of being undisturbed. They had a free breakfast -- quite a lavish affair of boiled eggs, toast and jam, bacon, ham, sausage, fruit, orange juice, coffee ... Oh, how we stuffed ourselves!
Now, Bernkastel was so quiet at night that when my then-boyfriend and I went for a walk outside, we found ourselves whispering. The best way to characterize Bernkastel is to describe its cobblestones, half-timbred houses, steep hills impaled with vine posts, and a ruined castle high above town which is illuminated at night and looks like it's gold and floating in the sky. Enough said?
The posts on the hills are owned by local families and from what we could gather most families have a plot that they tend to for making wine. I saw a mural outside of a weingarten depicting a woman with a wine glass surrounded by a wreath or grapes and leaves and below it said "Wein ist leiben" (Wine is life); I think that sums up their attitude.
Now Bernkastel-Kues is probably not what a visitor to Germany is looking for necessarily; however I was. It's neither a cultural mecca dotted with "must see museums," nor is it brimming with nightlife and excitement. In fact they seemed to roll their carpets up pretty early there and it was the weekend. Furthermore our hotel locked its front door at 11 PM so we had to go through a bit of a song and dance to get back in. But I feel like I got a strong sense of the small town Germany. It was quite nice.
We went up to the ruined castle that overlooks the town. There's not much to do up there and I must confess it's not worth the curvy, crooked drive up the mountain to see it; it looks much prettier from the ground at night. There is a restaurant up there now (it was closed for my visit), and a nice, virtually aerial view of the town. It's a great photo op. Plus you can see the wine posts up close. At the time of our visit they were just posts with withered traces of vines scrolled over them; I imagine it's absolutely gorgeous in the summer.
We went to the gift shop and bought steins, then to the chocolate shop. I drank my last Bitburger beer and we started our drive to Amsterdam.
On the way we stopped to see a castle. It looked something like Cinderella's castle with the pointed towers, but had red half-timbers. It had a distinct chateau appearance with a draw-bridge. We had to walk for about an hour (total) and it was closed to visitors for renovations.
Netherlands
We arrived in Amsterdam and stayed at The Botel Hotel (a boat hotel). The rooms were very small--as they naturally are on a boat--but formidable.
The first day we walked around and got a feel for the place. As the day turned into dusk, we went to the Red Light District for our first glimpse. There was a mixed crowd: drunken frat boys, middle aged tourists, couples, singles, shady characters, junkies, cops, and us. We also went to the Sex Museum (on the outskirts of the district). In the Sex Museum they have erotic displays (DUH!) of ancient pottery, antique tapestries, posters, videos, paintings, china... you name it! So then, of course I had to go to a bar and grab myself a Heiney!
We were rather cheap and found the most affordable and often the best meals were to be had in the bars there. This was actually the advice people gave me before I went to England (to eat in pubs) and it applied in Amsterdam. In one place we had Pizza Tropicale: it had ham, pineapple, and ... BANANAS! VERY good, though.
A place you should not miss is the Anne Frank House. It's depressing, inspiring, haunting, educational... just a myriad of different sensations. You can read the book and think the bookcase was a good idea. And then you can go and actually see it and think it an ingenious idea! It's just remarkable. You can see her pictures hanging up in her room, including the pictures of "Princess" Elizabeth that she mentions in her diary. There are windows covered with black material to maintain their privacy. One is opened just a crack and a caption states that young Anne often put her face up to this crack to deeply inhale her small sips of fresh air.
There are TV's that run tapes of interviews with her father. In one he breaks down and becomes unintelligible. He finally shares with us the very moment he realized he no longer had a family.
You're sure to leave this house feeling moved.
Another great place to go is the Heineken Brewery. They give you the tour and explain the process. This "brewery" is no longer operational, however. Then they bring you past the huge bags of hops and barley, past the fermentation tanks, and lecture you some more. Finally you are brought to a drinking hall where men in white shirts with green stripes slam down a mug of beer in front of you. When there is but one inch of beer left and some foam, they whisk away your mug and slam down another. Their tours take place at 9 AM and 10:30 AM last I knew. So you can get drunk for free first thing. We were running out of their screaming when they tried to give us a fourth mug. This place was brilliantly designed: you exit from the beer hall into the souvenir shop. You are buzzed and blown away by the inexpensive Heineken Delft pottery steins. They're only five bucks American! You buy four. You buy two t-shirts. You need pins for your jackets. You must have that Heineken cookie jar, too. Then when the buzz wears off? You find yourself lugging two huge heavy shopping bags around the Van Gogh museum, and setting them down tiredly with a resounding thud in front of each painting.
This is what I did. I am a huge Van Gogh fan and would not have missed the museum. It is set up in such a way that the paintings are in chronological order. You can watch the slight changes and his descent into madness where the paintings change from classical Dutch masteresque to swirling masterful patterns. Ahh... but Vincent's not for everybody.
I truly believe everyone should go into one of them thar' cafes. YOU know! Wink. Wink. Nudge. Nudge. Say no' mo'e! We went into a few but spent the most time in The Blue Velvet Cafe, so named for the David Lynch movie. Its sign is a mischievous looking white cat with spiked whiskers, a baseball cap, and a smoldering joint in one paw. When you walk inside, there is an obese white cat with a rhinestone collar napping on a bar stool. You bend slightly to pet him, but he doesn't move. His side rises and falls, so you know he's not dead. When you take your hand away he says, "rrrrrr?" And sleepily thuds to the floor and staggers toward the door for some nourishing fresh air. Yeppers! He's cooked! The bar is lit with cobalt blue lights with an occasional yellow light here and there. Behind the bar are two bar tenders: one filling drink orders, the other rolling joints rapidly and throwing them in a paper cup for the rush later. On one wall is an animated circle that scrolls with images of bunnies under a rainbow, Greco-Roman nude men wrestling, cats, shamrocks... THAT alone is enough to alter your consciousness. But I had a "special bon bon." It tastes something like banana bread with sort of a bran-oat taste. This muffin-like thing contains marijuana. It did little for me. I'd move my eyes from side to side and enjoy the city lights streaking and the visual earthquakes of cars jumping in my peripheral vision. It was strange but didn't affect me in any other way. The barkeep told me the joints there are laced with tobacco so they burn better. I don't know if he's right in his assertion, but that's what he told me.
As for getting around Amsterdam? I'd say walking is the best; it's cheap and you can see more. Do take a canal cruise -- it's prettier at night when the bridges are lit and you can't see how brown and cloudy the water is. Some things are simply too far for walking. The cabs are cheap and sure to get your heart rate up. They race down the street car tracks, tailgate bicyclists, and cut off trucks and cars. It feels strangely safe, though. The street cars are the way to go. You have to punch your own ticket, though. So it may seem confusing. I noticed the locals don't always punch theirs. I always did. I don't know how enforced it is or what. There are maps around each stop so it's easy to navigate. We tried to take the subway once. At the bottom of the stairs were a bunch of people with bags under their eyes who seemed to be jumpy and ready for fisticuffs. We quickly ran back up to the street and decided to stay out of there. It was the stop RIGHT in front of the trainstation. Maybe it's just a bad area, but I don't recommend it. I also don't recommend driving. You must merge with the street cars. There are traffic lights for the thousands of bicyclists. The people drive like lunatics. Parking is a disaster and they boot your car with no warning (like they did to my aunt). They have zero tolerance for parking violations. Just DON'T drive there. Also the insurance is higher because of the high theft rate (if you rent a car). It's simply not worth it.
Driving from Amsterdam to Belgium, we stopped at Kinderdjick -- a place with eighteen windmills. It's well worth the effort. There are placid canals, swans, flowers, and ... WINDMILLS! Get a REAL sense of being amongst the Dutch. It's south of Amsterdam.
Bruges, Belgium
Ahh. SERENITY! Cobblestones. Canals. Flowers. CHOCOLAT! This is where my heart was. Like Bernkastel-Kues in Germany, it was pretty and wonderfully quiet at night. You could hear the canals licking the cement walls from dusk on into the night. Houses were illuminated, glistening in the canals. We only spent a day here -- not nearly enough time. We climbed to the top of the tower in the center of town (can't miss it!) and looked down upon oceans of orange roof stops and stepped gables. The air was cold and gusty, but the view compelled us to stay. It's well worth the climb and the rubbery calf muscles -- and the wheezing and coughing as the case may be for us smokers.
Across from the Basilica of the Holy Blood (they reputedly have a vial containing Jesus' blood -- they march it around ceremoniously each Easter with a mock crucifixion) is a place where you can pick up a canal tour. It's worth it, though it's hard to hear the guide and his English wasn't very good. He also spoke Italian for a field trip whom we boarded with.
If nothing else, BUY some chocolate. There is NOTHING like it in the world. And take a peek in a lace shop even if you don't want to buy anything (ahh... but you will!). They often have lace-making demonstrations in the fronts of these shops. Be sure to have a waffle there, too. They sell them everywhere, including bakeries. They need no syrup; they're plenty sweet enough on their own --NOTHING like they are here in the States. Also, go to a street vendor and have some fries (frites). They're good with mayo, curry ketchup, or malt vinegar. Go ahead and try them all. There is also an excellent open air market in the square in Bruges. There are butchers, bakers, craftsmen... you name it. And the flowers are GORGEOUS!
But DO spend more time there than I did. An overnight is just nowhere near enough time. I think people tend to discount Bruges because it's not a major hub.
Paris
I would have been happy to hide in the hotel until it was time to leave. Our hotel was nice, Hotel Londres. It's on Rue Sainte Roche, in close proximity to the Louvre. I haven't had a good cup of coffee since Paris. I miss our baskets of croissants and rolls with home made strawberry jam and those broad cups of steaming cafe au lait. That was free in our hotel, by the way. I recommend staying there highly. The rooms were pretty and had just the basic amenities (bath, comfy bed, TV with German pornos!) Siiiiigh. But the people were just so seemingly cold and heartless. I may have just had a multitude of bad encounters; I'm willing to give it another go. It is simply the prettiest city in the world.
Driving here is less scary than in Amsterdam, though they're rather aggressive. I think I would almost compare them to New Yorkers if I had to compare them to someone. The Metro is easy to navigate, too. I thought the cabs were fairly priced, but the two occasions we used them I felt like they cheated us by bringing us through unnecessarily long routes. Walking, again, is my transportation of choice.
We walked to the Arc De Triomphe. It was in view after all. But after an hour it was still looming in the distance. An hour and a half and it seemed only marginally closer. I can't tell you how magnificent this masterpiece is. You go inside and climb it and can see for miles and miles. It's just out of this world. We went twice.
The Eiffel Tower is over rated, I thought. I loved seeing it from the ground and the only reason I'm glad we went to the top is because we can say we did. That's it. It was overly crowded. It was hectic. It was crammed full of a field trip from Ireland. Just to get back on the elevator down (after being jostled and shoved and pushed to the back of the line repeatedly) I bit and kicked and chewed my way back to the front. I was about to snap! There was no room and I was drenched in my sweat and the sweat of hundreds of others. I was simply frantic.
Back on the ground there was a protest and a paddy wagon. One man was thrown on the sidewalk and billy clubbed and thrown in the wagon. He must have been going mental in there because it shook and rocked and swayed to and fro. I saw this man back on the sidewalk and picketing again after a mere five minutes.
Yeah -- if you skip going up the Eiffel Tower then you're not missing much. The view is slightly better than from the Arc; everything's smaller but you see farther.
Sacre Cour is beautiful. It's in the heart of Montemarte, the artisans' mecca. People come up to you with sinister scowls on their visages and stare at you and glower, whilst snipping black paper with scissors. Then without a change of expression they hold up the outcome: your profile. My mom wound up buying us one each and had them mounted with a painting from Paris for me. Great gift idea, but they'll swarm you WORSE! When you get to Sacred Heart, go inside. Buy a votive candle and light it in memory of your deceased loved ones. I do this for my grandparents everywhere. I know it's not the idea of them, but the church gets its dollar and I know that it reminds me that I take them with me EVERYWHERE. And I believe they know, too.
If you are an art lover, then go to The Louvre. It's cluttered with masterpieces. You'll find yourself smiling around every corner. Mona Lisa is a disappointment, as you've probably heard. You push through a crowd, stand on your tippy toes, and glance at a very puny classic covered in bullet proof glass. Venus De Milo is -- outstanding! She's much rounder and feminine and well defined in person (or in statue?). My favorite there was one I'd never seen before and I bought its replica; La Martyre. It's a blonde woman laying in a darkened lagoon with her hands bound with gold ropes. Her eyes are closed and she looks peacefully deceased. Looming above her on a darkened hill is a black silhouette of a cloaked man -- maybe the one who did this to her! It's worth the effort. If you truly love art, then go over the course of two days.
The trip to Versaille is worth it. You'll never fathom such grandeur til you see it for yourself. You'll see beautiful sun king motifs and chandeliers that would bring a tear to your eye. The gardens and fountains are magnificent to. But there's more. You feel it there. I can't quite put my finger on what "it" is... but you'll feel "it" too. Maybe it's haunted. Maybe it's just that it's rich in history.
My favorite of all favorites was the Cemetery where Jim Morrisson is buried. I went there to see him, but left there feeling transformed. It was like an outdoor museum with sculptures and beauty. There were gorgeous "pleurants"-- weepers -- marking the graves. A child cherub weeping on a grave with rain streaks making him look tear stained. There were statues and flowers and majesty. The disturbing thing was the grafitti. And it was ALL American kids' gibberish. I wish to heck they'd just behave and show this place the respect it deserves. My mom chides me that I liked being there because I was among dead people in Paris. And I hope I don't offend anybody saying that. She was just trying to cheer me up because she knew how miserable I was and intimidated.
I looked forward to going to Notre Dame, but thought it was over rated. The Rose window was every bit as pretty as I imagined, but that was about it. Half the place was covered in scaffolding, and the other half was "cleaned" and now white -- not that dusty gray I had seen in so many photographs. The gargoyles were obscured by workmen and more scaffolding. Blech. Just a bad time, I s'pose.
As for the food -- my favorite was in average cafes. I loved the grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with the fried egg on top. The quiche Lorraine was out of this world, too. The service was brisk and attentive -- and this was where I found the only friendly Parisians (and at our hotel, but I think they were from Pakistan if I recall). One waiter benignly tutored me in French, correcting my pronunciation, and telling me to "ecoutez et repetez." VERY helpful, and always with a trace smile.
The surliness I encountered there should here be explained. Here are THEE two incidents that I feel engender my entire experience there:
1. My Question: "Excusez moi? Avez vous grande?" (to a T-shirt vendor, while holding up a certain shirt; it means "do you have large?" ). Her Answer: "Non." (Said without looking up from her book).
2. My Question en Francaise: "Excuse me? Where is Rue Sainte Roche?" (To a doorman outside of a ritzy apartment building). His answer: "Cherchez!? Cherchez?" He spat these words angrily with red face and chords in his neck sticking out. I tried every variation of "Roche." When I started to walk away he asked in French if "it were possible I meant Rue Sainte ROCHE?" JUST the way I pronounced it the first time. ARGH!
3. The lady in the bakery chatted enthusiastically in English with a lady in front of us. This went on for a while and was testing my patience. She beamed and wished her friend a good day. I smiled and asked if she spoke English. She frowned, crossed her arms and defiantly spewed "NON!" I ordered in French, feeling still intimidated and overrot with nervousness.
THERE! That's just a small sampling of my loathing for my Paris experience. And that's why I'm glad we did the road trip tour. What I loved, I'll go back to. What I loathed, I didn't loathe for long.
At any rate, on our way home we had a free night in Iceland, compliments of Iceland Air. They were overbooked and they gave us $200 American cash, a free night in a hotel, free meal vouchers (limited to the hotel's buffet which WAS good), and a free tour. We liked it so much we went back. Actually? My first review was about our stay there. Since I don't get any pennies, I can say with good conscience that if Iceland interests you then you should check out that review, too.
Thanks for reading!
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Member: Becki
Location: Pittsfield, MA USA
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About Me:
Worry looks around. Sorry looks back. Faith looks up.
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