European Superlatives

So today is the last day, and all along I've been saying to myself that I wanted to do the real yearbook thing to conclude my voyage: Superlatives. So, without any further ado, I give you the highlights (and lowlights) of three months on the European continent.

Favorite Stop: Grindelwald, Switzerland. Nothing can really beat the impressiveness and the natural beauty of the Alps. Incredible views, the simple fact of being in the Swiss Alps, a fun place to stay, good company, the chance to make snowmen and good weather made the experience one that won't be quickly forgotten. Being outdoors, hiking, and all that fun stuff was an incredible departure from the rest of the trip.

Favorite City: Berlin. I'm too much of a history nerd to say that I like any other city than the one that dominated the twentieth century. Staying there for eight nights gave me the chance to really learn about the city, explore it, and delve into it. With it's rebuilt historic sites, remnants of the wall, and futuristic, modern architecture, it was easily my favorite city, the only stop I could see myself living in and the place I most want to go back to.

Most European-feeling City: Rome, Italy. It has all sorts of ruins, statutes, historic sites that make you think of Europe, but on top of that it has the sort of congestion, crazy driving, and surly people that I think of when I think of Europe. Totally takes the cake. Plus, it has a really European food selection.

Best Old Town: Wroclaw, Poland, with its wide-open square with multi-colored buildings clustered together, the old town of Wroclaw felt like it was still . What made it cooler is that it was almost completely destroyed in World War II, and has been rebuilt since. What makes it even cooler is that it was originally a German town (Breslau) and was made into a Polish town following the war.

Favorite person met: Sally Dunbar, who accompanied me to Grindelwald on the Alpine adventure, made the experience way more interesting, and it's nice to make a friend in your travels. A Finnish man (whose name I cannot remember) I met in Zurich on the night of the Italy-France and Netherlands-Romania who made it his duty to see that I had a wonderful night comes in a distant, but notable second.

Best Train System: After more than forty train rides, I can safely examine the rail systems of multiple countries and tell you that Switzerland's SBB, which took an hour between any destination, regardless of how far, was the most efficient. It was also the easiest to navigate, and had trains going where I needed to go when I needed to go. Second place goes to the DB, which was cleaner and more friendly than any other rail system.

Worst Train System: Poland's PKP. We can talk about the PKP in person. The PKP and I did not get along.

Best country for food: Italy. Even though we were only there for three days, I had more food in Italy than I probably had on the rest of the trip. Pizza, pasta, and everything else you'd expect to eat in Italy, only better and in larger portions that you would expect.

Best meal: Toss-up between a traditional Berlin meal of almost entirely meat (chicken, fish, steak, sausage, sauerkraut, potatoes, beer and champagne) in Germany or a real Italian meal (pasta, various meats, Sicilian broccoli, prosciutto, mozzarella, ect.) when we were in Rome.

Best Snack: Belgian Waffles. Annie told me that they would be good. They were incredible. It's sugar in waffle form, covered with sugar in fruit form, covered in sugar in whipped cream form.

Worst country for food: England. While Mrs. Boulicault's cooking was wonderful, the English completely live up to their reputation of having food that isn't too good. On top of that, it's really hard to find anything that's really English in London, so most of the time I settled for eating other food. On top of that, it was all really expensive, which was a bad way to start a trip.

Best Building: On the modern side, the Hauptbanhof in Berlin with its glass and steel, futuristic space-station look is the winner. On the pre-2oth century side, the Roman coliseum did not dissapoint. On the 20th Century side, I found the Palace of Science and Culture, with its overwhelming communist feel to be really cool. On the Best fusion of old and new, the winner is the Reichstag in Berlin with its futuristic dome capping the historic parliament building.

Worst Buildings: The European Union section of Belgium might be one of the most hideous places I've ever been.

Favorite traditional clothing: You can't really beat Lederhosen. It's just silly. Comeon, it has a flap in the front so you can pee. That's silly.

Best City for Running: London, but that's only because where I was staying backs up to Hampstead Heath, and therefore I had a giant park to play in whenever I wanted.

Worst City for Running: Brussels. Simply put, there is no green space in Brussels, and nowhere to go where there aren't a million people.

Most Bizarre Sight: The Water Parade in Brussels. I don't think anything will come close to stumbling upon a several-mile long parade dedicated to water, and every fifteen minutes the whole city jumped.

Favorite Random Fact Learned: The Smurfs come from Belgium, and the Belgians love the Smurfs.

Best Hostel: Krakow. Annie and I had our own room that was as nice as a hotel room, for cheaper than any hostel I had stayed in to that point (hooray for Poland!). Plus, it had a sweet kitchen, a nice common room, good location, and felt safe.

Worst Hostel: The Blue Corridor Hostel in Vienna. On the fourth floor of a building with no elevator, no air conditioning, five people in a four-bed room, no common area, and showers with no doors, inviting everybody to share you bathing experience. For twelve nights I stayed here.

Coolest statute: The Trevi Fountain in Rome.

Object I wish I had with me: More socks. I can't tell you how many times I had to wear stinky, dirty socks, or walk in sandals when it was too cold to wear sandals.

Object I wish I didn't have with me: I brought a hoodie sweatshirt, and I still can't quite figure out why. I wore it once, when I was all wet after hiking in Austria, but other than that it just took up an unusual amount of space in my bag.

Most Memorable Experience: Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum and historical site. Going to Auschwitz and Birkenau will probably be something that will stick with me forever.

Best Experience: Croatia v. Turkey. The first game I went to, where I randomly ran into Alex Lim, which went into extra time where both teams scored, and then to penalty kicks to decide the winner, who ended up being Turkey.

Favorite Football-Related Experience (other than games): Witnessing the rivalry between Celtic and Rangers fans in Glasgow and when I encountered them elsewhere. It's a fierce rivalry, it runs along lines that are deeper than fandom, and those involved in in view the world through it. It's fascinating.

Worst Experience: Taking a night train from Innsbruck to Rome without somewhere to sleep, while a North African woman slept in my lap and 200 Italian cowboys partied outside our compartment. I'm still bitter.

Most unimpressive, underwhelming sight: This is a difficult one. Two sights really both excel in this category: the Mannequin Pis, a statue of a little boy peeing that is the national pride of Belgium; and the Glockenspiel in Munich, a contraption that rings bells and reenacts significant moments in 16th century Bavarian history through life-size wooden figures. The golden roof, from Innsbruck, also competes in this category, but it somehow more impressive than the other two.

Most impressive, overwhelming sight: The View from Grosse Schidegg in Grindelwald on the second day of hiking in the alps. For man-made impressiveness, the winner is seeing the city of Berlin at night from the top of the Reichstag building.

And I think that sufficiently wraps up the blogging experience for this summer, and I'm heading home bright and early tomorrow. For those of you who read often, I appreciate it. For those of you who read sparingly, I appreciate it. For those of you who maybe read one or two postings, I appreciate it. It's been a fun trip, and I'm glad I could share it with you.

Kevin

And for those of you who just can't get enough of Kevin Kiley blogging, that other blog I started a while ago to post my project (http://politicalpitches.blogspot.com), is about to be updated like whoa in the next few weeks to compensate for not doing anything to it in the past month.

A Long Way (But not THE long way)

We started the last leg of our trip Monday at 7 a.m. when we got on a bus from Dubrovnik to Zagreb. We were all excited because we had the front seats on the second story of a two-story bus. In case anybody cares, those front seats, in the hot Croatian weather, are basically an oven. Our blisteringly hot excursion back to the Croatian capital took a horribly long 10 hours in which neither Annie nor I slept a wink and were cooked alive. On top of that, there were only two pee breaks, which I guess was fine since we sweated out anything we drank anyways.

Back at Zagreb (again, not doing anything but grabbing a train), we grabbed a real meal (since we hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning) and then jumped on an overnight train heading for Munich, Germany. The last time we took a night train, we had great roommates who were interesting and, most importantly, willing to sleep. This time around we weren't so lucky, as we were joined by two Dutch women who preferred to fold up the beds and sit down instead.

When we got to Munich around 7 in the morning, we had just enough time to grab a few Bratwursts (yay being back in Germany!) and jump on an early train to Frankfurt, which would add another four hours of travel, bringing the total to roughly 24 hours of pure, hardcore travel in slightly more than a day.

We'll Have a Dalmatian Vacation

This was day four on the sands of Croatia, a country that nobody really knows anything about but has become the latest travel destination for Europeans, and apparently backpackers after they tour Europe.

We left Split Monday morning after spending only one night there, and caught a ferry to Hvar, an island off the Croatian coast. The ferry only took an hour, though I have to admit that I slept most of the ride, bringing back fond memories of the ferry rides in Greece.

We arrived on Hvar mid-afternoon, unpacked our stuff, changed into bathing suits and set out for the closest swimming hole.

For somewhere that's billed as an island paradise, Hvar's beaches aren't too nice. Most are just rocky coastline where vendors have decided to capitalize by hawking sun chairs. Laying out on a towel is an interesting experience, and probably not too good for the back. There are really nice beaches, they're located just offshore on a nearby island, and I wasn't really up for spending more money on a taxi boat.

But, determined to take a dip in the Adriatic, we staked out a spot on a nice rock outcropping and jumped in. The nice thing about a rocky coastline is that you can jump in and not have to do that awkward half run, half dive move that's always torture with somewhat cold beaches.

Day two was the epitome of how I was feeling. That would be exhausted. We didn't wake up until around 2:30, mainly due to the fact that since we left Berlin we've been going nonstop, and frankly we were a little tired. Throw on top of that the fact that we haven't slept more than 4 hours for the past few nights, and you can begin to understand how one can sleep more than 12 hours. The rest of the day passed in a blur, and I can't really recall doing anything besides being overwhelmingly tired and wanting to go to sleep. So that's what we did eventually.

On day three, Annie and I went exploring around Hvar in hopes of finding a sandy beach or something that isn't jagged rock. After noticing a spot on a Google map that looked promising, we set off in that direction only to get distracted at another beach, and while it might not have been that pretty, we were soaking with sweat, and decided that a swim might be nice.

After our dip we pressed on in search of that far off beach, eventually realizing that the road had narrowed down into a slightly used path that was only noticeable because of the discoloration of the stone, which we supposed meant that it was well-traveled. I think it was actually discolored to warn against taking it, as it was possibly the most perilous path I've ever been on, occasionally coming very close to falling off into the ocean. As we made our way around, we came to another beach, where we took another dip. After pressing on from that beach for a while, we realized that where we stopped was actually the nice beach that we were looking for, but by this time it was getting late and I was starting to feel like I was getting sunburned.

By the time we made it back I was sufficiently sunburned, and we headed inside to drink lots of water and relax in air conditioning. As the sun started going down we wandered around town and found a good spot to sit and watch the sun go down.

Being sunburned, I didn't really feel too up to laying around in the sun, so we spent most of the next day inside watching movies on the computer. As the sun started to go down, we again braved the heat to hike up to the Hvar fortress, situated high above the city. Coming down, we again made for the beach to watch the sun set. I have really good pictures, but none of them are on the computer yet, so I can't post them.

The next morning, bright and early, we headed back to Split in order to catch a bus to take us down to Dubrovnik, which, while it's really the tourist-capital of Croatia, doesn't have a ferry or railroad or any kind of easy transport running to it. In addition to the languages being similar, I'm beginning to notice more and more similarities between Croatia and Poland. It must have something to do with being stuck behind the Iron Curtain for so long.

The Long Way

The reason we ventured so far down the Italian peninsula was the hope that we would catch a ferry to Split, Croatia, which was our destination. While in Rome, we decided to figure out exactly where and when and how much this ferry would be. Turns out, a Ferry across the Adriatic is close to 50 Euro, so we axed that plan. On top of that, we weren’t sure if we could get to Ancona – the port of call – before the ferry left. Plus, we still had to figure out where to buy tickets. It was going to be a long day, that’s for sure.

So we woke up ridiculously early Saturday morning (5 a.m.), and caught the first train from Rome to Ancona. While on the train, we had a brainstorm. If we most likely weren’t going to make it to Split until Sunday anyway (since the next ferry ride was late and long) why waste a lot of money on the travel. Why not, instead, just take a train north through Italy, over the top of the Adriatic sea through Slovenia and down into Zagreb, and then take a train from Zagreb to Split. We both had rail passes, so it would essentially be free. We’d get there a little later, but ultimately end up saving money.

We found that an overnight train left Venice around 9 p.m., and standing in the Ancona train station, we saw a train getting ready to leave for Venice. Perfect. After popping into the ticket office to see if we needed a reservation (we didn’t), we jumped on a very full train to Venice. After getting kicked out of our seats because someone else had a reservation, we took a seat in the hallway and played numerous games of twenty questions to kill the time.

Despite two fairly long train rides, we arrived in Venice by 2 p.m. Cool, now we have seven hours to kill in Venice, which seemed like a pretty cool plan.

Venice is a really neat city – for a day trip. We wandered the city and made it to the famous square where we fed pigeons and took pictures. It’s really beautiful and the canals make it really cool I think the best way to see the city is to take a boat, but since a Gondola ride costs about $80, and I’m not quite ready to spend that much for sightseeing.

After the day in Venice, we hopped on an overnight train to Zagreb, the capital of Croatia. Unlike the last overnight train, we booked sleeping space, which was a much better plan. While our room was unbearably hot, I managed a good night’s sleep until we reached Croatia at 4 a.m.

Needless to say, I haven’t had much sleep in the past few days, but it’s alright, since we’re on our way to Croatia, where we’ll be doing nothing on the beach for a few days. Then, of course, we’re making another mad-dash back to Frankfurt, Germany, where we’ll finally make our way home.

It’s hard to believe that we’re in the last country we’ll be visiting, and that I’m on my fortieth train ride, and I'm glad that the rail pass is finally paying off. It's easier to believe that I haven't really slept in two days, nor have I showered, and both Italy and Croatia are very hot, so I've been quite sweaty and stinky.

When In Rome

Day 1: Ancient Rome

Arriving in Rome on less than two hours of sleep seemed like a difficult concept, especially considering we didn’t know where our hostel was and the fact that it was 9:30 in the morning and already 80 degrees.

With luck and my guide book, which pointed us to a nearby internet cafe, we were lucky enough to find the hostel, which was surprisingly close to the train station. We check in, put our stuff down, and, exhaustedly realized that it was still only 10 in the morning, and we had a full day ahead of us.

Our initial plan was to take a nap in a park, but Roman parks aren’t that nice or comfortable, so we figured that we’d tough out the day. Finding parks not easy to come by or sleep in, we thought we would seek out what we really wanted: food. That's not hard to find in Rome, and after lunch of Lasagna and Pizza, right outside of the Colosseum, we thought it best to do some sightseeing.

After charging my camera battery, we made our way to the ultimate European tourist destination – the Roman Coliseum. Most people say you’re disappointed by the Coliseum, but I don’t think I was. In my mind, the Coliseum fulfilled my expectations. It’s awesome to think that an ancient civilization could build something large enough to hold a crowd about the same size of Kenan Stadium. Good thing I charged my camera battery because I took a ton of pictures. I just feel like pictures of the Coliseum are the kind of thing I’m going to want to have when I get back home.

We took a guided tour of the coliseum and then headed into the Palatine Hill and the Forum, where someone who is clearly an awkward art history graduate student showed us around and told us things he, too, learned from his history textbooks. But seeing the forum was really neat, and exactly what I expected to see when I thought of it.

After finishing the ruins of ancient Rome, we made our way north to check out the Trevi fountain, which might just top my list of favorite fountains (even above the Mannequin Pis in Brussels. I know, shocking). I would hate to describe it and do it an injustice, so just Google Image search, look at my picture of it, or go to Rome and see it four yourself.

For dinner we had an incredible meal. Annie really loves Italian food, and I figured my mom and my dad and my grandpa would come down on me pretty hard if I went all the way to Italy and didn't have an incredible Italian meal. So we had one. Three courses from this amazing restaurant down this funny little side street in the heart of Rome. It might have been the highlight of the trip. Plus, the next day, we found 50 Euro in the train station, which I deemed to be Karma repaying me for giving a guy back $400 that he dropped while I was walking around Zurich.

Day 2: Catholic Rome

I guess it's not technically considered to be in Rome to go to the Vatican, seeing as it's its own country, but I'm going to consider it Roman anyways. Anyways, I like to think of it as the third reason for going to Rome outside the nifty ancient history and the incredible food.

Yeah, so this morning we headed across the Tiber River to check out where the heart (the old, Papal heart) of Catholicism resides.


When we arrived in St. Peter's Square, I was shocked at how many people there were there. Well, actually, I was more shocked by how many people were waiting in line to enter St. Peter's Basilica, a line which we soon joined. The Basilica is massive. And every inch of it is elaborately decorated and worth more than I will ever make in my lifetime. I'm not really a church person, but I enjoyed the Basilica.

After the Basilica, we headed into the Vatican museums, which culminate in the Sistine Chapel, where you're unfortunately not allowed to take any pictures. I wasn't overwhelmed by the Sistine Chapel. It's cool, but it's just as cool as all the pictures. It doesn't rank up there with the Mannequin Pis or the Glockenspiel as the most underwhelming sights of the trip, but it doesn't get up there with the view from Eiger or the Berlin Wall or the Trevi Fountain as the most impressive either. If I made a scale, the Sistine Chapel might fall right in the middle.

The rest of the museums were cool. At some point in history, some Pope ordered that leaves be put over all the nude statues' private parts, which made for funny, out of place leaves. While I know nothing about art and will not claim to, I will say that my preference for sculpturedefinitely involves soldiers fighting stuff or scenes from ancient mythology (which usually involves people fighting stuff), rather than just people standing around.

We moved from the Vatican to the Pantheon, another religious site, and then to the Piazza Navona, another square with a fountain I wanted to see. Now, the only real reason why I wanted to see this piazza was because someone is killed there in Dan Brown's Angels and Demons (really the only part of that whole book I can remember, which is sad since I'm in Rome and would probably enjoy remembering things from it). Unfortunately, the fountain is undergoing major renovation and was not available for viewing.

We saw the Spanish steps tonight. Tomorrow we're trying to make our way to Croatia (yay) where we'll be lounging on the beach for a while, since, you know, after all this Euro-travelling, we really need a vacation. Please don't hate me.

A Midnight Train Going Anywhere

Introduction: Remember that post I did a while ago about when I missed the entire football game due to the weather, and I was really bitter. This post should be read with that same irritated tone.

The next stop on what I had deemed the “mind the gap” adventure – filling the space between scheduled stops – was to make our way south so it would be easier to reach our final destination of Croatia.

We looked at where trains from Innsbruck were heading, and decided that the most appealing southward direction was Italy, and if we only had two days to spend in Italy, we might as well make it to Rome.

We thought that since we had rail passes, and we didn’t want to waste any time going extremely long distances, why not take a night train? That way, we could save money on accommodation and it would be nifty to fall asleep in Vienna and wake up in Rome.

I can’t sleep on planes. I can’t sleep in cars. I can’t sleep on buses or in vans, and I’m fairly certain that I can’t sleep in any kind of contraption in which I am sitting upright. Why I thought I would be able to sleep on a train is beyond my comprehension, but I believed it, and so we booked seats on the 11 p.m. train from Innsbruck to Rome. While that was pretty much the only mistake, it was a big one.

We boarded the train at around 11:00 p.m., so we were already tired. Our compartment already had two guys going in and out of sleep taking up the window seats, so Annie and I took the seats by the compartment door. Also probably a mistake. Since we had hiked for seven hours that day, I figured that I be so pooped that I would have no problem falling asleep. Wrong. I find it impossible to get comfortable enough to fall asleep in any kind of sitting up position. And when the train conductor is coming in every 10 minutes and checking your ticket (doesn't do that on any other train, only the one where I'm trying to sleep), it becomes hard to enter a real slumber.

I'm not quite sure where it was that we stopped, but about a billion people got on our train, so our compartment door was opening and closing every 10 minutes with someone looking for a seat.

Then into our compartment barge two French women who proceeded to take the two middle seats in the compartment and proceeded to seep into every other seat in the compartment as well. After about 10 minutes I was sufficiently cuddling with one of them and quite unhappy. That’s also when the Italian cowboy disco picked up in the hall outside.

So with everybody drinking, smoking, and carrying on outside our compartment, a French woman's head in my lap, and 1 cubic foot to sleep in, I finally gave up and proceeded to glare at Annie for several hours, who was nodding off peacefully. I was not a happy man.

The French women were supposed to get off in Verona, but instead missed their stop and had to get off in Bologna, where, lucky me, another man in our compartment got off as well, meaning that, at around 6 a.m., I finally had enough room to sleep. That is, of course, until people started boarding around 8 a.m. for their morning commute.

Obviously, night trains aren't my thing.

The Hills Are Alive

Seeing as how Annie and my plans had rearranged drastically since we left for the summer, we had a gap of about five days to fill and no real idea of what to do with them. So welcome to a few days on improvisation. Where would we go first?

Since I had been regaling everyone I knew with stories of my Grindelwald hiking adventure earlier this trip, and Annie receiving the brunt of it, and seeing as how our hiking plans for Zakopane in Poland didn’t quite work out, due to unfavorable weather and the both of us just being exhausted from the first halves of our trips, we thought we should try our hand again at hiking.

Unfortunately, when you try to book hostels a night or two before you’re supposed to be somewhere, they tend to be full, especially during tourist season in Europe. My first few ideal destinations didn’t pan out. So, luck and numerous full hostels brought me back to Austria, where Annie and I made for the mountain town of Innsbruck, home to the world’s coolest ski jump tower and a golden roof that it pushes like a cocaine dealer, proud host of two winter Olympics, and this summer a host city for – you guessed it – Euro 2008. Wonderful coincidence.

Innsbruck is a nifty mountain city, which is bigger than a mountain town. When you look at it from high up on hills, you can see that it is much larger than say, Grindelwald. It makes it so that, even though you've been hiking for hours, you don't really feel like you've gone anywhere. Kind of frustrating.

Seeing as how one does not get many chances to go hiking in the Austrian Alps, we decided that whatever the weather might be, we would tough it out and do some hiking.

That turned out to be an interesting decision. The weather in Innsbruck is fickle. It rains. It’s sunny. There’s wind. There’s no wind. Some parts have snow. Some parts are dry. And this is all at the same time. Within 15 minutes one can experience almost every type of weather on the planet in this humble mountain city. Dressing appropriately was difficult, and I often found myself putting on and taking off layers.

So when we started our first day of hiking, it was gorgeous. Then it was rainy. Then it was gorgeous again. We hiked up for about three hours, and then we hiked down for about two hours. That is, until we got to Geologensteig.

Coming down the mountain, we thought it would be a good idea to take this shortcut we had noticed on the way up. We disembarked from the main trail and headed town a tiny, windy side path. It got tinier and windier, until it eventually disappeared. Me, being the genius that I am thought I would follow where I thought it would go, and that's when we went over a minor cliff to find a small, windy trail. So we followed that. And things went worse from there. We ended up sliding down half of the mountain, holding on to trees for dear life to prevent us from certain death. And then we ended up in someone's back yard, about 50 meters away from where we should have been. It was an adventure.

Day two saw nasty, rainy morning, and in hopes that the sky would burn off in a few hours, we made our way across the city to catch a glimpse of the Bersigel ski jump tower. I don’t know how many people know this about me, but I am fascinated by the sport of ski jumping. I find it to be ridiculously awesome, in the sense of both awe-inspiring and absolutely ridiculous. To me, it encapsulates everything the winter Olympic Games should be: obscure sports that involve a certain element of mortal peril. People hurling themselves down an ice sheet of metal and flinging themselves several football fields through the air to what could be a devastating crash certainly fits the bill.

Unfortunately, the ski tower costs 8 Euro to enter, and when we learned that, we also learned that we would be content admiring it from afar, though not before taking a few pictures right outside of the gate. Plus, they wouldn’t actually let us ski jump (and, honestly, I wouldn’t let me ski jump either), so that took most of the allure out of it.

With my dreams of Olympic ski jump gold thoroughly defeated by extortionate prices, we made our way back to the same path we started up the day before, not going quite so far, since we were pretty tired from the day before (I haven't been doing quite as much exercise as my body would have wanted this trip).

On day three, we woke up and got ready for our major hike. Too bad for us, the weather wasn't going to let us have a good time, but we thought we would tough it out through the rain and the fog in hopes that it would burn off by the time we got to the top, just like it had other days. After getting lost and following what ended up being the same path as day one (not the shortcut, but the way up), we ended up getting pretty high. As the following picture clearly indicates, the weather did not burn off.

I can’t say that I liked Innsbruck as much as Grindelwald, but it was nice to get out into the fresh air and out of the city again. Grindelwald had that mountain town allure, while Innsbruck seemed like a big city stuck in the middle of the mountains, too big for its location, kind of like when tall men drive Volkswagon beetles.

''Hung Over in Heidi''

Brussels was normal compared to this place. This place would be Munich, by the way. To the Germans it's Munchen. To the Germans Germany is Deutchland. I don't know why we change the names of all German things.

The title comes from Annie, who is correct in saying that I haven't even seen Heidi, which is apparently a movie in which people are wearing traditional German clothing. I don't get it, but it sounded funny, and adequately described the day, which has been by far one of the weirdest of my life.

Okay, so last night, we met these guy from Swizerland who kept buying us drinks, so when I woke up this morning I wasn't in top form. On top of that, more than two months of travel and living out of a backpack takes its toll on the mind, so we were a little loopy. Which makes all of what happened today much funnier.

So, after we took a tour yesterday, we realized that there really isn't a whole lot to do in Munich, so we went for a stroll around town.It has some cool old-timey architecture, which was rebuilt after most of the city was destroyed in the war. That's pretty much it, except for the city's second-biggest tourist destination (next to the massive beer halls, of course): the worldßfamous Glockensphiel. We made our way to the town center just in time to catch the Glockensphiel (sp), which has been deemed one of the most underwhelming sights in Europe. It's this stupid thing that goes off a couple times a day that has these wooden figures that don't really do much other than move in circles. Why we went back to see it a second time is anyones guess, but it now seems an appropriate way to start the day.

As we turned the corner to head down our next street, we began to notice that an odd number of people were dressed in their German milk-maid dresses and the males in Lederhosen, which are kind of like overalls, but stupider, and not made of denim. I thought these things were just gag gifts, but people actually wear them around town, and look like they're in the eighteenth century.

Then we had to clear the street because a procession of mounted knights (yes, like, shining armor knights), was making its way down the street led by pipers in brightly colored tights. Where this ''Glockensphiel procession'' was heading is anybody's guess, but they turned through a huge crowd who gathered to watch, and we couldn't follow.

Wanting a coke, we made our way to this huge market, where we were met by the melodious cracking of whips. A group of lederhosen-clad men with whips were following along with a piper and making music outside of a local cafe. I swear people, I'm not making this stuff up.

As we wandered deeper into the market, things became more German, and stranger. Polka bands were playing oompa music for street dancers who looked like they existed in the seventeenth century, and everybody was eating wurst and drinking beer.

And then we saw a guy on stilts. He took a picture with Annie. That was pretty much the culmination of the day weirdness. He wasn't even doing anything for money, he was just walking around on stilts. He was really happy, too.

As we made our way out of the city's center, we were passed again by the Glockensphiel procession, as if to mark our entry and exit from this bizzare German fantasy-land.

I have absolutely no idea why any of this was going on, and nowhere we've looked has provided any answers. I'd like to think that Munich is always like this, if not all week, then maybe just Sundays.

Ich Bin Ein Berliner (Ein Apfelberliner)

A Berliner is someone from Berlin. It is also a jelly doughnut. An Apfelberliner is delicious. United States President John F. Kennedy came to West Berlin in 1963 and proclaimed that he was a Berliner. I hope he was a Apfelberliner.

So all that mumb-jumbo about not liking cities was wrong. I just like certain cities, and Berlin is one of them. Over the course of a week I fell madly in love with the city, much to the dismay of Annie, though she said she would be willing to join me in my pursuits of the city.

Something I read called Berlin a city which ''Disproportionately shaped the history of the world,'' which is something I would have to agree with, and something that makes it so cool. It was ground zero for seventy years of twentieth century tension, has been more than destroyed and rebuilt, and is everything that Germany is bottled up into a walkable city.

We were in Berlin for eight nights, and I'm sure that wasn't enough. We did a whole lot, and I'm going to recount some of my favorite adventures.

Berlin Day One
So there's this wonderful program in some European cities where they give free walking tours, and the guides work on a tip basis (which is totally a future job pursuit, by the way), so we spent day one getting a crash-course in Berlin. It was a great mix of Third Reich and Cold War history, Prussian stories, displays of modern architecture, basically everything that makes Berlin so cool, which ended with our guide (who was really awesome) recounting how the wall fell. By the end of the day I was already in love with the city.

Red Berlin
Being the history nerd I am, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to take a tour about the historical cold war sites in Berlin, including the wall, government buildings, secret underground tunnels and bunkers, random streets where meetings and uprisings occured, and all sorts of other, really nifty things. Annie and the Polish women sat out this one and I had to go it alone, which was fine by me, as I kind of wanted a chance to explore the city and get to know her myself.

My tour guide had just graduated from Indinana University, having studied ''Radiacal political change,'' which I dont think is a major offered at UNC, though I could be wrong. He was well-versed in spy stories, anecdotes about torture, struggling workers, and daily life in the country with the most domestic spying of any country ever.

At the end of the tour I ran off to a bookshop and picked up a book about the country's history since 1920.

Reichstag
That night, we waited in a ridiculously long line to get to the top of the Reichstag, the German parliament building. While I wanted to go up, I didn't think it would be anything too spectacular. I was wrong. Going up to the roof of the building, with its futuristic, space-station-looking dome, was one of the highlights of my trip. The dome was designed so that German politicians, if ever in doubt, could look up from the chambers and see what their jobs were about, namely, the people. Being on the roof of the old building, which contrasted greatly, yet somehow worked with the dome, afforded incredible views of the city at night. As we were in the last group to go to the top, the crowed thinned out and we got to spend some time relatively alone with the city. In the dome is the history of the Reichstag, which eerily mirrors the history of the German people. One ironic note of history: while the fire in the Reichstag was a dramatic incident that helped Hitler and the Nazi party seize power, it never housed his regime.

Confronting History
Steps from the Brandenburg Gate, the symbol of everything Berlin, lies the Memorial to the Dead Jews of Europe, a massive expansive of more than 2,000 idential cement blocks that create an organized jungle that, at its highest point, stretches taller than two of me.

If I could have done this international project again, I would love to come look at the different ways the Holocaust is remembered in Europe. Being in the Berlin memorial was as emotional experince in a different way from being at Auschwitz-Birkenau. I think its such a hard thing for a country to confront, but I honestly believe that Germany is doing it in extraordinary fashion, and Germans I have spoken to will be the first to recognize and confront the tragedies of the past. To them, its not something to bury, its something to learn from and prevent from ever happening again.

I don't hate the Germans. That was a rant by a disaffected Holland fan who had a bad day. I find Germany, and the Germans, fascinating, and if if Annie wasn't spurring me on, I might have just stayed, adopted a white jersey with the red, yellow, and black eagle, called up my brother to learn a few German phrases, and continued to delve into the city.

So, needless to say, I like Berlin. I was sad leaving it. But don't worry, I'm formulating schemes for getting back to the city, like, for instance, graduate studies. When I start referring to my ''Fullbright plan'' when I get home, this is what I'm talking to. On top of all that, it's one of the cheapest cities to live in, and people talked of apparements that went for €150 a month.

On that note, since I've been here in Europe, working on my project, I've had my eyes opened to all sorts of other things I want to study, not least of which is the perpetual idea of majoring in History, which I'm pretty sure would send my parents into a conniption after my brother pursued the same discipline. I have all these things I want to look into that I just don't have the time to, or the funds. I wish I had the opportunity I've had this summer every summer, which makes me think I should be an academic.

Europe's Dejected Child (Poland)

Sorry about the complete lack of updating this blog. There has been a long time where I've either been having too much fun gallivanting to update the blog, or, more often, I was staying in cheap, crappy hostels that don't have internet. I feel by now I've lost any kind of readership I had before this hiatus, but now I feel ready to get back into it. And so I will

So the first part of this post-project exursion was Poland, and I think I've captured all of Krakow and Wroclaw's glory in the previous post, so now let me get to what I really think of Poland.

It was a beautiful country. Its got wide open spaces, and nifty old-timey cities. I can see why it's neighbors have prided in devouring it over the past several centuries. But more easily, I can clearly see why it was so easily devoured.

Poland was difficult. If you were standing on the border between Poland and Germany, you probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference. But then, if you tried to actually do something in either country, the difference becomes apparent. Germany = easy. Poland = headache. Things don't move smoothly in Poland. For example, the information person in Krakow, Poland's biggest tourist destination, does not speak a word of English. Trains even move slower in Poland, and we even saw one roll into the Krakow pulled along by its coal powered enginew from the 1920s. While Annie had no problem buying a rail pass once we got into Germany, Poland (which doesn't count on my rail pass, I just thought I would reiterate that) didn't even know what we were talking about. I would classify it as a country that has some room for improvement. Read Annie's blog, she's probably got it more spelled out.

But despite all of that, I enjoyed being in Poland. After leaving Wroclaw, Annie and I went to the Polish capital, Warsaw, which is really nothing like the rest of the untry. When we arrived in the city, I remember saying that, to get to our hostel, we had to go right out of the train station. Unfortunately, and in typical Polish fashion, having a front door to the train station would be too easy. Emerging on the other side of the street from the train station (and not realizing it) we went right and started walking. Bear in mind that we got into Warsaw at like, 9:45 p.m, and we're carrying about 1000 pounds of stuff on our backs. So we're walking for a little while, and true to our little hand-drawn map, we pass a roundabout, and keep going. And then civilization ends, street lights diappear, and the sidewalk becomes more or less a dirt trail. After about 45 minutes walking down this path, we began to suspect we weren't going the right direction. Eventually, we came across a bus station, where we hired a cab and tld him where we were heading. He ushed us into the back f his cab, and we took off, for like, 20 minutes. He dropped us off at our hostel, where we checked in with a nice young gentleman with a fantastic mullet, climed several flights to our room, took off our sweat-stained clothes and plopped in bed.

When we awoke the next morning and found a map, we sought out where our journey had taken us. We couldn't find it, and then realized that we had walked off the map. That's never a good thing.

Warsaw was interesting. We spent a whole day just wandering around and looking at stuff. They have really great androgenous mermaid statues (one of which made farting noises and ripples in the fountain it was in), an amazing communist building, sweet bear pits (like Bern!), and a fake palm tree. Oh, and some of the coolest memorials and statues, and an awesome Supreme Court building.

I love Poland. That might be an exaggeration. But I'm willing to come back for Euro 2012. I just hope the trains move faster then.

What I Learned About Myself

So, after slightly less than two months traveling Europe myself, my solo journey came to an end when I met Annie in Krakow, Poland, on the first.

But what did Kevin learn about himself through so much alone time on the European continent?

I really like hamburgers. I'm comforted by the fact that no matter where I go, there is most likely a place to get a good cheeseburger. Pizza too, is a good standby.

More important than hamburgers and pizza, though, is the fact that I really like ice cream. Like, to a bizarre extent, most people would probably say. Some day's I'll have multiple ice cream cones. The guy who ran the ice cream counter near my hostel in Vienna got annoyed with me because I came so often and couldn't order in German. Or I'll get one at the grocery store as I'm wandering around and pick up an ice cream bar. It's just that ice cream - and especially fruit ice cream - is so much better here than in the states. And when it's hot out, nothing is better than a good cone.

While we're on the food thing, I would like to be one of those people who tries a whole bunch of different foods, but I'm just not. I really like food, but I like food that I already like. I had my fair share of Wursts and Schnitzels and Kielbasas and meatloaf sandwiches, which they sell in the Germanic countries, and I had Belgian waffles and fries, but I eat all those things normally (in their Americanized form). But going out of my way to try something new just isn't going to happen with me, especially if I'm fairly confident that I won't like it, because then I feel like I've wasted money and time, and I'm still hungry. I'd rather eat something I know I'll enjoy and be full and happy.

I'm not very good at taking pictures of myself. Each try there's a series of about three or four pictures of me trying to get myself with a good face in the same picture as the background, and most often it doesn't come out.

I'm horrible with languages. Really bad. I was in German-speaking countries for like, a month, and I haven't picked up any German except "Ich spreche deutch nicht" (I don't speak German) and "Hallo!" and I can pronounce a few football-related terms since I've heard so many on television. I'm not even trying with Polish. While I complained incessantly about it while in school, maybe I like the classroom type of learning languages better than the "here, struggle with this" kind, seeing as I felt moderately comfortable talking to people in Spanish, and not in anything else.

Swiss chocolate is better than Belgian chocolate. Period.

Parks are awesome. I think the first thing I did when I got to a city was scour a map for green space, or if there was no map, then I would just go wander to find something like a park. I would then return there multiple times throughout the day to run, to read, or when I had nothing to do I would just lie around and people watch.

While I like being able to have "Kevin time," traveling alone got old after a while. Mostly because I had nobody to talk to when I had witty things to say (which, lets be honest, happens quite often), but traveling with someone tends to relax me, especially when things start to go wrong.

I miss reading when I'm in the real world. Here I have ample opportunities to read, especially train rides and days when there was no football, and I've gone through like, 6 books since I've started this trip, and some of them were quite big. Throw on top of that a magazine or two a week (basically anything I can find in English), and I've been doing a lot of reading, and I love it. Plus, it's books that I actually want to read, and that I don't have to do anything with when I'm done, which makes things better. the only downside is that I have a hard time parting with them, so my pack keeps getting heavier.

I'm a big football (soccer, whatever) fan now. Hopefully it will stay with me.

Finally, the ultimate revelation: I'm not a city boy. My favorite stops on this trip have been Grindelwald (barely a town) and Bern (the smallest city ever, and not very city-like, more old-timey). Given the opportunity, I'd much rather head to the mountains or the beach (which hasn't come yet, but I'm sure it will) instead of a city. The noise, pollution, hustle and bustle, the "I need to be here now" atmosphere really isn't my thing. I like the old-timey cities with cobblestone streets and markets and street vendors and short buildings and that jazz, but not the metallic, tower-over you, subway and tram, skyscraper cities.

Alright, that's all for now, more to come later.

Now You Can Call It Gallivanting

I know it has been quite a long time (in blogging terms) since my last post. So I'll try to catch the world up on the past week.

I spent my last day in Vienna doing laundry and packing up all of the clothing, books, hygiene materials, etc. that tend to leap from a backpack to the floor over the course of 12 days in the same city. Te sad thing is that, while it looks like I have a lot of stuff when it's spread all over the floor of my tiny hostel room, it can probably fit into one washer if I really wanted it to, and that's sad. I have managed to pick up more clothing as I've gone along, and I'm always thankful I unloaded that bundle at the Boulicault's in England.

So what does Kevin do now that football is over? He spends the rest of his summer wandering Europe with Annie, of course. I was originally planning to spend two weeks in Germany working with a sports research institute there, and then go travel, but my only contact there was going on vacation, and said I probably shouldn't come. Fine by me. On top of that, I was getting quite tired of traveling alone, and like any whiny, needy boyfriend I was missing my girlfriend. Plus, who doesn't want two extra weeks of traveling in Europe instead of working?

So now is the part of the trip that is officially not "research" and that all of you can refer to as gallivanting or traipsing or being a tourist or whatever implies that I'm just on vacation, because I now officially am.

Let's see how it's going:

On Tuesday I caught a train from Vienna to Krakow (well, actually two trains, but that's not really important). And when I got off in Krakow, there was Annie. Yay! We spent two days in Krakow, which is a very old-timey Polish city, and basically the only place in Poland not to get destroyed in World War II. We saw the old market square (each city in Poland has one, and they all kind of look similar), which was nice. There was a giant statue of a head in the main square, which was great for taking funny pictures:


We also wandered around the Wawel (pronounced Va-vel, though I still like to say Wa-wel, because that's more fun), which is the castle that kind of overlooks the city. Not as cool as the Edinburgh castle, I have to admit, but still pretty cool.

Coolest thing about Krackow: when we were wandering around the Wawel, we saw this cool iron statue of a dragons, and decided to take a picture of it. While I was taking the picture, the statute started breathing fire. Yeah, breathing fire. It was awesome. The legend of the city's founding has something to do with someone slaying a dragon, but I'm not really sure how it goes.

On the second full day in Krakow, we went to Auschwitz-Birkenau, the largest Nazi concentration camp from World War II. While I wouldn't say that I was "excited" about going, it has always been somewhere I wanted to visit. The Auschwitz camp itself is very much like a museum, which is what I imagined it would be like. It was a lot smaller than I expected, and being there on such a nice day made it hard to imagine that such a terrible atrocity could happen there.

From Auschwitz, you can take a tram to Birkenau, which was the "extermination site," where more than 2 million Jews, Poles, and other groups were murdered in gas chambers. Birkenau has a completely different feel from Auschwitz. The first thing is how massive it is. It stretches forever in every direction, and it's nothing but cabins, which one can imagine being packed with prisoners. There are no trees like there were at Auschwitz, and it's completely flat, so you can see everything. It's so simple when you look at it, with everything made of wood except the main entrance, the railroad track, and the barbed-wire fence. All the information points to 75% of arrivals at Birkenau being murdered as soon as they arrived, and seeing how massive the camp was, gives an incredible feel for how many people passed through the camp. At the back of the camp are the sites of the gas chambers, which were destroyed by the Nazis with dynamite when they fled the camp. The ruins have been preserved, and there is a memorial to the holocaust victims.

I don't really know what to say about visiting the camp. It was a sobering experience, and its so weird to actually see what I've heard so much about. It doesn't make the tragedy any more real to me though. I know it happened, and I've seen how and where it was done, but it's still so impossible to comprehend something like that.

From Krakow we took a bus (a bus? really? I didn't think people took long-distance busses since the 70s, but they do in Poland, which I think says a lot about the country) to Zakopane, a mountain town which is the heart of winter life in Poland.

Side rant: While all signs would make you think that Poland would count on my rail pass, like the fact that its cities are included in the pass' time table book, or that it's routes are clearly indicated on the map, or the fact that the travel agent said that "the Czech Repulic is the only country on this map that isn't included" (and Poland was on that map), it does not, in fact, count on my rail pass.

Zakopane is pretty. It's exactly like all the ski villages, and I can imagine it being really cute during winter, with all sorts of people in ski clothing and carrying skis and poles (poles-Poles, get it! I love Poland puns). As it was summer, it wasn't too busy. They sell cheese in Zakopane. A lot of cheese, and while it's pretty good, I can't begin to comprehend how a cheese shops selling the same exact kind of cheese can exist every five feet.

Our reason for going to Zakopane was to get in some hiking (because let's face it, neither Annie nor I are really city folk), but the weather had other plans. While it was gorgeous in Krakow, Annie managed to jinx the weather into being rainy while we were in Zakopane. Instead of hiking, we wandered around the city, hung around in our hostel and watched movies. We eventually braved the weather and found a trail that got inreasingly smaller and more dangerous until we weren't quite sure that we should be hiking. On top of that everything was wet from the rain (including us), so that was fun. The plus side of the whole adventure was at the top there was a cool rock formation which made for a great picture-taking spot.

Then we almost died like, 14 times each on the way down, and it was impossible not to laugh the whole way.

From Zakopane, we caught a bus back Krakow and then a train to Wroclaw (which is pronounced Vrotes-slav, because the Poles are crazy, but I still call it Row-claw), which is a college city with another cool square and random things to see, including a massive painting that I haven't seen yet. But really, the reason we came here is because when Annie was here last summer, she said it had the best strawberry ice cream in the world, and Kevin has a soft spot for strawberry ice cream. What she didn't tell me, however, was that she didn't really remember where it was. So we spent last night wandering around the city in search of some ice cream stand that might spark her memory. We think we found it, but Annie's still not sure. It was definitely good ice cream, but without the assurance that it is, in fact, the world's best that Annie remember, I'm not sure I'm going to believe.

My itinerary has changed for those who are interested. From Wroclaw, we're going to Warsaw for a few nights, and then we're heading to Berlin for like, a week. From Berlin we're going to Munich (though there might be a random stop somewhere else first). After Munich, we're not quite sure where we're heading, though we think it will be some combination of Austrian Alps (yay, more mountains) and then to the north/east of Italy, where we can catch a ferry to Croatia by the 26th. We'll be in Croatia for a little while, and then heading to Frankfurt, Germany, where we both fly out of on August 7th.

There Was Something In the Air That Night

The stars were bright. Fernando.
They were shining there for you and me.
For Liberty. Fernando.

Though I never thought that we could lose
There's no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would my friend. Fernando.

My contribution to UEFA Euro 2008's atmosphere was to lead a hodge-podge English-speaking contingent in a rendition of an Abba song in honor of the final match's only goal scorer. And so my month of football ends with a solitary goal by Fernando Torres to give Spain their first Cup victory in 44 years. The last time they won, they beat the Soviet Union. In all fairness, the last time Russia won, it was the Soviet Union.

Everybody is crediting Vienna with being a great host city, and in many respects it was (good weather, not too expensive, great Fan Zone), but to give Vienna all the credit overlooks the seven other cities (four of which I saw) that did an incredible job hosting. And on that note, I really wanted one of the Vienna host city t-shirts, because I've spent so much time here and the city has really grown on me, but by the time I headed into the store, alas, they were sold out. I might try scouring the city today looking for one, though I don't know what that might turn up.

It went much quicker than I thought it would, and was a lot more fun than I could ever have imagined. And the football was really good, too. But it has been an incredible experience, being here, and many of my favorite parts of it never made it into this blog or into emails back home, so I thought I would take some time on this ultimate Vienna hangover day and recount what really stood out to me on this tournament, from the ground level. So, in chronological order, and not necessarily in order of greatness, I present my favorite moments of being at Euro 2008.

Saturday, June 7
The first game was also a Switzerland game. Despite their atrociousness, the Swiss fans loved them, and it was a great introduction to the world of European fandom.

Monday, June 9
Determined to get where the action really was, and having fallen in love with the city two days earlier, I decided to take a train from Basel back to Bern for the first group 3 games - France v. Romania and The Netherlands v. Italy. The Netherlands-Italy game would be played in Bern, and I got my first taste of what actually happens at tournaments like this.
This was before I was a Holland fan. It wouldn't take long for me to become one. When I say that Bern was completely orange, that would be an understatement, because it supposes that I'm exaggerating. The water coming out of the city's fountains was orange. The air surrounding everything had an orange haze because of numerous smoke bombs. Orange paint splashed on the road and buildings. And everybody, everybody, was dressed in orange.
Holland completely routed the World Champions Italy and quickly became the tournament's favorites. But I didn't realize this at the time, I was too busy being mobbed by a group of orangemen that was way too big to fit into the fan zone.
On the train ride back, which took a little more than an hour, I sat with a group of three Dutchmen, who introduced me to everything great about the team, its history and why I should cheer for them for the rest of the tournament. I happily obliged and bought my Holland jersey the next morning.

Thursday, June 12
I'm not really sure who played this night, but it was one I spent in Grindelwald, which has by far been above and beyond my favorite adventure within this larger adventure and my favorite stop on this whirlwind tour of Europe. Not really related to the tournament, but fun nonetheless.

Tuesday, June 17
By this time I was fully entrenched in my Dutch fanness, and was proudly cheering them on as they played Romania, already having qualified for the finals. Since there's an entire post on this evening, I won't go into much more. But you should read that post if you haven't.

Wednesday, June 18
The final night of group game saw Russia play Sweden, a match that would determine who would and Spain play Greece. I was in Zürich, and thinking that there wouldn't be a big turn out of fans for any side, I thought I would just stay in. My hunger led me out. The reason the night was so good, aside from being Andrei Arshavin's stunning first appearance in the tournament, is that the Fan Zone was packed with Swedes, and every time I turned around I heard someone speaking exactly like the Swedish chef from the Muppets. Gobbly-gobbly.

Friday, June 20
This was the night I managed to get tickets for the tournament's second quarter final between Croatia and Turkey. If its any indication of how easy it was to get tickets, as of last night there were still leftover t-shirts for the match on sale.
But the house was packed, and the game went into extra time, where both teams scored in the last possible minute, pushing the game into penalties. At this point everybody in the stadium was going incredibly crazy. Most people don't like penalties, because they don't establish who was the better team. That's probably true, but they are really exciting, giving us numerous chances to cheer.
Most incredible thing about the night, however, is the fact that I ran into Alex Lim, who just happened to be sitting right behind me.


Sunday, June 22
Not thinking that I would get to go to another game, I was surprised to overhear a scalper offering tickets for less than face value. I promptly took him up on it, and made my way over to Ernst-Hoppel Stadium.
I was deep in the Spanish section for their game against Italy, a team I wanted to see lose anyway, so I gladly assumed the mantle of Spain fan for the evening, and a man next to me even lent me his scarf for the evening so I could cheer properly and not look too out of place. Since the quarterfinals started, it was the first time a team I wanted to win actually won. It also gave me a good reason for cheering for Spain as they progressed through the rest of the tournament.
On top of all that, I got to practice my Spanish, which I haven't really been able to do since fall semester, and probably will never have the chance to do again. And I got to beat on my neighbor's obnoxiously large drum, which is just fun.


Sunday, June 29
Obviously, the final was always going to be one of my favorite moments, it was just a matter of why. While I wasn't able to procure tickets at a reasonable price (they we're going for 500-700 Euros, and I figured I'd rather be able to eat for the next month), I wasn't alone.
When I woke up in the morning, I wasn't sure who I'd be cheering for, but I trusted that my answer would come in due time.
And then the German fans turned hostile. Vicious. Jerks. In To Hate Like this is to Be Happy Forever, author Will Blythe is questioned by a young boy why he so adamantly cheers against Duke. He responds (and this isn't a direct quote): "Because they're bad people." "All of them?" the boy replies. "Yes, every single one of them."
The German fans are all bad people. I didn't think this until yesterday. But on the whole, they were obnoxious, rude, crass, and just unfriendly. Like hurricanes they left a path of destruction in their wake. And here I was not hating anybody, and just because I wasn't German I was being ridiculed.
They hate the Dutch, for no other reason than the Dutch hate them. It's a long historical rivalry dating through two World Wars and climaxing in 1988 when the Dutch beat the Germans in the Euro Cup, where they celebrated throwing bicycles in the air. For more information of this wonderful rivalry, check out the first chapter of Simon Kuper's Football Against the Enemy.
So, decked in my Netherlands jersey (because any time Germany plays, Holland has a reason to cheer) and a Spain-colored wig, I headed out into the taunts and jeers of drunken German fans, armed with the wonderful retort, "Actually, I'm American, and we've beaten you in two World Wars, and Spain's going to win," which managed to eke some smiles out of drunken German fans.
A British man I befriended adequately described the atmosphere here in Vienna, "It's like a freaking colony here." One could say it was sympathetic to Germany, but that would be an understatement. While there were a couple cells of Spanish fans, but overwhelmingly, the mood was pro-German. Makes sense, seeing as they're neighbors, have radically similar cultures and the same language.
Which is why it was so great when Spain scored in the thirty-third minute and Germany just fell apart. And as the game wound down, and Spain just kept firing shot after shot at the German defense, the German's just sulked out of Fan Zone, and when the 90th minute rolled around the Spanish fans (who were now much more prevalent) erupted in jubilation. I knew it would be a good night after that.

Viva Espana.

Also, in chronological order, my favorite goals of the tournament:
Wesley Sneijder - Netherlands v. Italy, June 9: Total Netherlands "total football," as the Dutch swept almost the full length of the field to finish in Sneijder's right-footed goal.
Arjen Robber - Netherlands v. France, June 13: As if to say that getting scored on by France didn't really mean anything, less than a minute after the French goal, Robben dribbled around two French defenders and took an incredibly odd-angled shot to hit the net.
Wesley Sneijder - Netherlands v. France, June 13: Shot hit the underside of the crossbar from right outside the box. Beautiful goal that showed just how good the Netherlands were in group play.
Michael Ballack - Germany v. Austria, June 16: One of the best free kicks I've ever seen.
Andrei Arshavin - Russia v. Sweden, June 18: After missing the tournament's first two games, slid at full speed to catch a pass from Yuri Zhirkov to show why he would become the most talked-about player of the tournament.
Bastian Schweinsteiger - Germany v. Portugal, June 18
Semih Senturk - Turkey v. Croatia, June 20: In the last minute of extra time, trailing 1-0 against Croatia, the Turks made their third miraculous comeback of the tournament on a goal that seemed to come out of nowhere. Not really a pretty goal, but great for what it stood for.
Dimitri Torbinski - Russia v. Netherlands, June 21: Another goal that showcased Arshavin's ability to play make and why the Russians are a force to be reckoned with in international soccer once again.
And I guess Torres' goal last night, simply for the fact that it won the tournament, but it wasn't anything really spectacular, just a lot of determination.

Look them up on YouTube, I'm sure they're there.

What I've Learned about Soccer

For what I've really learned about soccer, and the results of all I've been researching go to my other blog here: http://politicalpitches.blogspot.com. But that's a less fun blog and more focused on compiling everything I've learned, but seeing as how someone else is footing this bill on this football-related adventure, I figured it was best to churn out some actual knowledge. It will be updated as I have time to collect my thoughts and put them in paragraph and blog post form.

Now, for the fun, travel-blog.

So today marks the end of what has been 21 days of football. Spain v. Germany. I'm still not quite sure who I'll be cheering for when kickoff comes at 8:45 tonight, though I'm tending to lean toward Germany at the moment, which belies everything my Dutch fandom from the first half of the tournament has taught me, and my three semesters as a Spanish student.

Two historically powerful teams still proving that they're powerful. Three weeks of soccer. Vienna is overrun by Spaniards and Germans. It is game 39 of 39. The tournament is over, and club seasons across the continent are over. Tomorrow morning we will wake up and there will be no more international soccer. Actually, there probably will be. Somewhere in the world someone will be playing to qualify for the 2010 World Cup, or nations will be playing friendlies for no apparent reason. On top of that, Major League Soccer - America's wonderful league - is just ratcheting up.

I guess that's the first thing I've learned.
1) Football is never over. There is very little offseason for a football player, especially a good one, who goes from regular season games to national competitions to international club competitions to international competitions. Every two years there is either a European Cup or a World Cup, and the previous two years are spent qualifying for these tournaments. Or, if none of the above is going on, nations will be playing friendlies against each other or doing charity or showcase games somewhere in the world.

2) Despite wanting to be, I am still no better than when I got cut from the Green Hope team after one round of tryouts. Nor do I have a left foot. I have played in a few pickup games (mostly while I've been out for runs because that's the only time I've really been dressed for it) and I've kicked the ball around with a few strangers or roommates, and I've come to realize that I'm just not very good at the sport, and that maybe the coaches were justified in not seeing my potential, which I'm starting to see might not have ever been there.

3) I do have the potential, however, to be a very good fan. I've realized it takes a few things, but I think I've got them down. First it takes a willingness to forget about everything else while a game is going on. Check, I've done that. I even lost a notebook during the Russia-Spain game, which was horrible for this project (sorry, Foundation) but made me realize that I actually care. Second, it takes an uncanny ability to rhyme. Check. I spent all last summer coming up with post-meal, pre-activity cheers for 10- to 12-year-old boys. I even rhymed with Cardigan. Third, it takes a willingness to blow substantial money on the sport. I think we can all tell from the simple fact that I'm here that I'm capable of that. Reading up on the sport? Check. Knowing random statistics and facts? Check, that's what this project is all about.

So while the dream of playing football at a high level might be all but dead, maybe a new dream of being a fan at a high level is just being born. Besides, I think American teams could use a little of this European fandom I have come to understand so blindingly well.

4) The Dutch have the best fans in the World. While the Irish I have met assure me that their brand of cheering is head and shoulders above the Dutch, and they just haven't had the opportunity to show it, I don't think I believe them. After 80,000 Dutchmen invaded Bern, Switzerland, in the first few days of the tournament, painted the streets literally orange, and provided the whole city a reason to celebrate, I think they easily take the cake. On top of all that, when they beat Germany in the 1988 they threw bicycles in the air. Bicycles. In the air. Think about that.

5) German fans drink more than any other nation's fans. All the bartenders I've talked to (which really isn't a lot) want Germany to win because it will be so good for business. Russians might drink faster (and harder), but the Germans drink more.

6) Calling American football "football" really doesn't make any sense. I already knew this, but every European I begin to talk to about football has to inform me that our version of football neither uses feet (except in a few rare instances) nor does it really use a ball.

7) When there's soccer, everything stops. Today is the final, and not a single store on the main thoroughfare will be open. Austria isn't even playing, yet everybody has closed down shop and

8) It's more of a people sport, I think. I got tickets for the Spain v. Italy match, a quarterfinal in what is the third largest sporting event in the world, for cheaper than it costs for a decent Carolina Hurricanes ticket. The people that have travelled all this way, especially from countries like Turkey and Croatia, are not executive, business types, with lots of money to spend on their team. They are everyday guys who are really passionate about their team and are willing to give up three weeks, or one week, or one night of their life to follow them to a foreign country to cheer them on.

9) It's the perfect length for a sport. It's long enough to be worth your money, but its also short enough to stay interested the whole time. I can even stand around and watch without being annoyed by the predicament. It's long enough to be a challenge, so that only really good athletes can participate at the best levels, but its short enough so that nobody is completely destroyed by it, unlike marathon running. It's also short enough, and consistent enough, to eliminate the need for commercials, which is always a plus for the viewer.

10) Everybody is a soccer fan. Even people you wouldn't expect. In fact, especially people you wouldn't expect. It's strange seeing the gothic, anti-social looking people who we Americans so accustomed to thinking hate sports actually passing around a ball. And the hippie types who usually look to lethargic to pass around a ball are juggling instead of hacky sacking. Businessmen open to the sports page on the subway. Old ladies are adorned with face paint.

But even after all this, men, aged 20-35, are by far and away the most dedicated and enthusiastic fans I've seen. Nowadays I don't see any of them in shirts that aren't somehow related to Germany or Spain, and they're usually already drunk, even if its 10 in the morning. Actually, they're drunk, but not too drunk to pay attention to games and football talk. They're really a breed of their own. They can pull facts and stats from nowhere, give play-by-play replays of the previous night's (or week's) match, and inform you of who will be traded where and when.

11) One day, maybe not soon, but not too far in the future, American soccer will be good. We've been flirting around the edges for the past few decades, and I wouldn't be surprised if in 2 years or 6 years, the national team starts looking really good. It's going to take some time (and quite a bit of investment) to make the league good, but I disagree with all the American sports writers who say that soccer will never be big in America. It's too big around the world never to catch on. Plus its such an amazing sport, and every little boy and girl in America plays it.

And finally, I've learned that I really like the sport. A lot of people said I would get tired of it, that after three straight weeks of soccer that I wouldn't want to watch it any more. But that really hasn't been the case at all. In fact, I find myself more invested in following the sport than when I started, knowing more about the players, teams, and world of the sport than I could have fathomed two months ago. I'm truly a fan of the sport (and a few choice teams and players), and that's something that I think will stay with me.

Last Time I Saw the Sky That Color...

You know how some things are just bad omens? Some times mother nature tells you to leave. Bad things happen when you don't.

When I was really little, probably in the 8-10 range, my parents decided to take the whole family to a Jimmy Buffett concert. I don't really remember much of it (some of that might have to do with the atmosphere there), but I do know that a really bad storm rolled through and the sky turned a really weird orange color right before all hell broke loose. We were trapped under the stands for a long time, and I don't think Jimmy got to play too many songs.

Last night the sky over Vienna was that same orange color. It happened at about 8:40, five minutes before kickoff. I knew I probably shouldn't stick around, but I haven't been rational in a few days - mostly because I don't get much sleep here.

With two games left in the tournament, I was adamant that I wasn't going to miss any more games like I missed the Germany one, so I figured that I'd just wait it out in hopes that the storm would blow over like all the other Vienna storms had, and I could get on my merry way watching football.

That never happened. Instead, lightning started crashing down and the skies just opened up and what seemed to be the end of the world occurred. There were bits of hail and stuff was blowing everywhere.

But lucky me. I had a poncho. And a recently-purchased baseball cap.

As stubborn as I could be, I was determined not to miss this game like I had the previous nights, so I toughed it out. I wasn't alone either, which greatly surprised me. There were hundreds of other fans in the Fan Zone alongside me, getting soaked and wind-beaten and generally destroyed by this crazy storm. For some reason I felt less crazy because of that, when really these are football fans we're talking about - the craziest of the crazy.

And right as the final whistle blew, the rain started to let up. Because that's how things like that work. But I didn't have any problem sleeping last night.

Now my only pair of shorts are soaking wet (as is a t-shirt, but that's of less importance), which is kind of a problem, but I can wear gym shorts about town while I wait for them to dry.

It would have been great for my project, from multiple angles, if Russian had won the tournament. Even if they got to the finals it would have been good, seeing as there's incredible historical irony in Russians and Germans battling it out in Austria. Plus the most EU-ified country vs. the total outsider, that would have been pretty good too. Plus, only one Russian player plays in one of the continent's big five leagues. Plus they beat Holland, and secretly it would have been vindication if they had eventually won it. But, alas, my historical nerd's dream of such a final is not to come to fruition, and why should it? I only braved the most terrible storm in the history of Vienna, risking my life and limb, (okay, that might be exaggeration) to see it.

How I Missed a Whole Game

I'm sure it was a spectacular game. That's what all the news reports said. I tried to watch, I really did. It wasn't like I was doing anything else at the time. But it just seemed like fate was stacked against me for watching this game.

Despite attempting for the full two hours to watch the game, I missed all five goals and the end of the match. Let me explain.

I showed up to the fan zone about two hours before kickoff and did my normal "go around and talk to people" routine, which yielded fine results. About 15 minutes before kickoff I took a seat in the giant field where they air the game, ready for what I was sure would be an exciting match. It was at this point that I noticed the awfully dark clouds gathering on the horizon, but I figured they would be plenty of time before anything materialized.

At kickoff, I looked back and noticed that the dark clouds were now pretty much right on top of me. Determined to see the game, I held my ground as people started making for the exit. It was at this point that a warning announcement came over the loudspeaker noting that a storm was approaching and that it was expected to hail. We were asked to make for the exit. This was around 20 minutes.

It took me 10 minutes to get to the closest pub. Anybody who was watching the game knows that in this 10 minutes, Boral scored for Turkey and Schweinsteiger equalized for Germany, meaning I had missed two goals walking from the game to the game. That made me unhappy.

As I rolled into the pub through the rain, and was filled in on the goals, which isn't the same as seeing them at all, I took a seat by one of the pub's many TVs. No hail would get me now, and I could watch the rest of the game in warmth, dryness, and peace. I watched as the first half came to a close, and the pub changed the channel during halftime, so I missed the half's highlights.

The second half started out relatively slow, and I watched as it trudged along. It started picking up again at about 70 minutes, and then at 75 minutes, the unthinkable happened. The TV cut out. Due to the bad weather, the Pub's satellite signal gave out, and they assured us that it would be back on soon. Soon wasn't soon enough as when the game cut back on, Germany was leading and I had missed the game's third goal.

At this point I was starting to get unhappy. This is the first game I'd really missed any of this whole tournament, and to miss this one (which actually has goals) just really isn't cool. So I sat in silence secretly hoping Germany or Turkey would score again if for no other reason than I would get to see another goal.

Then the screen cut back off. People started yelling and jeering, and I just stared in disbelief. Obscenities were flying at the bar manager and I just backed into the corner.

When the screen cut back on, the game was over and Germany was sitting on the pitch celebrating and Lukas Podolski was jumping into the crowd taking people's paraphernalia. They had scored two more goals, and fended off a late-minute Turkey offensive. It was at this point that the bar manager, realizing I had finished my drink, asked me if I wanted anything else. I said I just wanted to watch the highlights, and then I would be gone. He told me if I wanted to do that I'd have to buy another drink. Disgruntled, telling the bar manager that he should be buying the whole pub drinks, I picked up my hat, headed out into the rain, and wandered back to my hostel. I still haven't seen the goals.

Hopefully, the same won't happen tonight, and if it does, I might just fly back to the states so I can watch the game in peace.