Lis and Tyler in Germany

Some people we meet are traveling for 3 months, 5 months, even a year. Some are single women, traveling alone. Some are using English (often the only common language), maybe their second, third or fourth language, to communicate as they go from country to country. One Seattlite is riding his bike through Europe. All of these hardcore, longterm, serious travelers. And we just finished our fifth week and I’ve hit a wall. I’m tired of living out of my backpack, wearing the same jeans and the same three shirts, putting sheets on new hostel bed after new hostel bed. Things that were once charming, fun and excitingly adventurous like washing socks and underwear in sinks and finding chairbacks, hangers or balconies to dry them on, navigating metro systems, seeking out internet cafes and packing bread, cheese and salami picnics, are now tedious and irritating. Things I never did really love, like slimy, haircovered showers with low water pressure and luke-warm water, are threatening to push me over the edge. My brain is saturated, my patients are low, my feet are tired, my wallet is empty and I’m ready to come home. Am I too old for hostel living? Or am I just not hardcore?

Countdown: one week

We just left our peaceful haven at Frido and Xenia’s villa (Dame de Salema) along the southern coast of Portugal.  Of all the little villages in the Algarve, we chose Salema on Rick Steves’ recommendation and were so glad to have found this gem.  This is a great example of why Rick’s books (and others like it) are so beneficial.  Many guidebooks serve as a directory–a list of places, hours, phone numbers, prices, etc.–not offering much in the way opinion.  An opinion helps the reader to rank and prioritize sites and cities.  And we’ve found that Rick’s taste is similar enough to our own that we can bank on his advice, skip what he skips, and head straight to his favorite destinations.  Anyway, at this time of year Salema is this wonderful, sleepy fishing village full of locals and right on the water.  We had the whole place to ourselves.  Being Frido and Xenia’s only guests, we were spoiled by their attention and hospitality.  Frido took us on a tour of the area by car one day, they took us out for dinner one night and to a farmer’s market in the next village another day.  We walked the dogs with Frido at sunset each evening and enjoyed Xenia’s breakfasts each morning.  We could have stayed for weeks hiking up and down the cliffs along the water, seeing overlooked and untouristed Roman ruins, dinosaur footprints (so Frido says…does anyone know if this could really be true??), almond trees in blossom and “the end of the earth.”  But alas we had to move on, working our way through these vast countries (Spain and Portugal are huge) toward Barcelona, where we fly from on Feb 17, to go back to Germany to get our bags and wrap things up.

Countdown: 9 days

When in Rome, we ate dinner at the Beehive every night.  We got to chatting with Laura, the cook, and learned that she had a friend from a small mountain town in Tuscany who was coming to stay with her for the week, leaving his apartment free.  We took the intercity bus through th beautiful (even in winter) countryside to Stia which is outside of Arezzo (we still haven’t bothered to find it on a map).  At Bar Roma, across the street from  the bus stop, I used my broken Spanish to ask to use the phone so we could call Pierro, who had the keys.  You could almost see the gossip spread as we lugged our packs through town trying to find the aparment, turning heads and causing people to lean just a little further out their windows.

It was fun to create an image of Hilaire O’loughlin, Irishman turned Italian, as we got to know his home, his town and his neighbors.  The electricity is touchy…only a few lights and one of the two hot water heaters at a time or you’ll blow a fuse.  Only a fire for heat (which we actually really needed the whole time we were there…this part of Italy is not warm year round) and no phone.  So he leads a simple life at a slow pace.  His bookshelves are lined with books in French, Italian and English on topics such as photography, architecture, interior decorating and poetry.  He’s good friends with his butcher and told us if we needed help in English, we could go see the barber.  Vito the barber actually came in quite handy.  I left my coat on the bus and couldn’t manage to get a hold of anyone at the bus station who spoke any English and my terrible Spanish was not cutting it.  I took my scrap of paper with the phone number to the station in Florence to Vito and asked him to give it a shot.  He handed the paper right back to me and said he knew one of the bus drivers…he’d just call him.  He should be at Bar Roma right about now.  We loved small-town life.

We stopped in Pisa (we flew from Pisa to Spain to save ourselves a day on the train) and saw the tower.  Boy does it lean.  It was POURING down rain and we were too stubborn to buy an umbrella so got absolutely soaked.  We really didn’t see much of Pisa, but I have to say, it didn’t seem like there was much to see.  However, we did find the best pizzeria in the world.  Filippo’s, right by our hotel and across the street from the train station, serves Cicino (not sure on the spelling), which is a thin chickpea pancake fried in olive oil and sprinkled with pepper that just melts in your mouth.  We had that as an appetizer and thought nothing could be better.  Then we had the pizza.  Oh wow.  It’s worth a trip to Pisa.

Now we’re in Sevilla, Spain.  My Spanish is improving (the fact that they actually speak Spanish here, not Italian, might help) and it’s actually quite useful. Fewer people speak English and when you ask them something in Spanish, even really broken Spanish, they still answer in Spanish.   I know this seems obvious, but in Germany it’s hard to learn or practice your German because if someone sees you’re struggling, they just reply in their perfect English to save you both the hassle.  Last night we enjoyed tapas, paella and a flamenco show.  The dancing was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.  And I’ve seen flamenco.  I can’t even describe it. You’ll just have to come to Sevilla, the capital of flamenco dancing, and see it for yourself.

P.S. For those participating in the countdown: two weeks and one day!!!

I’m drinking a glass of wine (yep.) and eating a nice crusty piece of fresh bread with green olive tapenade and another with a perfect, garlicky white bean spread and fresh tomato slices. KPLU (Seattle’s public radio station) happens to be playing (I guess they get it from the internet or something) in the background and the smell of whatever’s for dinner is drifting in. We’re staying at The Beehive, a hostel/hotel in Rome. The lounge has free internet and couches and pictures of the owner’s kids on the walls and it’s right off the kitchen and feels like your best friend’s living room. And I guess since we haven’t been in a best friend’s living room for a year, it feels wonderful. We’ve been spending most of our time in Rome sitting in this lounge.

We have managed to get out and see the major attractions. The weather is perfect and because it’s winter there are no crowds or lines. We’ve walked right in to the Vatican Museum, St. Peter’s Basilica, the Colosseum, and the pantheon, many of which have 3-4 hour long lines in the summer. It’s a great time of year to travel.

A couple of days before coming to Rome we were in Egypt where we saw the pyramids and the sphinx, rode camels through the desert and ate more delicious Mediterranean food. The pollution and garbage and smog were overwhelming. I was surprised by how depressed and impoverished the country was. Donkey-drawn carts were “driving” down the highways carrying loads of beautiful purple, white and orange carrots, huge heads of cabbage, oranges and bananas. Ladies carrying bags and baskets on their heads and children and babies in their arms and on their backs walked along the shoulder. The houses were ALL under construction with rebar sticking out of the top floor, ready for another story to be added for the next generation.

My head is growing…about to explode. Now we’re in Rome with big, beautiful, intricate churches covered in gold and marble, priceless works of art, museums full of jewels and an embarrassment of riches on our plates and in our bellies each night. But Egypt is full of valuable exports, just equally full of corruption and lacking in a wealth-distribution system. If only we could solve the world’s problems.

Today we’re on the Cyprus Island, which is actually its own strange little country.  The north is occupied by Turks, the South by Greeks and it has an odd British influence.  The cars drive on the wrong side of the road, the steering wheels are on the wrong side, and the prices are listed in British Pounds, even though they use the Euro.  The official languages are Turkish and Greek, but a lot of the signs are in English.  It’s beautiful out but not hot.  We walked along the water today and loved hearing the waves crash and smelling the sea.  It reminded me (if I ignored the palm trees) of walking along the beach at home because of the cold breeze coming off the water.

Here and in Olympia, Athens and Rhodes there seems to be a huge stray animal problem.  I’m never found cats to be gross before, but they’re everywhere.  Roaming the streets, mangy, skittering about like rats.  There are thousands of dogs and cats in need of homes, food, vets and love, but I can’t even imagine where you’d start.   (obviously with a sterilization program of some sort…but it’s SO out of control.)

 Aside from the animals, we’re really enjoying Greece and Turkey.  The food is to die for and the history here is truly unbelievable.  We were wishing we were traveling with a history professor.  I should have paid more attention in school.  But lots of the stuff we’ve seen is from hundreds of years B.C.  And what continues to amaze me is that people are STILL living in these places.  Talk about having your roots somewhere. 

I’d say the most interesting thing we’ve seen (history buffs and academics, close your eyes.  This isn’t to say we didn’t enjoy and appreciate the acropolis and Olympia…) was the market in Izmir, Turkey.  We went to this huge street market (probably covering at least a square mile) where locals were doing their daily shopping.  Clothes, food, crafts, leather, bulk spices and nuts and even household cleaning products filled the booths lining the streets.  The sales people were extremely pushy with tourists and we didn’t take a single picture because we didn’t want to slow down long enough.  And when I tried to take a picture at the metro station of a man selling pistachios, I was shooed away and yelled at. 

Anyway, my time is up at the internet cafe… more soon!

I am the proud Godmother of the two-day-old Olivia Lois Copeland, born to our dear friends Maren and Jon Copeland.  I cannot wait to meet her!  Welcome to the world, sweet Olivia.

 Tyler and I are off to bathe in the thermal baths on the mountain top…

Today we went to Mass at the royal cathedral in the Hofburg Imperial Palace in Vienna where we heard the Vienna Boys’ Choir sing, accompanied by a live chamber orchestra.  Yesterday we saw where Mozart lived, and organ he played and walked along the Salzaug river in Salzburg.  Two days ago we had beers with locals at a “Stammtisch” at the Hofbrauhaus in Munich (seating by invitation only) and saw Neuschwanstein (the castle Walt Disney modeled Cinderella’s castle after).  We cannot get over the HUGENESS of all that we are seeing and doing.  Vienna reminds us both of Paris…full of culture, art, music, monstrous buildings and more sites than you could see in a lifetime.  Sitting in an old coffee shop, enjoying the absolute best cup of coffee I have ever had and eating the pastry of the day (peach cake.  We were hoping for Sachertorte, Vienna’s famous chocolate cake, so when we were done there, we went to the next coffee shop and got a piece) and talking to each other through the thick smoke haze, we proclaimed that we absolutely must come back.

 (I saved this entry without actually posting it, so now it’s the next day…)

 We are now in Bad Gastein, a tiny ski village in Austria.  Tyler is out on the slopes and I just got back from a gorgeous hike.  It’s sunny out and the perfect day to be playing in the Alps.  Although I can’t really imagine a bad time to be playing in the Alps…

Tomorrow we take the train to Venice and just spend one night there before flying to Rome and starting our cruise. 

I feel a little behind in the posting department.  A lot has happened since our last entry.  A few highlights:

While trying to whittle down the trunk of our Christmas tree with a flimsy Ikea bread knife, Tyler sliced his thumb and won a trip to the German emergency room.  We still haven’t received the bill in the mail, but the nurse, who had probably never met someone without health insurance and was completely confused by the question of how much it might cost, guessed it would be around 20 Euro.  Sheesh.  I’m moving to Europe.

Agreeing that being together and spending New Years in Paris was quite enough, we decided to not exchange gifts this year.  Between cutting out the  excessive shopping and wrapping and the darting from house to house for two or three days of Christmas, this year seemed relaxed and the focus of the holiday seemed right.  We Stevens’ spent tons of time sitting around the house, going for walks in our neighborhood, playing “Catch Phrase,” and making meals together.  We had a wonderful time and created some unforgettable memories.  However, the Mortimer-Montoure blood is still in me and the hectic Christmas’ of the future are already calling to me and I hope to never miss one again.

Paris deserves its own entry.  Maybe later today or tomorrow…

We are 90% moved out.  There’s a pile on the floor of things we’re putting in the backpacks to take on our 6-week trip and we’re waiting for the laundry to line-dry (the dryer had a very timely breakdown) before we can officially “pack.”   We have two 22.5kg (23kgs is the weight limit on United Airlines) bags and one very carefully packed carry-on full of breakables ready and waiting for our departure to the states.  As soon as our train tickets arrive (again, this topic deserves its own entry.  All I can say is don’t put too much stock in UPS), we’ll be on our way.  First stop: Munich.

We will be home in 90 days.  I know this because, starting today, we no longer need visas or SOFA cards or any of this crazy and confusing non-sense we’ve been dealing with.  We can officially “out-process” and effectively “re-enter” the EU as tourists for a 90-day stay.  I also know this because it means we’ll be HOME in 90 days and as much as I’m looking forward to the next 90 days here, I am looking forward to an egg-on-a-bagel from The Bagelry, my mom’s cooking, good kitchen knives and a walk around Green Lake.

Our friend Nancy came for a week-long visit and helped me cook my first turkey. We bought a frozen turkey on Friday night for our Saturday night Thanksgiving party for 25. (This was completely my fault, by the way.) Tyler and I spent the entire night taking turns getting up every hour to change the water in the cold-water bath the turkey had to take so it would thaw by morning. Groggy and blurry eyed, we both shuffled into the kitchen the next morning and proclaim that we are never having kids.

Our turkey, stuffing, gravy and pumpkin pie all turned out perfectly. Miriam made everything else and we all enjoyed a full, traditional American Thanksgiving Meal and leftovers (including a huge batch of turkey soup) for days. We loved having Nancy here to celebrate with us and it was fun to treat Germans to their first turkey.

Thanksgiving Day, Tyler and I went to a spa town about 2 hours away called Baden-Baden. While we really did miss family, I have to say this was hands-down the most relaxing way to spend a holiday. We didn’t lift a finger in the kitchen or wash a single dish. We spent the day in baths (hot tubs with and without bubbles, cold tubs, warm tubs, whirlpools, swimming pools, etc.), saunas, steam rooms, heated chairs and getting a massage. It’s a bit like Harrison Hotsprings on steroids. Then we went out to a very nice dinner and walked back to our hotel all bundled up, through the leaves and along the river. We had a great Thanksgiving, just the two of us.