Mumbai-bai-bai

Our first mistake was not learning our lesson from the hotel we had booked in Egypt...you get what you pay for. Drew booked a hotel online that Lonely Planet had recommended and the cost turned out to be 14 USD a night...total. But hey, it was India so maybe....

The room was about the size of a batter's box and had no AC and no windows...we are fairly certain it used to be outside and they just decided to put walls and screens up. The screens could not do much to keep bugs out, and this was malaria country. The side-screen view was a collapsed bulding and the drainage from the building's toilet system. If anything, our accomodation was at least incentive to get out and see the city.

Mumbai has a famous mosque that is only accessable at low tide because it is on an island, the Haji Ali. We were hell bent on seeing it the first day so we quickly left the hotel and caught a cab to the access bridge. What we saw when we got there was far from what we expected.
Every mosque up to that point had been pristine...The Blue Mosque, Muhammed Ali Mosque, Jumeirah Mosque...all absolutely gorgeous. The Haji Ali was run-down and dirtier than a Chinese restaurant's kitchen. Thousands of people were trekking out because it was Friday and time for prayer.

The walkway was enough of a cultural experience to last me a lifetime. People without legs, hands, arms, eyes, feet...people who, for the most part, have been purposefully deformed for the purpose of begging...and it is hard to tell them you have nothing for them knowing full well that one of the bills in your wallet could feed them for days. Some lay on the ground convulsing while others harrass you to purchase their particular trinket.

To the right was a giant trash heap rising out of the water while to the left a young girl relieves herself (#2) and walks away sans wiping (sans is french for without). We walked through trying to make as little eye-contact as possible but we were the only white people within several city blocks...so we drew a good bit of attention.

We did some research afterward and decided to stick to the more touristee things the following day. Our meal was perhaps the saving grace of the afternoon...both Drew and I loved the Indian cuisine and probably ate more in one sitting than most people in the city eat in a week. We tried to get to bed early but the intense heat and bugspray covered bedsheets didn't help matters much.

The next day we surprisingly slept in and made our way to the Gate of India around noon. This was the historic spot where the British yada yada yada...we took a few pictures and then got swindled into taking a driving tour of the city...something like 60 USD...an absolute ripoff.
Drew and I were intrigued however by the section of the city where everyone sends their laundry. There is an outdoor laundromat that handles millions of articles of clothing every week. It was extremely impressive even though the driver only brought us there so he could pick up his laundry.

The only other thing we saw on this tour worth noting was Ghandi's house for when he was working in Bombay. It has been turned into a museum dedicated to the Mohatma and is actually extremely interesting to wander around. Our driver gave us as much time as we wanted here and then drove us back to the docks where we argued about the price significantly.

Drew and I would've blown up if it weren't for the subsequent trip to the island of Elephanta...about an hour ferry from Mumbai. The island is a series of caves that were carved into Hindu temples roughly a thousand years ago. (I just made that up...have no idea what year) The rock carvings of Krishna took up about 100 pictures while the mating monkeys covered the other 20 or so. This was the interesting cultural aspect of India we had wanted to experience.

After the hour ride back and another good meal, we returned to our cell and settled down for the night. Problem was that our stomachs would not settle down. Curry is like the guy who walks into your stomach party and begins causing some serious problems. This is not what you want happening when the toilet is actually a hole in the ground.

Though I held out, Drew is a much braver soul and did the squat. Strangely enough he actually enjoyed it and currently maintains that it is nearly as enjoyable as sitting down (I have since tried it and I disagree). With most of the major sights knocked out, we spent the rest of the night wondering what we would do the following day.

For the first time in days, we found an internet cafe in the morning and ended up spending four hours there. Afterwards we got some more curry and set out to see the markets. Some of the more interesting times we had in India were watching the local kids play cricket in the street and haggling with the market guys.

Watching Drew haggle is like watching a comedy and an M. Night Shamalan movie at the same time. He haggles down the price of any item as low as he can get it and then reveals at the end that he doesnt even want it. We probably bargained for about 100 items and ended up buying two...but at least it was entertaining. It was at the market that we also recognized an odd thing about India.

Men...everywhere...the entire country is separated like a middle school dance but it appears as if the only people outside are the men. They also were very fond of taking pictures with us...not just with us but also solo shots. At times it was funny but by the end it got to be a bit disconcerting. I often felt like I was back in Mykonos but the tan was permanant and the stench was aweful.

Anyway...long story short, India was a lot of culture for us...definately unlike any other place we had visited. But, we were scheduled to be there for five days and after three we had had enough. The beauty of the round the world ticket through Star Alliance is that if you give a day's notice, you can change your flight if there is room...I'm sure you can guess what we did.

Catching the early flight to Bangkok made me feel as if my mood had taken two cycles of HGH. Despite dirty frames and aching stomachs, we could not help but look forward to a two day RNR in Thailand while we waited for our flight to Beijing. India had given us a wonderful perspective, however, and a unique look into culture vastly different from our own.

If You Build It, They Will Come

Airplane Conversation:
Sean: "I can't believe it is 100 degrees out in Dubai. This is going to be relatively uncomfortable"
Drew: "Dont't worry dude...it's dry heat...you won't feel a thing"

In reality, it was not dry heat...in fact it was wet heat...very wet heat. Drew and I were immediately covered in sweat upon leaving the airport...denim and the UAE just don't mix. We were scheduled to stay with good family friend Dan Grimm and his wife Emily (some of you will remember that Dan accompanied my older brother on his trip).

Dan had sent his Pakistani driver to pick us up so we really didn't have to spend the usual 2 hours trying to navigate the city. Mohammed (that is actually his name...im not just stereotyping) pulled up in the first SUV we had seen in months (if Euro cars were sold at a clothing store...it would most likely be baby Gap). Instead of a hybrid smart moped, Mo rolled around the corner in a Chevy Tahoe, accelerating too fast just to make sure he was burning enough gas.

I climbed in the front seat to find a folder-sized envelope with the blog name on it and instructions from Dan. At that instant, Mohammed handed me his cell phone and our host was on the other line. I kinda felt like Mission Impossible Tom Cruise (not to be confused with Oprah Winfrey Tom Cruise) as Dan told me the plan for the upcoming evening.

What he left out was what we would actually be doing...he just told us where and when to meet our guide for the upcoming festivities. Arabian Adventures? Turns out that we were booked to go on an SUV safari through the desert dunes outside Dubai. As approximately 30 Tahoes sped to our rendezvous point, somewhere an alternative energy activist shed a single tear. It was during the 45 minute ride out to the desert that we got our first real look at Dubai. Drew describes it perfectly as a real life version of Sim City. A third of the world's cranes are strewn about endless skyscrapers including the world's only seven star hotel (self-appointed) and the tallest tower ever built (over 800 meters). This is all possible because the Sheikh goes to bed at night on a water-bed full of crude oil...I digress.

After entering the desert and removing some air from our tires we took off. I have decided that our driver actually has the undisputed most fun job in the world. Weaving back and forth over dunes, Drew and I took every turn with anticipation as the Japanese tourists in the back sighed with a mixture of nerves and fear. Most other cars had one or several of their passengers getting sick but apparently our driver was not on his game. After about 30 minutes of up and down entertainment, the rollercoaster suddenly stopped. Amir (driver) decided it was amateur hour and got stuck...wedged in the sand...wheels not even touching. First time I ever had to get out and push in my life. Eventually another SUV came and tugged us out so we could catch up with the other vehicles.

Upon arriving at the desert camp we were greeted with dinner and a dance show...also a free camel ride which we passed on without much thought. We then skipped the dunes on the ride back to avoid any further complications and were dropped off at the hotel across from Dan's apartment. Drew and I met with Dan and Emily afterwards and stayed up rehashing the first half of our trip and the evening's events.

The next day we decided to get down to the base level of Dubai society...you know...mingle with the locals. Fortunately this involved going to the Mall of the Emirates and taking a few runs on the indoor ski-mountain. Ski Dubai is nothing more than a store in a shopping mall...except it is an entire ski-slope complete with chairlift, board park, black diamond, and T-bar. For 30 USD you get a quasi 80's ski suit and the skis or board of your choice.

Given the outside temperature, we figured it would be a comfortable temperature in the actual complex. In reality, it was freezing...really freezing...but it was worth it. How many times have you seen men charging the hill wearing turbans? My count is at one which is more than most people can say. We eventually got tired of skiing however as the runs literally lasted for 10 seconds (5 if you can really shred). After turning in our gear we conquered the rest of the mall and took a cab back to Jumeirah beach to find Emily waiting to take us to dinner. We met Dan at a Moroccan/Hookah restaurant and recounted the day's cultural immersion.

The next day would be a bit different as we headed to the Jumeirah mosque to participate in the "Open Understanding" discussion on Islam.Like everything else in Dubai, the mosque was newer than the iPod touch...but the dispelling of rumors about Muslims was extremely educational. Just so everyone knows, the women choose to and enjoy covering from head to toe...its a style preference apparently...hmmmmm.

The last night, Dan decided to show us how to party, Emiratee style. Since bars are only allowed in hotels in Dubai, I guess you could say we went hotel hopping. Our boy Mo drove us around as we mingled with the cream of the UAE crop. At the end of the night, we left all the pomp and 15 dollar drinks to experience the 24 hour Burger King on the way back. A taste of home was exactly what we needed.

We left extremely early the next morning...so early that our sleep tally was only at one hour when we caught the airport cab. Drew and I are fairly certain, however, that Dan slept well beyond his usual wakeup time. Dubai had been good to us...a nice sendoff before we enterred the third world...India would prove to be much different than anything else we had experienced.

"Don't Worry America, Israel Is Behind You!"

Our country wide sprint through Egypt had so many highlights and may have been one of our most exhausting stops so far. Vienna was the perfect cure for our bodies.

We walked of the plane dirty and tired, looking for an Austrian man, Peter Unterweger, someone who neither of us had ever met, but someone who knew both Bernard and Sean's parents very well. Turns out he knew them so well and they left such a lasting impression on him that he took it upon himself to put Sean and I up in a classy hotel. Peter had everything planned out for us by the minute, he was managing us like we were first year Micros dealers. We toured the whole city, seeing the opera house, the Hofburg, St Stevens cathedral, and The Summer Palace (which was less than a mile away from the Hofburg...go figure). The following day Peter was cracking the whip again, picking us up at 7 am and taking us to Saltzburg, the birth place of Mozart, and the location of one of the most notable castles in Austria.

After a second full day of sight seeing Sean and I got the opportunity to see some of Vienna by night with Isabel, Peter's granddaughter. She took us to the local hot spot, Flex. Sean and I loved the name and "flexedwalked" our way into the club, danced for a bit then called it a night.

Austria was great, Peter treated us like kings and we got to get some well needed rest before our trip into the middle east.

Israel

After our typical maneuver of staying up entirely too late and barley making our flight we arrived in Israel where Ann and Dalia met us with open arms. On this particular stop we were staying with one of Bernard's closest friends and unrelated twin, Daniel. They live in a beautiful area called Caesarea, the house was gorgeous with a pool in the backyard and a minute walk from the beach, Daniel wanted us to make sure we let Bernard know this was his heaven.

Our first full day in Israel we jumped into Toms (Daniel's son) VW Golf and made for the Dead Sea. The back seating was cramped and the driving in Israel is very similar to Egypt, no one really obeys speed limits, double lines don't mean much, and when approaching a speed bump it is crucial that you accelerate. So the drive was a bit nerve racking, but we maneuvered past the traffic of Jerusalem and made our way down to the Dead Sea.

After sneaking past what I was pretty sure was an admissions booth we made our way down to the bank of the Sea. On our way down we saw multiple signs explaining how to get into the water, what to do if you get any water in your eyes, and if swallowed immediately notify the lifeguards. This was not your typical beach.

We walked into the warm salty water and got in as instructed, butt first then lay onto your back. I was expecting to sink a bit and have to tread at least a little to stay afloat, not the case. We were bobbing around like a fat kid in a life jacket two sizes too big. You could have had an anchor attached to your back and still be floating in this overly salty water. We floated around attempting to swim, but really all you could do was drift, it was like trying to dock a Caroline Skiff. The mud made for some classy pictures as well as a free spa treatment, our bodies were smoother than a babies ass. After the spa treatments we simply floated around, hands behind our heads, nodding off, all the while in water.

Our next move was to make it down the Dead Sea to Masada where we would be able to see the sun set. Tom, aka Cole Trickle, drove like a mad man to get us there before the sun went down. After passing buses, dealing with Israeli troops, and speeding the whole way we got to Masada, only 15 minutes late for the sunset. No problem, instead of watching the sunset we ventured into the landscape that surrounds the Dead Sea, it was like Mars, made up of crater upon crater and a strange layer of chalk covering everything.

The drive back from Masada was where the real fun started. Just like in Days of Thunder our boy Cole had not hit the pits and we were running on fumes, not something you want in the middle of the Israeli desert. I could see Sean's face getting whiter and sweat starting to form on his forehead, he was certain we were running out of gas and hitching back to Caesarea. Luckily for us the good folks at VW make the 1.8L Golf one of the most fuel efficient cars on the market, we made it to a gas station safely.

That night we were back in the old Golf heading for Tel Aviv, going to one of Toms favorite spots, the Breakfast Club... what a great name. So after hyping up this place for the majority of the night he finally took us there, we strolled up to the door to find a wooden plank blocking the door. Turns out this place was so much fun and so out of control they were forced to shut it down, we thought Tom was going to cry. Lucky for us the manager from the Breakfast opened up another place just before getting shut down. We waited in line at this place with six other guys for what seemed like the better part of an hour. Tom and I said forget it and started walking away, then we heard a call from Sean, his good looks had got him past the huge Russian bouncers, he said something to some woman with an ear piece in and we were all in. It was like a scene out of a night at the Roxbury.

The next day I awoke to Daniel "Drew guest will be arriving shortly." Just by pure randomness Sean and I happened to be in Caesarea for Gabby's (Daniels mother) 75th birthday. After about three hours of sleep Sean and I found ourselves surrounded by relatives and friends with curious looks on their faces all asking the same question, "who are you again." The majority of the people at the party spoke little English, which may have been a good thing due to the hung over state our minds were in, but overall the lunch was great.

That afternoon we once again hoped into old faithful and headed north for horseback riding in the Golan Heights. Alex, Daniels cousin runs a ranch and was nice enough to take us on a ride through the mountains. If you didn't know Sean and I are regular rancheros when it comes to horseback riding, by rancheros I mean we have no clue what were doing on a horse. We mounted our glorious steeds, bike helmet and all, and started our ride through the hills. Following Sean I was forced to constantly slow my horse down, it was either Sean's fear or the horses general disregard for the trot, but we never really made it past the walk when it came to speed.

So after a long day you would figure Tom and Dalia would give us a night off to relax, no chance. That evening Sean and I found ourselves in one of our favorite nights of the trip so far. It was a little hidden treasure on the coast of Caesarea, a beach party in this small lagoon. There were about 25 people hanging out under a make shift tent with lights, music, and food, all powered by your standard generator. It is hard to say it but this spot made the Gentlemen's Club look just a bit amature, but it did remind me of being at home. The people in Israel love Americans more than Chris Hansen loves catching predators. They treated us like we had been friends for years, we danced, drank, swam, and even helped the hipppie chicks make their open fire beef stew, which I must say was some of the best late night food I'd ever eaten.

Okay so now onto the real history of Israel, Jerusalem. The first stop was the Wailing Wall, where Sean and I (wearing cardboard yamikas) felt that the only way we could have been more out of place was if our passports had the name: Mel Gibson on them. We squeezed our way up to the wall, dropped a little prey in a crack and moved on, Sean looked so nervous I thought he was going to faint. Next up was the Holy Sepulchre (the place of Jesus's crucifiction). We explored though the church, seeing the place of the crucifiction as well as Jesus's final resting place. The Dome of the Rock was last, where a lovely mosque sits above the Temple Mount. Overall Jerusalem was unbelievable, not being a very religious person it was really interesting seeing how so many different faiths intertwine throughout one small city.

On the way back from Jerusalem we stopped in at Gabby's (Daniel's mother) for her world famous schnitzel. My previous experience with schnitz was in Vienna and I loved it, Gabby showed me that the Austrian schnitz was the JV squad when it came to the stuff. She prepared a feast of pasta and chicken schnitzel for Sean and I. There was more food than a Boston Market Family Meal for six, Sean and I took it upon ourselves to eat every last little bit. It had to have been one of our top meals of the trip.

So much had happened in Israel, it had to have been one of my favorite stops of the trip, between floating in the Dead Sea to horse back riding through the Golan Heights, it was truly a memorable experience...until we tried to leave. Getting out of Israel is harder than digging a tunnel out of Shawshank. Waiting in line Sean was nervous as usual about the time situation, I said "Sean when has it ever taken us longer than an hour to get to our gate?" I was eating those words two hours later.

After a passing all the tough questions like "Why were you in Egypt? Do you have family in Egypt? Do you speak any Hebrew? What is your Faith? etc etc" it was time for the real stuff...the bag examination. Well my bag failed the bomb test, which pretty much means you are completely screwed. They got out a box, unpacked my whole bag, scanned ever article of clothing with a medal detector, took my bag to some back room, all the while our plane was boarding. After making sure every part of my bag was clear they told me to start packing, normally it takes me about 30 minutes to get my bag just right, I had five minutes. We scrambled to make the plane, but got on none the less. Bag molestation aside Israel was a stop we will never forget.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Nothing is Free and Don't Try the Salad

Dearest Blog,

It has been awhile since I last wrote to you...but that hardly means that nothing interesting has happened. The disclaimer on this blog is that Egypt is famous for a few things...the Giza Pyramids, The Red Sea, and Traveler's diarrhea. Being the experienced tourist that I am, I went for the hat-trick. Lets talk about it.

An Egyptian driver with black teeth met us at the airport upon arrival and drove us directly to our hotel. Now, I had figured that 8 dollars a night was a bit cheap but its Cairo so I didnt think much of it. However, if I had to rate our accomodation on a soda scale (The Holiday Inn being a Coca-Cola Classic)...it was more like Diet Cherry Vanilla Safeway Brand Cola. No AC in a city that was a virtual steam-room and the hardest mattresses they could find.

Upon finding out that we needed to take an escort to the cash machine around the corner...Drew and I thought it would be a great idea to not stay in Cairo for the entire visit. Our first day was by far the most stressful. We began with a tour of Sakkara and the Step Pyramid of Zoser (the first pyramid ever built). It was here we realized a very important lesson that would help with the rest of our stay in Egypt...nothing is free. I snapped a photo of one of the pyramid guards posing with his assault rifle. He then asked for money. Try turning a man with a gun down.

We next began the trek towards the Giza Pyramids with several unplanned stops. Stop 1- burning heaps of trash on the side of the road stops traffic and shows us just how well Cairo runs its waste management program. Stop 2- a dead donkey on the side of the road is the Egyptian version of a fender bender and promotes significant rubbernecking. Stop 3- (my least favorite)...our driver stops at a carpet school and asks us to look around.


Remembering lesson number one (nothing is free) we were immediately turned off by our guide handing us over to another guy. "Free of Charge...just want you to understand how carpet schools in Egypt operate." Clearly we had not been itching to find out this well-kept secret but we took the tour anyway. Turns out the secret isn't that well-kept...they use children. "Look at how happy the children are to make something so special." Frown, Frown, Frown...all I saw was frowns. Naturally, upon seeing the faces we each bought small carpets that will most likely be regifted.

Next they took us to the papyrus factory...nothing is free...Drew and I quickly got wise and prematurely told the new guide that we were a waste of time. We walked back to the car and were taken to camel stables...but this was an activity we were willing to shell out extra for. We bought the full package...camel ride to each pyramid...ticket entry to the second pyramid and to the Sphinx temple and lastly a panoramic shot of the whole landscape.

A couple important notes...camel riding is very uncomfortable (3 hours of riding and my undercarriage was uncommonly tender for a week)...and we forgot sunscreen (Drew's skin tone is similar to that of Sean Patrick Flannery in the movie Powder). Lastly, the desert housing the Sphinx and Giza Pyramids is extremely warm...and we had no water.

We rode our camels through a backdoor passage to the desert area and were immediately encountered by people offering free welcome drinks. Though we got the picture...the group of 30 Chinese tourists in front of us (sadly a separate group) had no idea. Several of them took the offering only to be harrassed for money immediately after. But, we pressed on.

Our guide took us passed this group at which point we noticed there were 30 of them but only fifteen camels. If you do the math you will discover that this means they were doubled up...One of the most amusing sights that we had the privilege of viewing to that point. We passed them with apprehension but we needed to shift our focus to the only remaining Ancient Wonder of the World that was now before us (Dont worry...they'll be back).

Riding up to the pyramids is an indescribable feeling. It is a place everyone thinks they will get to at some point in their lives but the approach is still surreal. Before I get too serious...the moment was disturbed by a strange mumbled yelping coming from behind us...and we had to turn around and catch a glimpse.

Runaway Asian Tourist. A middle-aged Chinese guy had lost control of his horse (who gets a horse at the pyramids) and he had absolutely no idea how to stop it. He was doing a mixture of yelling and laughing knowing full well how ridiculous he looked. What could we do? Neither Drew nor I were experienced camel riders so we left it up to our guide to help...we videotaped it instead.

After wrangling the Chinese rider, our guide stepped up the pace and brought us up to the Kheops Pyramid. We bought admission to actually go inside the Pharoah's tomb and the heat immediately picked up when we started the hunched over descent into the burial chamber. If you are claustrophobic...this is something you should never do. We ran into a group of teenaged Muslim girls on the way who wanted to take pictures of our "nice faces." Sadly, since they were covered from head to toe, we could not return the compliment.

Hate to spoil it but, all that is inside the burial chamber is an empty room. We then travelled down to the Sphinx which offered choice photo-ops of the whole complex. Drew and I then remounted our camels and road up to take the panoramic shot from the highest nearby dune. We then tipped our guide and headed back to the stables on the double to catch a ride back to our hotel.

Sunburned and bruised below the belt, we got ourselves ready for the Nile dinner cruise that we had booked for that night, complete with belly dancing and a musical performance. The cruise itself turned out to be relatively budget. While the views were good at points, it is probably the Japanese doing the Macarena and the c-section scarred belly-dancer we will remember most.

Our extremely hectic day was capped off by catching a midnight van ride from our hotel to Dahab, a city on the Sinai peninsula renowned for its Red Sea diving. Yes...we took a van in Egypt...and yes...it was uncomfortable. The driver started off with the phrase "Guess I can't kill you guys because I forgot my knife...which really helped the nerves. After 8 hours, we pulled into the beach town of Dahab and napped in our new hostel room (a huge step up from the one in Cairo). We awoke two hours later to meet our driver for the Blue Hole, a popular snorkel spot among European travellers to this region.

The diving was absolutely unbelievable. The Blue Hole is a a circular coral opening that drops off 80 meters though it is only 6 meters away from the shoreline. Drew and I watched as professional freedivers dissapeared underwater for 4 minutes at a time holding their breath. Though we tried to do the same we could only get down about 20 feet before I got tired and Drew lost interest. Swimming around the Red Sea however still offered us some of our more memorable moments in Egypt.

The nature of the beast on these round the world trips is that we only had two days in Dahab...so we decided to make the most of our last. We rented ATVs from the travel agency next to the hostel and took them with a guide into the mountains. I did not understand how, while drew and I were dying from heatstroke, our guide was sporting jeans and a serious smoking habit. He took us to another snorkel spot and then to a Bedouin camp to have tea. This would've been the perfect memory to leave Dahab with...but there was still the matter of getting back to Cairo.

Public buses in Islamic countries....a few images come to mind. This was our ride back. We were also in such a hurry to catch this bus that we neglected to eat or grab water before the 10 hour back and forth ride to the capital city. To add to our troubles my stomach sounded like a lawnmower trying to start. (Note to everyone: do not eat salad in Egypt...do not...eat salad...in Egypt.). But at least we were able to spread out as the bus was relatively empty.

Oh wait...a local stop 10 minutes after we left filled the remaining seats up, and to my surprise there was someone in my actual assigned seat. Upon asking the driver he switched me to another seat...until another stop later when someone jumped on and claimed it from me. At last, the one remaining seat was next to an Australian guy who had been travelling by himself through Africa. Unfortunately, his reccuring knee problems required that we switched seats and I took the window.

Time to nap...the guy in front of me reclined all the way crushing my knees while the woman behind me jammed my seat back at me when I tried to recline it. Not to mention my stomach issues were getting worse and neither Drew nor I had had water or food all day. Do not eat salad in Egypt. Completely upright with crushed knees, I watched bad Egyptian cinema as Drew slept comfortably. The bathroom stall was occupied the entire trip which did not help matters, as I was both worried about what was going on in there and needed to use the toilet desperately.

8 hours in I was still sitting completely upright and in dire need of some water and/or a flashing WC vacant sign. Neither would come...but we did pass our Sinai border bomb inspection which was about as thorough as the security at a Miley Cyrus concert. I was in no way comforted...but my nerves turned out to be unfounded. We arrived back in Cairo and caught a cab to our dream of a hotel where our shower could've used a shower. We got as clean as we could and sat down to a decent sized meal and several liters of water.

For the first time in days I slept like a baby that night given the previous days' stresses. Drew and I awoke early for our visit to the Egyptian museum which houses most of the known artifacts of the Old and New Kingdoms. The most memorable exhibit was the Royal Mummy display of approximately 20 mummies found all over Egypt. We thought Lenin's body was a creepy sight until we saw bodies...thousands of years old that still had their skin. Ramesis II (he let Moses do his thing) was by far the most impressive...three-thousand years old still sporting an impressive grill and more hair than some people I know.

After a quick stop at Saladin's Citadel and the Mohammed Ali Mosque Drew and I were ready to get out of Egypt. We had seen some of the most unbelievable sights up to that point and had had a blast doing it. The pyramids were a personal favorite despite the constant threat of runaway Asians on horseback. Dahab as well was unforgettable from the snorkelling to the mountain four-wheeling. But the two most important takeaways..."nothing is free"....and "don't eat salad in Egypt"(I've been eating Immodium like Skittles). That is all for now blog. I'll write you again when I get a chance.

Forever Yours,

-Sean

"Excusse Me Sir, Your Mustache, It's Tickling My Back"

So we are behind as usual, I appologize and hope we can contiune to entertain...keep in mind we are past the two month mark, and at this point we will only have a month of travel left. It is crazy how quickly life passes, but honestly at times it feels like it has only been a week, then you look at some of your pictures and it hits you, you have been half way around the world, for two months, and still have 30 days left, it feels amazing.

After leaving Greece and biding farwell to Lauren, which was tough after sharing such a memroable time together, we moved on to Istanbul. This was my first time in a traditionally Muslim city and I found the culture and people unbelievable. This place was very new to me and the culture was all around us, there was an atmosphere in Istanbul like no where else. The first thing that we noticed approaching our hostel was the unmistakable Blue Masque and Hagia Sophia, I will get to them later. Our hostel was on a side road off a main street, it was completley full, not a bed to spare, there was a friendly staff, and a breathtaking view from the roof deck of the Bosphorus in one direction and the Blue Masque in the other.

Our first night in Istanbul it was the weekend so we ventured into the social center of the city, Taksim Square. We walked through the streets, which were easily the most crowed ones we had seen yet, sampling a local beer here and there and then called it a night. We got back to our hostel around 3 am and were looking forward to getting some rest. Only one problem, there was some woman sleeping in my bed. The genius at the front desk checked her in that night and gave her my bed, a bit frustrating. After a few words were exchanged I ended up in a honeymoon suite.... but not alone. While Sean slept soundly in our original dorm I shared a room with some large man, shirtless and snoaring. I quitely crept past him and crawled into bed, clutching my valuables, and hoped he would not be too startled to find a young American sharing his room. The next day the sleeping arrangments were sorted out and I could move back down to the traditional 14 bed room we were staying in.

Our first full day Sean and I were served a serious helping of Istanbul history. We spent hours pondering the Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque. The Hagia Sophia was orginally a church built in 400 AD by the Byzantines, but when the Ottomans took over they changed it into a Mosque. Today it is a museum and is the only place in the world where you will see a huge mosaic of The Virgin Marry above the Mihrab of a mosque, very fasinating. The Blue Masque was the first masque we had ventured into and it took my breath away. After removing our shoes and walking in Sean and I spent the better part of an afternoon sitting on the comftable carpted floor of the masque. We watched groups of muslims prey and staryed up at the blue and white porcelin mosaicics that fill the ceiling, one of the most amazing buidlinngs of the whole trip.

That night we found another part of Turkish culture that has stuck with us throughout the trip, water pipes and backgammon. The two go hand in hand, neither takes much skill, but you can spend hours on end partaking in both. I managed to frustrate Sean in ways I never thought possible, after defeting him time and time again, in the game he claims "its just a roll off, we might as well just roll once and that decides who wins." We spent many nights on our roof deck, playing gammon, puffing on shesha, listening to the evening prey call coming out of the Blue Masque, and meeting different people. One night we met these two Dutch guys, Dirk and Jobe, who both shared an interest on backgammon and hoka smoking.

They found it fasinating that the majority of our conversations revolved around food. For those of you who dont know, one of my favorite things to do before or after eatting is going into intense detail about either what I am going to order or what I just ate, whether its George's cream of crab soup or a Mcdonalds double chee. They thought it was so funny when we would go on rants about some random food we had dabbled in that day, I now understand while Holland is not known for it's foods. Anyway let me go ahead and rant for a bit on some of the local cuisine Istanbul had to offer. The first and one of my favorite, the meat kart, you could pay $5 and get a huge pita full of your choice of lamb, chicken, beef, or meatballs, typically I would go with the balls. There was the local fish market, where we sampled the fresh fish sandwiches that were caught daily. The climax of our food experiencse in Instanbul was discovered on our final night at around 4 am when we stumbled upon the local "wet burger" stand. There were two stands located directly next to each other, one had a line out the door, the other place was empty. We waited in line and spent $3 on what we both agreed was hands down the best late nihgt food we had ever eatten. It was a honey glazed bun, with a hamburger inside, more like a meatball, with marinara, chesse, and a bit of mayo, the bun and burger simoltaiously melted in your mouth with every bite, my mouth is watering thinking about it.

On a bit of a more serious note, one of the nights we were in Istanbul there was a terroirst bombing that took place in a residential neighborhood just 30 mins from our hostel. The bombs were placed in trash cans, one was set off, then the other went off about 45 mins later after a crowed had been drawn out, 17 people were killed. It was strange, the next day everything in the city was still running like nothing had happend, everything still open, people all over, and no real sense that a bombing had just taken place the night before. I asked one of the guys working at our hostel about it and he gave us the impression that this happens all the time, and that it is nothing new to them, not really that big of a deal. It was a real wakeup call for Sean and I, the thought never crosses my mind when we are traveling, that we really are in some dangerous places.

Anyway on a lighter note, the last truely cultural experience we had while in Istanbul was when we were talked into a day at the local spa. The night before we had met a guy from the US named Hari, he was raving about this world famous Turkish Bath and we decied we would tag along. My only experince with massgaes and spa treatments consits of vactions in tropical destinations with my family, so the masseuse is typically an attractive local and the massage is noramlly long and soothing. This is not quite the case for a Turkish Bath, or Hamam, from what I had heard its a Turkish man that doesnt massage you, but rather beats you. The set up is a large marble room, tempature of a sauna, and little bathing stations surrounding a large marble platform in the middle, we were dressed in only a cloth wraped around us like towels. The three of us were sitting in the room awating our treatments when in walks a 250 lb Turkish man. He walks up next to me, delivers a heavy open palm blow to my back, grins and ask me to follow him. This man is in the same outift I am wearing, he has got a mustache on him that looks like a rat crawled onto his upper lip and died, and his body hair to skin ration is far too high, not my typical masseuse. I am a bit nervous, but go, he takes my cloth off and tells me to lay face down on the marble platform. I quickly follow his instructions and he begins to beat me like I just informed him of the affair I was having with his wife. The massage/beating goes on for about 30 mins, then he leads me over to the washing stations. Now this large Turk starts to soap me up and scrub me down like a new born baby, he exfoliate ever little nook and crannie of my body and then slaps cool water on me. He ends the treatment with a through shampooing of my entire body. He scrubs and scrubs, at one point he's got my leg over his shoulds and is dangerously too close..., all the while his body hair is accumulating soap like the peaks of the Rockies. The treatment ends, my main man wraps me in two fresh towel, shakes my hand and we part ways, we bonded in ways I never thought possible between two men. Sean, Hari, and I had some black tea in the lobby area, recovering from our Hamam, but unanimously decied we had never felt so relaxed, you'd be suprised what a large Turkish man can do to you.

Summer in Mykonos, Some Are Not

Krakow is one of the most beautiful destinations in Europe attracting thousands of tourists each year to see its unique architectural style. Unfortunately, we were in Warsaw. The most redeeming characteristic of this city was that our hostel had a common room with couches and two American DVDs. I will now (for the sake of brevity) recount the first few days of our return to the European continent in a timeline…

Day 1 :

10 :00 AM : The Tunisian guy wearing cowboy boots in the bunk beneath me screams in Arabic on the phone while smoking a cigarette…I wake up.
11 :30 AM : Drew and I find the lounge area and DVD collection.
11 :31 AM – 6 PM : Sigourney Weaver is elegant but strong in ‘Aliens 2’ while Tom Hanks captures our hearts in ‘Philadelphia.’

Day 2 :

11 :30 AM : I contract lung cancer from the Tunisian guy…still smoking in bed
12 :45 PM : Return from lunch to find that Philadelphia has started again (viewing #2)
3 :00 PM : Leave to see the one square block of Warsaw that was not destroyed in WWII
4 :23 PM : Return to find that someone is watching Aliens 2…we saddle up (viewing #2)
8 :16 PM : Someone puts in Philadelphia again (viewing #3)…we start drinking
9 :14 PM : The Tunisian guy calls Drew George Bush’s son…Someone calls him Osama’s nephew…awkward silence…Tom Hanks still moves the audience.
11 :00 PM : We officially don’t experience any nightlife in Poland

Day 3 : (This was the day Drew had been waiting for…the day we would fly to Athens to meet his girlfriend. The scene I am about to describe belongs in a Nicholas Sparks novel.)

2 :30 PM : Our flight arrives in Athens…the excitement builds
2 :31 PM : I sit down to eat food…Drew nervously checks the flight schedule
3 :00 PM : Lauren’s flight lands on the runway in Athens.
3 :00.001 PM : Drew walks up to the customs door as if by some form of magic Lauren has teleported herself directly from the plane to customs.
3 :05 PM : Drew frowns…where could she be…I assure him that it is still logistically impossible that she is off the plane.
3 :12 PM : The most adorable scene I have ever witnessed ensues. After 12 agonizing minutes…the door slides open revealing the petite American blond in all her marvel. Drew is more excited than I was the day I discovered free-refills. They embrace…Their lips move closer together…I hum Sixpence None the Richer’s classic ‘Kiss Me.’ Sadly the only two witnesses were myself and a fat Greek taxi driver who had a serious staring problem. No matter…we were in Greece…soooo romantic…and I was happy to be the official third wheel. (end timeline)

Turns out Athens is not all that romantic, but it was our plan to leave for the island of Mykonos the following day where Drew had rented a wonderful two-person beachfront cabana. The first night, we stayed with our family friends Haley and Sophia who had already been in Athens for some time. The five of us walked to the Acropolis to watch the sunset and then sat down to sample the local cuisine. We turned in early, however, so we wouldn’t miss the 7 AM island ferry.

We were about halfway to the port when I discovered the friend I was planning on staying with was actually vacationing on another island…ie…I had no place to stay on an island that was completely booked…this took part of the enjoyment out of the ferry ride. As Drew and Lauren cuddled in the hot Greccian sun, I sat next to a transvestite couple and watched the baggage. (The topic of transvestites will be revisited.)

After 6 hours of motoring, we docked at the port of Mykonos which was an experience in itself. The port city is comprised of homes only built in a blue and white color scheme. The water is the same color blue and clearer than any other place we had been. Drew and Lauren quickly found the van to their resort and I followed hoping no one would question me as to whether or not I had a reservation.

The resort was on Paradise Beach…probably the most trendy spot on the island. The only opening left was camping space next to Drew and Lauren’s cabana so I rented it for 10 euro a night. This was probably the first time in history someone has had to lie about having proper camping equipment. Nonetheless, we refused to dwell on the negative and walked down to the beach.

Not sure how I slipped through the screening process but I am almost certain I was the only guy on the beach that had both body fat and chest hair…this area was full of Europe’s most beautiful people with a white-sand blue water backdrop. If you have never been surrounded by topless women and manorrhexic guys with well oiled tans…I suggest you give it a shot.

At around 4PM…just as we were getting comfortable on the beach…every bar property on the sand started blasting techno music…loudly. This was how the nightlife began. Though a transvestite dancing on the bar platform for three hours did not get me particularly hyped, apparently the Europeans loved it.

After three hours of electronic bass, and one too many bannana hammocks, we showered and bought tickets to the local night club, where popular DJs TV Rock and Felix were playing that evening. We made it to Club Paradise at around 1 AM and would dance for nearly four hours.

It was here that we discovered Mykonos was especially popular for gay men to visit. At one point I was approached by a younger guy who said ‘I am not gay…but this is Mykonos.’ I politely responded, ‘This is Mykonos……..but I’m definitely not gay.’ He gave me the ‘no harm in asking’ look and moved on.

Drew and Lauren left about an hour before sunrise and I soon followed. I refused to triple up in their cabana because I am an absolutely wonderful friend. My accomadations…a sheet cover and a blowup raft that I had bought earlier that day. No tent…no sleeping bag…just me and the elements. Shockingly, I slept like a heavily sedated newborn infant.

I awoke to find the hot sun cooking my face and another camper staring at me. After waking up Drew and Lauren we went into the actual town for about three hours before returning to the beach. We each took turns floating around on my bed enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. Then…like clockwork…techno again…4PM…transvestites…the whole nine yards. At this point we had learned to embrace it and joined in the party.

How did my second night’s sleep go ? Well, Drew and Lauren, being the classy couple that they are, insisted that I join them in the honeymoon sweet which I did not argue with. Though waking up to Drew spooning me instead of Lauren was a bit disconcerting, the cabana provided a good night’s rest.

We paid for our sleeping arrangements and caught the shuttle to Mykonos Port. The raft came too. Drew, Lauren, and I then capped our romantic getaway with a six hour cruise back to Athens…most of which we slept. We then spent an hour wandering around the Athenian ghetto trying to find a bus stop just waiting to be stabbed by a homeless man or bitten by a stray dog…but we eventually figured it out.

After a good 6 hour rest in a budget hotel near the airport, we flew out to Istanbul. The lovers parted and it was back to just Drew and I, but we each left with wonderful memories of our time in Mykonos…techno and transvestites included.

A Little Bit of Hammer, A Whole Lot of Sickle

After an early wakeup and two flıghts, Drew and I landed at Moscow Shermetyevo Aırport. We nervously approached the new ıron curtaın...passport control, a group of ıntımıdatıng women contractually oblıgated not to smıle. I have never been more nervous handıng over my passport ın my lıfe, but surprısıngly we were gıven no trouble upon entry.

We met our drıver and hotel manager, Dmıtry (typıcal), outsıde customs who was actually extremely frıendly and spoke perfect Englısh. He spent the 30 minute drıve explaınıng the ıns and outs of Moscow...so naturally I paıd attentıon as Drew napped comfortably. We soon arrıved ın our complex and both of our jaws dropped...thıs could not be ıt. We were payıng 200 US a nıght to stay ın run-down-Communıst-block-student housıng. We would've had better luck sellıng crack ın our hotel than fındıng the concıerge.

Maybe the rooms were nıce though...before we checked ın however, we had to settle up...ın cash. Now, Russıan rubles are lıke monopoly money and ın order to hold a substantıal amount, you need about 20 ındıvıdual bılls. Payıng upfront, we had to wıthdraw the equıvalent of 1000 US and hand ıt over. I shed a sıngle tear as the hotel manager's eyes lıt up. He was however able to exchange two nıghts at the hotel for two overnıght traıns to St. Petersburg so we could get a feel for another cıty.

We brought our baggage to the room which was just as plush as the outsıde. Though our accomadatıons were straıght out of Shawshank Prıson, we decıded to make the best of ıt and see the cıty. We walked to catch a metro train ınto the cıty center where we discovered that the Russian alphabet is different from our own. Phenomenal...we could not read any of the names. Drew eventually matched up the symbols and we tentatively boarded the car.

Walkıng ınto Red Square for the fırst tıme was an absolutely wıld experıence...ıt ıs one of the largest open areas I have ever seen and ıs capped by the Natıonal Hıstory Museum and St. Basıl's Cathedral (church that looks lıke several colorful ıce-cream cones). Drew was quıckly dıssapoınted by the fact that there were no tanks ın Red Square. I took the next few minutes explaining to hım that both WWII and the Cold War had ended.

We walked parallel to the Kremlın wall and saw an ımpressıvely long lıne. Naturally we went and stood ın ıt and dıscovered ıt was to Lenın's mausoleum. We expected t see hıs coffın and maybe a statue or some candles...ınstead we entered the room to just see Lenın's actual body completely maıntaıned from the day of hıs death...just hangin out. Go-tee and everythıng he looked ready to start a revolutıon. Unprepared, we were completely creeped out. Dmıtry later cıted thıs as evıdence of the power of communısm. I dıd not have the heart to recount the events of the 20th century for hım.

After a quıck peak at Joey Stalın's fınal restıng spot, we bought tıckets to get ınto the Kremlın. Wıthın the walls are many government buıldıngs as well as famous cathedrals and an armory. After several hours wanderıng around thıs complex, we walked back to St. Basıl's and found the ınsıde to be far dıfferent from any Church we had vısıted to that poınt. After enought pıctures for a ten-day trıp, we caught the metro back and went to bed fairly early.

Our second full day, Drew and I decıded to walk to Moscow's most famous church, Chrıst our Savıour, whıch was approxımately a two-mıle trek from the Kremlın. After walkıng all the way there ın the beatıng sun, we were turned away for wearıng shorts. Thıs would have put a huge damper on the day ıf Drew had not seen the fat seven-year old Russıan boy on the way back wearıng rıdıculous sandals and a sleeveless mesh tank top. We have pıctures.

We stuck around for the changıng of the guards at theır Tomb of the Unknown Soldıer whıch was extremely ınterestıng, complete wıth hıgh leg-kıck marchıng and choreography. We next dıd a walkıng tour to see the Russıan Duma, the Pushkın Statue and the old Bolshevık Theatre. Dırectly across from the theatre ıs revolutıon square...and at ıts center, a gıant statue of Karl Marx. These people love communısm.

We found a restaurant close to our hotel wıth a relatıvely cheap tradıtıonal Russıan menu. After our meal we wıtnessed a nearby table order a bottle of vodka and drınk ıt like water. We looked at the prıces and quıckly decıded that we should do the same...and naturally we dıd not handle ıt as well as our predecesors. Fırst off, each bottle has a mechanısm that needs to be broken ın order to pour the vodka out. To save our lıves we could not fıgure thıs out.

A group of four Sıberıans sat laughıng at the two Amerıcans that could not pour out theır bottle, and fınally one came over and showed us how. They then asked us to joın theır table whıch we gladly dıd. As we desparately trıed not to make faces whıle chokıng down straıght Stolıchnaya we communıcated ın broken Englısh to our new Russıan frıends.

Our favorıte was the guy named Sasha. He was frıendly...but most ımportantly, he had a gıant rat-taıl. (Every other Russian guy has a rat-tail and looks lıke the kıd from fourth grade who no one would talk to...strange). After takıng us to see Red Square at nıght they showed us to a club called Propaganda ın the cıty center. It was here we dıscovered why we had skıpped out on the nıght lıfe thus far...the drınks were outrageously expensıve and we couldve rented a car for the cost of the cab rıde home. We were happy however to fınally have met some Russıans that dıd not ımmedıately frown upon fındıng out we were Amerıcan.

We spent the next day at the WWII memorıal where Drew was the only person over 10 playıng ın the fountaıns. We got to the traın statıon relatıvely early to fınd a place for our baggage while we trained to St. Petersburg. Luckıly none of the baggage people spoke Englısh so we were forced to wrıte down departure and return tımes and go on good faıth that our bags would not be molested ın our absence.

Drew and I then went about the busıness of fındıng our overnıght traın...dıd I mentıon no one spoke Englısh? We eventually found out that we were ın the local traın statıon...not Lenıngrad statıon. After askıng a few people on the street we found that ıt was rıght next door and our traın had just started boardıng. We got on wıthout ıssue and set our wakeup tıme wıth the attendant.

Our cabın was made up of two Amerıcans and two Russıans...one of whıch spoke a few words of Englısh and was ın the 'ımport busıness' (read: mafıa). He was dıssapoınted that we had tıckets back because he was pıckıng up a mercedes ın Fınland and wanted to pıck us up on the way back...nıce guy. He then brought up the topıc that Drew and I were ıtchıng to dıscuss, Amerıcan polıtıcs. Beıng abroad ıs nıce because I usually walk around lookıng for polıtıcal dıscussıon...and here ıt just comes to you. We fell asleep closely clutchıng ur valuables and awoke ın St. Petersburg.

We dıscovered later that we arrived at the statıon where Lenın had declared the Communıst revolutıon. We took the metro to the coast and walked to the Hermıtage Museum, the natıonal museum housed ın the Wınter Palace. Thıs was the locatıon of the Bolshevık Revolutıon where the Romanov's wınter home was stormed in 1917. The museum ıtself was the most remarkable we had been ın. It ıs an artıstıc collectıon gathered by the former royal famıly from all different corners of the world.

After spendıng a few hours getting lost in this palace, we spent entırely too much on lunch and walked to the beach by St. Peter and Paul fortress. Walkıng along the beach we heard a surprısed voıce behınd us yell 'Englısh!' Drew and I turned around to dıscover two younger Amerıcan gırls from Prınceton, in Russia with a study abroad program. We explaıned to them we were only there for the day so they decıded to show us around for our remaınıng hours. They ıntroduced us to theır favorıte cheap local cuısıne and then passed us off to one of theır guy frıends to show us a few bars and the train station.

After several pints with Ben from Scotland, he herded us to Moscova station and made sure we knew the proper platform. We boarded the train to find our roomates this go around were not nearly as ideal. We walked to our cabin to find a sleeping Russian couple in their 60s...the man...shirtless with his arms behind his head. Walking into the cart was like getting punched in the face by a man holding a dirty gym sock. Body odor rises and we were on the top bunks. We made it back safe but the sleep was less than quality.

We gathered our bags to find that they had surprisingly not been touched (or they at least didn't want any of our clothing). This was a shock to Drew and I and we left Russia on a positive note. St. Petersburg was beautiful and Moscow a bit scary, but overall it was the experience of a lifetime. The passport control agents still frowned as we left but we knew they were just playing hard to get. We flew out to Warsaw Poland and were glad to get back to Eastern Europe...a phrase I never thought I would say.

We are a bit behind because internet is harder to find than Bobby Fisher over hear. Greece and Istanbul blogs soon to come. For those of you who contacted us...the bombing in Istanbul was not close to us, but we appreciate the concern.

Czech Yourself, Before You Wrzech Yourself

Ready to get out of the unofficially most expensive city in the world, Sean and I jumped on the train for Prague. I quickly passed out on the train as I normally do and was awoken by Sean with a nervous look on his face notifying me that we had to get off the train. Unsure of what was going on we both departed the train to find our train not at a station, but in the belly of a massive ferry surrounded by cars, trucks, and containers. We both had no idea what was going on... Turns out the good people at Eurorail realized it was quicker to go by ferry than train, so they built tracks onto the ferry, it was better than that amphibious car with a 60 hrs power outboard attached to the back.

After 14 hours on everything but a plane we arrived in Prague. Our hostel was the cheapest one we could find, $12 a night, and it was worth every penny. The walls that divided the rooms were the ones that make one large high school class room into four, the beds were mattresses on the ground, and as for the bathroom, Sean and I both agreed that we would rather shower in our old college hair, urine, and sometimes glass filled bathrooms than this one. I woke up one of the mornings to find Sean scratching his face, legs, arms, and back. His body was covered in little bites, he was itching like a stray dog after a run in with a parasite infested trash barrel, we were both pretty sure he had fleas. All of the negatives about the hostel aside the people staying in the hostel are what make it and this place was no different.

Our first night in Prague we set out with two young German guys that we met in our hostel, Milan and Marvin. The two of them had been in the city for a few days and took us through the main square, which was an amazing sight to see at night. They led us to the local hot spot, Chateau, which had cheap beers, foosball, and a solid dance floor located in the basement, a perfect spot for Sean and I.

This bar was also the home to best foosball player we had ever seen in our lives. Sean and I are both experienced foosball players, we have had rich men put their $10,000 Rolex watches on the table, as well as their dignity, and we have come out on top. Tonight we were facing a duo that had already dominated half the bar, we gripped the handles and knew that we would take this tag team as we had done with many in the past. We had a quick wake up call, Europeans are dominate on the table, not only were they better, but the big gun for this team was a girl, and did I happen to mention the best looking girl at the bar, she was the editor and chief of Foosnews Magazine. After several minutes of deliberation I managed to calm Sean down and convince him we had been defeated, and we needed to focus on the positive...a new city and plenty of fun.

We spent the rest of the night tagging along with the Germans who managed to make friends everywhere they went. One had a thing for an attractive girl from Newcastle, England and somehow we ended up at her luxury apartment located in the heart of the city. It turned out the the girl and her sister from Newcastle were completely infatuated with America, the first time we found people that loved America. At one point in the night one of the girls was walking through one of the main streets in Prague chanting, "AMERICA! AMERICA! AMERICA!" We quickly stopped her shouting and informed her that the majority of Europe did not share her passion for the US. We taught our new found USA groupies some American slang and then made our way back to our hostel.

The next day we attacked the sights of Prague as we did in every other city. Prague is a beautiful city with something for everyone. In the main city square there is a world famous astronomic clock that is basically impossible to read, but is a very popular sight. Apparently the guy that designed the clock was going to put one in another city, but the people of Prague thought it was so authentic they forbid him from doing it. Now instead of paying him not to do it, or telling him he couldn't do it, they did the next most logical thing... they burned his eyes out...don't mess with the Czechs and their clocks. The Charles Bridge was very very old and interesting, we ventured up to the main palace and huge cathedral, both had amazing views of the city.

The next day brought some familiar faces back into our lives, BJ and Chuck, who would be in Prague for a few days. That night we got to experience something that I suggest to anyone, a live Wu Tang Clan performance in the Czech Republic. I have been a long time fan of the Wu but have never had the opportunity to see them live, so I insisted that we buy tickets. We arrived to the show and quickly realized this would not be like a rap concert in the US. The crowed was made up of a sea of Malibu's Most Wanted...all white, in any American sports jersey they could find, a few sets of fake corn rows, and even a some imitation gold chains. It had mocumentry written all over it, we are already working on the script. Wu Tang crushed the stage all night long, we ended up three rows from the front and had an absolute blast, it was everything I had imagined and more.

Our last day in Prague Sean and I sampled some of the local food. We had a healthy serving of pork and potatoes with gravy covering every inch of the dish, it was very tasty. That night the fantastic four of Sean, Chuck, Bj, and I took up one of the local "bar crawls." Apparently in Prague this is something that you have to do, there must have been 8 different "crawls" to go on, and each one with a different promoter tying to get you to attend. One in particular gave us one of the best sales pitches we had ever heard in our lives. He started off very friendly in a thick accent with...."you want to F'ing crawl tonight." We have been saying it ever since, and were pretty sure its the best way to get someones attention.

The next day the four of us left Prague for Munich. The first stop in Munich was the legendary Hofbrau House beer hall. We were not really sure what we were getting ourselves into, all we knew was that Sean's grandfather had been there many many years ago and said it was a must see. We walked into the place and discovered heaven...it was well over a thousand people drinking beers in huge liter sized glasses, the waitresses were all in authentic German garb, a German poka band was playing, and everyone there was looking to get loose. We each put down three of these behemoths and soon found ourselves in a cab to the main nightlife spot in Munich. The place was like an amusement park for adults, there must have been 20 bars and clubs in this one area. Unfortunately for us we were all in flip flops and tee shirts, which apparently does not meet most German night club dress codes. We attempted to go into one place, but we were quickly turned away solely due to the fact that we were Americans, but oh well I'll take a little discrimination now and then.

The next day Sean and I parted ways with our second half, BJ and Chuck, and headed for Frankfurt to meet my mom. We got into Frankfurt and immediately ran into Christine. She was so happy to see us, and we were so happy to not only see her, but to have a free clean place to stay. We went out to a delicious dinner together and shared some stories about our travels. The night ended with one more little taste of home. My mom brought us a fresh pack of Double Stuffed Oreos with cold 1% milk on the side, both of which are quite possibly my favorite things in the world. It was a perfect way to bid farewell to not only my mom, but to our month in Europe. Next on the list of places...Moscow, we will be updating shortly.

So Many Stops, So Little Time

Drew and I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for not keeping up with the blog as frequently as we should. Obviously we have not spent the last two weeks just in Spain...so I am going to give a slightly abridged version of the past few stops to bring everyone up to speed.

It was difficult to leave San Sebastian knowing that we would spend the next two days on the move. We caught a day train to Madrid to meet up with my friend Mark Ayala who could not have been a better host. Having listened to Drew butcher the language for the better part of a week, it was nice to be following someone who knew Spanish. More importantly, his place provided us with a TV and some much needed couch time. Rather than check out Madrid´s legendary nightlife, we decided to indulge ourselves in the favorite American pastime of sitting around while drinking and talking about sports (Read: Mark and Drew talked about sports).

The next day we woke up early in attempts to see everything Madrid had to offer in a span of only 6 hours. In order to make our night train to Paris we would have to pick and choose the important sights...but not on an empty stomach. Now, Spain is well known for its tapas...but its true hidden gem is the two-person meal bucket at KFC. Being the cultured travelers we are, we chose the later in the interest of time and money. If we didn´t feel American enough already, as soon as we each took a mouthful of extra-crispy, Bruce Springstein´s "Born in the USA" came on over the radio. Watching multiple Spanish men mouth the words made it all the more enjoyable.

Now to business. We toured the Palacio Real and its Cathedral which were both spectacular and unlike any buildings we had yet seen. We next moved to the Palacio de Communicados (spelling?) and the adjoining park which boasted several fountains and approximately 15 kodak moments if you are with a spouse. Drew and I just made faces in front of the nude sculptures. We also took enough pictures to convince anyone that we were in Madrid for 7 days instead of 1. And though we wished we could´ve stayed longer, we could not help but look with great anticipation toward meeting up with Bernard and the boys in France the following day.

The overnight train provided a relatively comfortable sleep on the way to Paris. We met a Columbian student travelling by himself, who caused a tremendous uproar with the rail staff when they caught him sleeping up in the baggage overhead. Other than that we slept swimmingly and rolled into the French capital quite early. After locking our bags at the train station, we set out to do in Paris what we had attempted to do in Madrid, check off all the notables...and take plenty of pictures. We started by having breakast next to Notre Dame which apparently adds heavily to the price. We then went to the Louvre to see da Vinci´s Mona Letdown as the horizon in a sea of Asian tourists. Continuing our walking tour, we climbed the Eiffel Tower and then walked to the Champs Elysées to see the Arc de Triomphe. Strangely enough, in this brief amount of time, we ran into: the Columbian from the train, Janic Noah (French Singer/Joakim Noah´s dad), and the two Australian girls we had stayed with in Nice.

Sadly we could not spend more time in the city because we had to meet Bernard at Orly Airport, who was flying in from his trans-Atlantic sailing trip. At Orly, Drew and I were each given a 25 Euro fine for not buying the proper transfer ticket. We tried to argue but the officer, a short man with tightly slicked-back hair (difficult fine to stomach), took his job entirely too seriously. We gave out the only money left in our wallets and jumped on the tram to the main terminal. Waiting patiently on the ground in baggage claim, I was suddenly kicked by a bearded frenchman hovering over me. It had been a long time since I had been kicked by a bearded frenchman so I was quite startled. Looking closer I realized it was Bernard who typically always looks as if he has just shaven. We greeted him and walked quickly toward the rental-car kiosk.

We drove back into the city and had dinner at L´Entrecote, a restaurant famous because it has no menu and only serves steak and fries with a special sauce. After recounting the first leg of our trip to Bernard and filling up on some decent food for a change, we started the four hour drive to his father´s house in Brittany. Bearded Bernard apparently drives like a maniac because we got there in 2 and a half hours and quickly went to bed. We awoke the next day to join Pierre and Heidi (Bernard´s Dad and Stepmother) and their German family friends. Since we only had one day in Brittany, we decided to have a traditional coastal French meal at a crepe and seafood restaurant. Though the food was excellent, it seemed to have an adverse effect on many stomachs at the table. About halfway through dessert, we noticed that Drew had been missing from the table for about a half hour. Naturally, Alex strolled to the bathroom to see if he was having technical difficulties. He returned quickly and announced to the table that he could not be sure if it was Drew, but there was an American man groaning loudly in the bathroom, as a line was forming out the door.

The group finished, paid the bill, and then waited at the car for Drew to make his glorious return. Looking quite pale and worn out, he squeezed into the car for the ride to a local Casino. First, we took a pit stop in a town called La Croisic where the seafood (and Karma for always passing himself off as Canadian) finally caught up to Alex. He ran into the first restaurant he saw which also happened to be the nicest. There are two things you don´t do in Europe, one is shower, and the other is go into a bathroom at a restaurant where you are not a customer. Nevertheless, he reportedly unloaded on this bathroom just as Drew had done earlier. Unfortunately for him, and whoever the new employee was, he only discovered post-wipe that this toilet would not flush. He was escorted out by the female owner and slowly walked over to the group, as we all laughed hysterically. Laughter quickly turned to fear after the restaurant staff discovered what Alex had done. A large chef came out the door weilding a dough roller which was our cue to begin running. Bernard did not run however...he simply walked over to the car, got in, and drove over to pick us up about 100 yards down the road.

We made it to the casino and all sat down at a blackjack table. Usually this story ends with all of us losing money, but, fortunately for us, it must have been amature dealer night. The poor girl dealing us cards could hardly count or shuffle and in total we each made away with 50€. Despite the metro fine, Drew and I were still able to leave with a leg up on France. We bid farewell to the group the next morning and caught a train to Brussels. From then on out, it would just be Drew and I.

We arrived in Belgium and for the first time had to take a cab because we could not find our hostel. The Germans had told us that all there was to do in Belgium was eat and drink. So, Drew and I decided to take it for what it was and do just that. After a traditional meal of mussels and fries in the city center, we wandered over the the city´s most famous bar, Delerium Café. This bar holds the Guiness record for most beers commercially served with nearly 2800 different types from all over the world. Fortunately for us, they were also pretty cheap and all over 6% alcohol volume. We eventually found our way to the strongest Belgian beer, Bush Ale which had a shocking 12% alcohol volume. Drew and I each had three and were both drunker than a 94-pound high-school female after prom.

We stumbled back to our hostel and passed out at 6 only to be awoken by our new roomate around 8. Taylor, a Canadian guy our age that had been travelling for the better part of a year, quickly befriended us and invited us to go watch the Eurocup Final with him and this Scottish guy he had met earlier in the day. I don´t know what it is about Scottish guys, but the one we later met up with was absolutely insane. We walked into a giant sea of Spanish supporters as he screamed Deutschland, after which he proceeded to rip off his shirt and climb a nearby streetlight for a better view. After watching the most anticlimatic final match in the history of the Eurocup, he somehow stole Drew´s shirt and left. Drew then took my shirt to try and go buy another shirt. In typical Drew fashion however, he came back 45 minutes later, still wearing my shirt, having been at a bar the whole time. "I got sidetracked."

We all woke up the next day with healthy hangovers and set out to see the city. Brussels is famous for having a statue of a kid peeing and having a church with a urinal on its side. Both were the most anticlimatic sights we had ever seen...So, Drew, Taylor, and I just decided to grab a quick Belgian waffle and head back to Delerium. While there we ran into Drew´s next door neighbor from school and her boyfriend who happened to be from Annapolis. We talked to them for a bit and continued drinking the strong beer...same outcome. We all went back to the hostel and passed out hoping to wake up for the late night scene. We all awoke just in time for checkout the next morning.

It was clearly time for a change of scenery. Drew and I had planned on going to Brugge for the day...so Taylor decided that he would just tag along. We all took a short train to this medieval town and quickly found a hostel. After putting our bags away, we took a must-see tourist map and started walking. This is supposedly the town where French fries were invented so we had no problem sampling the local cuisine. Afterward we spent multiple hours wandering through the cities many side roads and canals, looking at castle after castle. Brugge was the most interesting looking city we had been to up to that point. Unfotunately, this city is also primarily famous for its romantic spots...and now we were not just two guys, we were three. We left the following morning for Amsterdam and bid farewell to Taylor. We actually just said bye but bid farewell sounds better in writing.

Amsterdam......................was fun.

We left for Copenhagen four days later on an overnight train and arrived on a Sunday morning. We spent the day walking around the city, stopping at the royal palace, the royal observatory, the Tivoli amusement park, and the main shopping strip. We returned to our room to find that our roomates were four beautiful Swedish girls in a room for 6 people. They invited us to go to a jazz club with them, whic we gladly agreed to. Now, if you like jazz, you are lying to yourself...but we had nothing better to do. To make matters worse, we later found out that all these Swedish girls wanted to do was hate on America. Try listening to jazz while people with strange accents bash your country two days after the 4th...its lamer than a Chinese Symbol ankle tattoo. We quickly got wise and left these women to terrorize other men.

The next day we luckily found an opening to stay for another night, which gave us renewed energy to see Copenhagen. One thing about both Amsterdam and Copenhagen that we were astonished by was the amount of people on bikes. So, we took a page out of our Nice book and rented some. These bikes were nothing like your 5th grade Huffy...we´re talking basket up front multiple gears, handle and pedal brakes. We first rode to the Carlsberg Brewery which was about 5 miles outside of town. After talking to the recptionist for a bit, we were given free entry to the brewery tour and received two free beers at the end. The brewery tour was like any other but the free beers at the end were delightful. Drew and I then cycled back to the center square where we paid entirley too much for a small meal. This did not stop us from continuing our unofficial bike tour for another couple of hours. After returning our hogs to the rental place, we attempted to go out but the Monday night club scene was just not happening, especially with the outrageous cover charges at every place. Instead, we walked back to our hostel and fell asleep, anxious for the long trek to Prague the following day.

That is the Cliff´s Notes for the past two weeks...Prague blog soon to follow.

"I Got Here Nine Weeks Ago and Just Never Left"

After a long night of glowsticks, heavy bass and solid dance moves Sean and I had one last day in Barcelona. We were forced out of our hostel at 10 am with spliting headaches and little to no money in our pockets. We ventured into the city square looking for the Picasso Museum and realized that once again we had no clue where we were. Running on only a few hours of sleep and a half bottle of water we decide we needed to rest and regroup. So we made our first attempt of the trip to find a place in public to "rest." We found some shade in a small little park and with all of our lugage on hand and we made ourselves some "beds." Now im not sure what the official bylaws are when it comes to being homeless but im pretty sure Sean and I were doing a pretty decent job at it. With backpacks as pillows and jackets as blankets we slept for a few hours and woke up refreshed and ready for our train to San Sebastian.

Now Sean and I both knew very little about this particualr stop, all we knew was that is was on the northwest coast of Spain and that apparently the surfing was pretty good. The only reason we were even going was beacuse a friend of mine, Alexis, had raved about how great of a place it was. We arrived at the train station and realized that this town may be the smallest of all the place we had been. There was no metro system, only 20 people at the train station, and very few big buildings. We quickly found our hostel, Olgas Place, which as the name says is owned and run by a Russian woman named Olga. She was blond, tall, and looked as if she had just finished a tall glass of Russian vodka. She showed us our room speaking in broken English with a think Russian accent and we were both immediatly huge fans of her.

Typically our hostels have been down a dark alley and have rooms with no windows, or sometimes if your lucky a view of a brick building. Not at Olgas Place, we did not just have windows we had a huge outdoor deck conected to our room. I opened the door to our deck to see a huge beach no more then a block from us and about 50 people in the water surfing. Now Sean is your typical surfing hater, he didnt want to try because there were too many people in the water and because the water was too cold, he had an endless supply of excuess. So I was forced to leave him at the hostel and go searching for a place to rent a board. I quickly found a nice little surf shop and grabed a board. I got to spend the rest of the day catching waves, chatting with people in the water, and getting some good sun. The water was pretty warm and the waves were only about waist high, but they were breaking nicley. The beach was a little cove with big cliffs of rock on one end and an inlet on the other. The majority of the people in the water were local and you could tell, they all spoke spanish and could absolutly rip on these small little waves. It was so strange surfing in a foreign contry, surrounded by people speaking a differet language, but all having such a great time out in the water, it was really special. I spent the better part of 5 hours having a blast in the water and could have stayed till sun down but wanted to see what Sean was up to.

After my full day of surfing I came back to our hostel to find Sean ready to go searching for some dinner. We asked the guy working the front counter of our hostel for a good and cheap place to eat, without hesitation he told us to go get the pallela from a little place called San Fransico. We got to the resturant and it seemed a bit more like a locals bar then a resturant seeing as there was no one eatting and only three people in the place. We were greated by the owner, he sat us down at a table outside, gave us no menu and two empty glasses. Sean and I were both a bit puzzeled, but we sat patiently wondering what was going on. The guy comes back with a full pitcher of beer and asks if we want pallela. We both nod and he runs off. We sat drinking our beers expecting the owner to come back out in 30 seconds with a plate of some old pallea that had been sitting around all day waiting to either be served or thrown out. But then 20 minutes go by and we start smelling something delicious coming out of the bar. The owner comes out with two empty plates and a fresh skilit of the most amazing spread of seafood and rice I had ever seen. Sean and I both immediately took turns serving oursleves the biggest plates of pallela we could imagine. The towering plates of rice, musscels, clams, conch, calamari, fish, and shrimp were quickly devowered. We were both in a sever food coma when the owner comes out with another fresh pithcer of beer, one that I am positive neither one of us ordered. We finished the other pitcher and were just looking to get our check, but at this resturant the customer has no say, its up to the owner when you can leave. This was no joke we went to ask for it and he told us he would let us leave when he was ready to lets us go. It has now been close to two hours and we were ready to get back to our hostel, but of course the meal is not over yet. This guy comes out now with a big bottle of some green stuff and three shot glasses. He serves the two of a shot and pours himself one. Sean and I take down the sweet liquor with the onwer like champs and we talk with him for a bit about how unbelievable the food was. At this point I am wondering if we will ever get out of this place, but the owner finally tells us it is time to pay. We were expeting the bill to be a serious dent to our budgets but the owner must have liked us because the total was only 30 euros. It has to be my personal favorite meal of the trip so far.

We got bak to our hostel equiped with a six pack of 9% beers and another bottle of 1 euro white wine. Olgas place was already rocking when we got back, there must have been 20 kids from all over drinking on the front porch and in the comon room. We walked in and were quickly thrown into some drinking game that I am pretty sure was created that night. It was a mixture of Australians, Canadians, South Africans, and Americans, all looking to have a great time. One of the Americans in partiualr was looking to have a good night and was making sure everyone knew about it. He was the quintessential highschool hero. After every drink he would finish he would scream something along hte lines of, thats number 5 for me or something like Im getting so wasted tonight. Sean and I had to hold our breath to prevent from uncontrolable laughter, the kid was kiling us.

The next character from San Sebastian could be one of our favorite people from the whole trip. As we are all drinking and sharing stories in the common room in comes a big dark Australian guy named Terik. Terik was the same guy that recomended San Fransico and the pallela to us so we knew that he was legit. We got to talking with him and he said that he would be off desk duty in 20 minutes and he would shows us the good spots to go out. Just as he promised right at 11 he was ready to show us a good time. Now all 20 slightly inebriated tourist from all over the world are following our main man Terki. He leads us to a great little bar with good music and the best drink specials weve had since we got to Europe. For one euro we were getting massive glasses of san gria or beer. Sean and I opted for the san gria and were throwing them back like water. We got to talking to Terki and he was telling us about how he eneded up in San Sebastian. We have learned over the trip that no one in the world travels like the Aussies do and Terki was no diferent. He came to San Sebastian three months ago to do some surfing with his friends. Apparently he missed his train that his friends got on and instead of buying a new ticket or changing his reservation he decied that he liked the place so why not just stay. So now three months later he is working the front desk of a hostel that he lives in, surfing when the waves are good, and of course being a party liaison for the tourists, what a life.

After a few too many san grias Sean and I found ourselves on the dance floor throwing down moves like we were auditioning for the next You Got Served movie. Everything we had we were putting down, and I would like to think that we were the best dancers there. By we I mean Sean, he was starting dance offs with anyone that would take him on and everyone was loving it. The night ended with me searching out some late night food, only to find that nothing was open so I was forced to purchase some chips from a vending machine. I thought they were just your typical Lays potato chips, not in Europe. I opened the bag and stuffed some chips in my mouth and quickly learned that these were not plain chips, they were Ham flavored. It was one of the strangest things I have had so far on the trip, litterally it feels like a regular potato chip, but them bam you have got four slices of deli style ham in your mouth. Sean tried one and immeditaly spit them all over our porch, I guess our taste buds just couldnt hanlde the ham.

I woke up the next morining feeling a little rough due to the san grias but it was nothing a little morning surf couldnt fix. So I went down the block and got a couple more hours of surfing in before we had to check out of our hostel. Olga was sad to see us leave so soon, she gave us some authentic Olgas Place t shirts and told us to come back next year. We did not want to leave our little paradise, but we had to go, in two days we would be meeting Bernard in his real hometown, Paris.

Growing Up Gaudi

After a late night in Nice with Chuck and BJ, Sean and I opted to stay up till 6 am to catch the morning train to Barcelona. Prior to our trip I was in contact with my cousion, Caitlin, who had spent a simester in Barcelona last year. She gave Sean and I a detailed desciption of everything we needed to see in Barcelona. For the majority of our stops we had gotten advice from people on places to see, but Caitlin took it to another level. She gave us a complete lonely planet worthy 10 page essay on the ins and outs of Barcelona, so we were expecting alot out from the city.

We got into Barcelona around 11 at night and checked into our hostel. While waiting to go out and see the city we got the oppotruntiy to watch our Turks spoil yet another certain victory in the Eurocup. They were down 1-0 to Croatia with a minute to go in the match and with a second left one of their strikers put a shot right in the top corner. Sean and I were jumping up and down, screaming TURK-E-A TURK-E-A. After our celebration we looked around to see stares from all the guest staying at our hostel, a little akward for a first impression. We told them our Turkey futbol story and then left to see the Barcelona night life.

Now the main drag in Barcelona is called La Rambla. Its a pretty unique places, there is a mixture of nice resturants, night clubs, bars, and shops. Oh and did I happen to mention the plethora of prostitutes and shady drug dealers. Being from Annapolis Md Sean and I are not all that familar with how to deal with these kinds of things. Litteraly ever ten steps there was a different guy coming up to us, all with the same line, "cervezia, marijuana, hashi, cocaine." This went on for a solid hour untill we finally decided we had had enough, we bought a six pack of beers and continued or walk through Barcelona. Drinking in the streets is a new thing for the both of us and I have to say it makes seeing a city a bit more entertaining. We finished our drinks and then called it a night.

Earlier in the trip we had talked about possibly going to Ibiza for a few days. Well the next morning we dedicaded some time to try and make this a realtiy. With the ferry right next to our hostel we thought it would be as easy as simply walking over, paying for a ferry ticket and then catching an overnight ferry the next day. We got up to the counter and quickly realized that our dreams of dancing with glow sticks to techno till 9 in the morning may not be an option. It turns out that most ferry companies do not run ferries to Ibiza on Sundays. We tried every ferry company in the area, checked out plane tickets online, and even thought we could ask some local Spaniard fishermen to motor us over on their morning fish. So now 3 hours later we had accepted deffeat and slowly began our tour through Barcelona.

Armed with our detailed outline of what to see, thanks to Caitlin, we headed for Sagrada Familia. Sean and I had both have been to cathedrals in the past, but this one was like nothing either of us had ever seen. The building of the cathedral started in 1882 and still continues to this day. The main arechtect was a man named Antoni Gaudi. Gaudi saw designing and building in a very different way then anyone prior to him. His idea was to have a cathedral that would be passed down from genertaion to generation, with each group contributing to their own part of the cathedral. At first we were puzzeled by this because when you look at the structer half of it looks over a 100 years old and the another part looks like its brand new. Either way, still to this day the builders are following the designs left by Gaudi and it is currently under construction. We paied the 2 euro to go the the top of the cathedral to get a better view of the city. The views were great, as well as the view of the cathedral. There are large colorful porcilan scupltures at the top of each tower and unbelievable stain glass windows everywhere. The journey down was also pretty interesting. From what I understand the hallways and stair cases are not designed for a burrly man like Sean. Walking through these cramped hallways and terrifingly steep spyrail stair cases really got our hearts racing. We were shaking and had sweaty palms when we finally got to the bottom. The cathedral was amazing, it was visually stunning as well as fun to venture to the top. We both agreed that we would hope to come back when the cathedral is done in its interty.

The next stop for us was the Parc Guell, yet another Gaudi original. Gaudi was litteraly the one designer and archetect behind most of Barcelona, everywhere you look you see things that resemble his unique style. He is one of the only reason why Barcelona is such a visually amazing palce, it is the only city of its kind that I can think of. We walked through the park and saw some more interesting designs of Gaudi. In the center point of the park there is a series of benches, all of which have porcelin designs on them. Each one hand made by none other than Gaudi. Underneither this center area there is a massive room full of coloums and a ceiling that is all blue procilin. It was like nothing I had ever seen.

After a full day of sight seeing Sean and I finished off our day with a dip at the beach. The beaches in Barcelona were a mix between the jean shorts and blowouts of WildWood NJ and the boardwalk in OC Maryland. Once again there were vendors everywhere walking around trying to sell just about anything. We got ourselves a few beers and relaxed in the fading hours of the day.

After a full day in Barcelona we had one thing on our minds, enjoying the legendary night life of Barcelona. We walked the main drag again and asked a few club promoters what a good place for two young Americans would be. Everyone we spoke to had the same response, "honestly I would not come to our place tonight because everyone is going to be at Sonar." We quickly asked around and found out that Sonar is not just another club, it is a music festival that happens ever year in Barcelona and has been going on for the past 15 years. We just so happened to be there the weekend of it. We did some quick research and found out that it was a techno dj festival that close to 60000 people travel into the city to come see, a mecca for techno fans. Knowning not a single dj or band that was playing we decided that it was yet another opportunity to get a real taste of European culture.

The Nice Job

First off I would like to let everyone know that blogging is not the easiest thing in the world. Not only do we have the terrible burden of travelling through multiple countries every week; but then we are expected to write about it. This life is anything but easy, so for those of you who have commented on Drew's grammar, I would like you to take a step back and realize that writing about once in a lifetime experiences is far from a simple task. Sometimes it is raw...ipso facto, so is the grammar.

...................We arrived in Nice, France on a train from Milano Centrale relatively late in the afternoon. Alex and Garrett left the hostel finding up to Drew and I, since they had decided to leave early to Paris to meet up with Alex's friend from school (apparently they prefer champagne to one Euro screw-capped Chilean red, our bottle of choice). We found the hostel quite easily after being lost for only 45 minutes. The man who worked the front desk immediately turned off by the fact we were American, and one of us had a serious volume control issue (not naming names). Since Alex was not there to sell us as Canadians, we were forced to deal with this man's freedom-envy.

Either way, we settled in and waited for the boys so we could hit the beach. Unfortunately the beach in Nice is not the type of beach you hit...but rather the type of beach you nearly break your ankles on. It is made up of rocks the size of a softball and is extremely uncomfortable to walk or sleep on. Seeing as how I came to Europe to lay out, my plans were quickly foiled and we needed another source of entertainment. Now what to Garrett and Drew do in this type of situation? What else can you do...rock stacking competition.

We got about all we could've out of this setting and returned to our hostel. The man at the front desk had since warmed up to us and gave us suggestions on where to eat and where to go out. At this point we met our roomates...two Australian girls straight out of high school. While Alex and Garrett brightened up a bit, Drew and I checked our facial hair in the mirror while flex-walking (this is a combination of walking and flexing at the same time). We were actually quite uninterested in our new roomates and more interested in finding food. Garrett asked where we could find "a fat steak and fries." The answer, "We are both vegetarians" was not what we were looking for.

We bid farewell to our new friends and found that steak and fries. It tasted so much better knowing that the cost alone would not allow us to eat the next day. We then made our way to the most touristee bar we could find...Wayne's World. The best part about this place was the 10 dollar beers, closely followed by the tables full of scowling Europeans. I have to say that we Americans were a hit in Nice. After spending all our money for not even enough beer to intoxicate a small child, we trotted back so the boys could catch the early train to Paris.

We awoke the next day on a mission. With the boys gone, Drew and I had some business to take care of...Mo-ped business. Now, if you drive a moped in the US, you park it in between your retainer case and Clay Aiken CDs. But in France, riding a moped is a status symbol...status that we desparately desired. We each rented a scooter from a place across from the train station on recommendation from our friends at the death jump in Interlaken. For the record...we also chose the most ridiculous helmets we could find just to fit in.

We rode along the coastal rode to Monaco which took about an hour. I have to say it was the most fun I have ever had doing something that I was nervous to tell other people about. The Meditteranean views (rapidly approaching corny) were some of the most beautiful I have ever seen. The best part was that, since a moped is always travelling just slow enough to create traffic, everyone else got to share these views with us. Nothing but the sound of the sea and then several car horns and a handful of middle-fingers.

We arrived in Monaco to find that the beach was much nicer than the one in Nice...rather than large rocks or sand, it was composed of small pebbles and the ubiquitous topless European supermodel. This did not interest Drew and I however...all we could do was stare into the sunset.

We sped back to the hostel extremely satisfied. Drew and I then found a supermarket with a special on 26 cent Belgian beer which we naturally took full advantage of. Then, sitting in our room...window open...I heard my name being yelled from outside. I looked out to find my good friend Chuck Flynn, a man entirely too tall and loud to be from anywhere but the American Midwest. I had told him our Nice dates and the hostel name, and he had taken care of the rest.

We had what closely resembled a high school party in our hostel room...replacing natty light with Derheinzenbeerin label and your parents with the hostel manager. He and his travelling partner BJ regailed us with there travel stories while we returned the favor. All that was left to do was to recommend the mopeds and show them the way to Wayne's World. So, what did Drew and I do to finish up Nice, France...hang out with our American buddies in a bar. This trip is all about trying new things.