102 Days In Europe

We have spent the last 3.5 months traveling through the Netherlands, Belgium, England, Ireland, Scotland, Spain, Italy, France, Slovenia, Croatia, and Montenegro. Whew!

ON EUROPE…

 

We have experienced amazing things. The biggest of cities and the smallest of villages. Ancient ruins and modern public art. Great food and drink. Wooden clogs and flamenco heels. Tulips and lavender. Cold and hot. Royal palaces and former war zones. Nature’s wonders. Planes, buses, cars, gondolas, boats, chairlifts, trains, trams and trolleys.

It really is amazing to see firsthand how many different cultures are packed together in such a small area. Basic things like food, dress, language, customs, and personalities change drastically just by crossing an imaginary line. Sometimes – like in Italy – they’re even more drastic within the imaginary lines.

As we progressed through Europe from England to Spain and Italy, a lot of what we learned in South America really came into perspective. For example, dates and names we had heard about while visiting Inca ruins made a lot more sense when we got to Spain. It was a good reminder of how interconnected the world really is.

Europe is advanced – in many ways more so than the United States. But there have still been things that have baffled us. Life’s simple expectations that we have as Americans just do not exist over here…like shower curtains, free tap water, double beds, pre-cut pizzas, washcloths, adequate coin circulation, cold beer, mounted shower heads, free bathrooms, drivers who don’t swerve into oncoming traffic, train tickets that actually show the train number and departure time, and construction sites that are closed to the public. 

It seems that everything in Europe is either under construction or “under restoration”. It’s hard not to find a main attraction that isn’t partly covered in scaffolding. What’s unbelievable is that places still charge full-price to see something even if you can’t see it…and they don’t tell you in advance! In 10 years I guess I’ll have to come back to see that restoration work I paid for.

In honor of the ridiculous number of churches that we’ve passed through, here are our top picks:

Favorite big church #1: Sagrada Familia (Barcelona, Spain)

Favorite big church #2: Siena (Italy)

Favorite small church: Bled (Slovenia)

We have completely lucked out when it comes to being in Europe during epic sporting events. From the moment we landed in Amsterdam all the way through Florence, we enjoyed 3 whole months of European soccer championships and the Euro Cup – played every 4 years on an alternating schedule with the World Cup. We were the worst fair-weather fans of all time…cheering for whichever country we happened to be in at the moment. There was a televised game every night and the restaurants would wheel big screen TVs into the squares for everyone to watch while they dined.

Have you ever wondered which Olympic sports other countries watch on TV? I did, but then it got old after one day. NBC has censored us by blocking all online videos from being shown outside of the US. So at first we were forced to watch what the Croatians deem important….ping pong and handball. Finally we got to some places with satellite TV and saw cool events like triathlon, marathon, tennis, gymnastics, swimming, and track and field (which they call “athletics”). Still, I miss Bob Costas and his crazy toupee.

Have I mentioned that European “beaches” are 99% rocks? Sure I have, but I’ll rant about it again. How can an entire developed continent – which enjoys all of life’s other luxuries – put up with this? I mean honestly, after laying on rocks for 30 minutes it looks like you have a skin disease. Americans, please, get out there and enjoy your sandy beaches. Frolic on them. Roll around in them. Take a nap on them simply because you’re so damn comfortable. I’m not sure we realize how good we have it.

European cars are like micro-machines. 

At any given time, Europeans (more specifically in the Mediterranean) are either holding a cigarette or an ice cream cone.

If European fashion is any sort of precursor to American fashion, then I predict that Birkenstocks will be making a comeback. They were everywhere in Italy. That’s right, the shoe of 1997 is back. This has made me realize that I have now reached the age when I can spot 15-year fashion cycles.

If the French get their way, chic fanny packs are right around the corner. Prepare yourselves.

Europe. It’s a real class act.

ON OUR STATE OF WELL-BEING…

While watching the Opening Ceremonies, I had a startling realization. The TV was on mute, and when I would sporadically glance over at the parade of athletes, I could correctly identify the country within 3 seconds solely by seeing the flag bearer’s face. I realized how much I had broadened my horizons.

Before getting to Europe, fellow travelers had scared us about the quality of the hostels and the lack of Internet. Neither of these turned out to be a problem at all. Our other major worry was the heat. This was a problem, and there were some days I thought I might go crazy. It was particularly hot in Spain, Italy and Croatia, but we powered through.

Trip planning in Europe was so much harder than in South America. In countries like Bolivia, there may only be 3 or 4 cities that 90% of people visit. That makes it easy because it’s fairly obvious what to choose. In Europe everything is so nice that there are endless options. That was difficult for us because (1) we didn’t have time to research everything and (2) we can be a bit indecisive.

While we were still vigilant throughout Europe, it’s been more relaxing to know that we didn’t have a bullseye on our bags. People weren’t waiting to steal our stuff at any moment. We could actually go into the ocean at the same time together, which is something we didn’t feel like we could do in Brazil.

Here’s a funny thing about communicating…you don’t necessarily need to speak a country’s language. You just need to be able to speak their back-up language. We managed to get by in Italy and France and counted our blessings that we are from an English-speaking country. But if you’re from Russia, what do you do? We have no clue.

I have an ice cream problem. I’ve had so much of it that I’ve become dependent. At the end of the day, I crave ice cream like a gainfully employed adult craves a glass of wine.

On a related note, several people have commented about Steve’s weight loss. On our flight to the Aran Islands in Ireland, our plane was so small that they had to weigh us to balance out the plane. This was when Steve discovered that he’s lost thirty pounds since we left San Diego! Everyone’s reaction has been pretty unanimous…nobody thought he had anything to lose. From the sweets of Belgium and the fried food of Great Britain to the tapas of Spain and the carbs of Italy, we have eaten well. This just goes to show what getting out from behind your cubicle desk can do. We walk a lot. Activity…it’s good stuff.

We’ve been traveling for 6 months now and the wear and tear on our equipment is starting to show. Halfway through Italy all of our stuff started to break. The zipper on my backpack spontaneously combusted, my flip flop blew out, and the sole on my running shoe is peeling back. To make matters really worse, the flash on our camera stopped working, our iPhone freezes, the iPhone case cracked, the Kindle case ripped, and the ‘h’, ‘g’, apostrophe and backspace keys are our laptop intermittently decide they need a day off. All of these technology problems are not good news for a pair of flashpackers.

These tribulations just been magnified by the fact that we’ve been moving so quickly the last 2 months…changing cities sometimes almost every night. Lately we have been feeling more stressed out than we think we should be for having a year off.

We’ve made mistakes – especially in Italy – with trains, hotels, tolls, and the Dolomites hiking mishap. We chalk it up to how fast we’ve been traveling. We set a blistering pace for ourselves that we just haven’t been able to keep up with. It’s been a reminder that we really didn’t know what we were doing when we first planned our trip. We wanted to try out different paces to see what we liked. This was a test, and we learned a valuable lesson about what our limits are. Steve said it best, “The last month and a half has been fun but hard. If we were to keep up this pace, it would be hard to have fun.”

In the midst of all this madness, we’ve also had annoyances back at home. We’ve basically had to evict our tenants in San Diego and we were victims of credit card fraud – in the US of all places. Lately we’ve felt like we’ve gone through a gauntlet of bad luck. We completely expected to have some low points on our trip. After all, you can’t have the highs without the lows, right? We are trying to get our balance back in order.

In the exact same way that we felt three months ago when we left South America, we are ready to go but a little scared to leave. We’ve learned that 3 months is about the limit for how much time we can spend in one continent before getting stir crazy. When we arrived in our final city of Kotor in Montenegro and we weren’t marveling, we knew it was time to move on from Europe. This city deserved to be marveled at. At the same time, we have learned the European system. We’re in our comfort zone (as much as that’s possible), and the thought of starting over is daunting and scary.

But then we remind ourselves that we’ve done it before and we can do it again. Hey, it’s springtime in Australia! A fresh start sounds perfect.

OUR FAVORITE PICTURES

The Rosique Family

I can still remember the first day of my senior year of high school. My friends and I showed up thinking that we knew the school inside and out, only to be surprised with an influx of foreign exchange students…something that was pretty unusual for my small Ohio school system. It was so fun to, all of a sudden, have these new friends from all over the world. I have no doubt that it was one of the early contributing factors to this travel bug that I have developed.

From this I became very dear friends with a Spanish foreign exchange student named Maria del Carmen Rosique Hernandez…better known as Mamen. Andalucia is the home of Mamen and the amazing Rosique family. Whenever I visit their house in Malaga, they always make me feel like part of their family.

Last year Mamen’s sister, Virginia, and Virginia’s boyfriend, Angel, did a tour through the US and lived with Steve and I for two weeks in San Diego. We promised them that if they set their wedding date while we were in Europe, we would make every effort to be there. Fast forward a year later and here we are!

As always, the Rosiques are the warmest and most generous family. Thank you for your friendship and for spending so much time with us during the busy wedding week.

Congratulations are in order to the newlyweds, Virginia and Angel Garcia!

It was so fun to see a Spanish wedding and how it differs from American weddings. Here are my top 5 Spanish wedding customs that we need to bring to the US:

Fancy Outfits – the Spanish don’t just go to weddings…they go to weddings prom-style. Everyone is decked out in their best suits and formal dresses. I somehow forgot to pack my ball gown in my backpack, so luckily we had a team of Rosiques to hodgepodge outfits together for us. I think we cleaned up pretty well!

Fans – not only did they hand out Spanish fans, called “abanicos” to all of their guests, but the bride was also sporting a white lacy fan during the ceremony and reception. Looking around the church during the ceremony, it was a flurry of fan-waving action. By the way, it is completely acceptable for men to use an abanico.

Rice – Let’s bring the rice-throwing tradition back to the US! Forget about the birds. It’s fun!

Clowns – when I first saw the clowns appear into the reception tent, I was a little confused. Then I realized that they were there for the kiddos. The clowns kept them busy all night long playing games, jumping in the bouncy castle and getting their faces painted. This also meant that by the end of the night, they were so completely worn out, they fell asleep right next to the dance floor where the DJ was blaring dance music into their ears. 

All Nighters – Spanish weddings go LATE. How late? The first bus back to the hotel was at 1:00am. The last bus was at 5:00am. I was slightly embarrassed to admit that at our wedding, I think the last bus left the reception at 10:30pm. We are such boring losers when you think about it! This photo was snapped at about 2:30am when the flamenco arms, claps and finger snaps were still in full force.

My parents, Steve and I were honored to be invited and included in Virginia and Angel’s special Spanish wedding day in Malaga. Thank you Rosique family! When in America, our casa is your casa!

Spain Part 3: Andalucia

Jumping on a high-speed train (going 269 km/hour) from Madrid, we rendezvoused with my dad in Malaga for a weeklong tour through Southern Spain – also known as Andalucia.

From roughly 700-1492 AD, this area of Spain was controlled by the Moors – Muslims from North Africa. What resulted is a section of Spain with wonderfully strong Islamic influences that make it look and feel different from the rest of the country.

Our first stop was the city of Granada, the capital of Moorish control in the Iberian Peninsula.

The Alhambra was the Moors’ crown jewel. Part fortress and part palace, the Alhambra stuns with its hilltop setting, ornate Moorish architecture and manicured gardens with peaceful water features.

Southern Spain’s countryside is full of olive trees, orange groves, sunflower fields and bull billboards – with no advertising purpose other than to serve as a cultural reminder.

 

So after visiting Granada, we rented a car and spent 3 days hopping among Andalucia’s charm bracelet of white hilltop villages. 

 

Ronda is a beautiful village straddling a gorge with an impressive bridge and Spain’s oldest bullring.

Arcos de la Frontera is a curious little town perched on top of a dramatic cliff.

It’s been called the “Queen of the White Towns” and has been compared to the train of a wedding dress – its white-washed houses tumbling down the back of the ridge. This is one of those places that makes a mark in your memory.

It’s the small details that make Arcos so charming…the flower pots, the door knockers, the circle in front of the church where they used to perform exorcisms.

Steve was such a trooper driving through the tiny and steep roads, around corners that seemed impossible, and dodging baby strollers and motorcycles. After our third attempt to reach our hotel at the summit of the village, I asked Steve if he was traumatized by the experience. He answered an emphatic, “yes”.

Next up was Jerez de la Frontera, famous for flamenco, Andalucian horses and sherry. In the same way that champagne can technically only come from the Champagne region of France, sherry can only come from Jerez. We took a nice bodega tour of the most famous of sherries, Tio Pepe.

Our last stop in Andaluica was the charming city of Sevilla.

Here’s how I would sum up Sevilla in one picture…

There are striking Spanish buildings, but even more impressive are the colorful ceramic tiles that blanket the city. The Moors developed the craft of glazing ceramic tiles and they are now a defining feature of Sevilla’s parks and streets.

It's very common for buildings to have interior patios, and it's fun to casually peak into them whenever a door is left cracked open.

Sevilla also has a wonderful Alcazar or “royal palace”. It was the summer home of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabel – the Catholic Monarchs who led Spain to victory over the Moors and who financed Spain’s explorations of the New World. It felt weird to stand in the private chapel off of their bedroom and know that these were the same people who took down the Incas and so heavy altered the entire destiny of South America.

This palace is also where Ferdinand Magellan charted his course to circumnavigate the globe and where Chistopher Columbus met with the monarchs before his famous voyage to the Americas. There was a room dedicated to the Virgin of the Navigators where explorers would come to pray for good winds on their expeditions.

Because of the heavy Moorish influences throughout Andalucia, Sevilla’s Alcazar at times felt reminiscent of the Alhambra in Granada…but I liked it even better.

This is a truly breathtaking palace of immense detail that we highly recommend to anyone traveling to Spain.

By the time we got to Sevilla, we were itching to see some flamenco. We struggled with whether to go to a “show” or simply seek out an impromptu performance in a local bar. This is a reoccurring travel conundrum, and both sides have their pluses and minuses. We ended up choosing a show, and we were glad that we went this route so that we could see a bit flasher of a performance.

Flamenco dancers must be the world’s best tap dancers. It’s a highly rhythmic art combing guitar, singing, stomping, clapping and finger snapping. Flamenco artists snap their fingers so loud that you honestly think there must be tiny microphones hidden on their hands somewhere. There are also fancy ruffled dresses and very intense facial expressions.

I couldn’t possibly write about Spain without mentioning their obsession with ham. Thanks to our local friends, we got the low-down on the legs of ham that have been hanging all over the country. For example, it’s better to buy a leg with a black hoof instead of a white hoof. Who knew!

In just about every restaurant or café throughout Spain, you can spot a leg attached to an apparatus with a gentleman manually and so skillfully slicing the thinnest piece of meat you’ve ever seen. There are many different kinds of cuts, with the best being in this order: Iberico, Serrano, Lomo, Chorizo, Taquito. Funny enough, the lean Taquitos (the worst quality on the leg) were our favorites! This is simply because our American stomachs can’t handle the 70/30 fat-to-meat ratio on the other cuts. Our Spanish friends assured us several times that the fat was the best part.

Finally, as our week through Andalucia progressed, so did our encounters with all things bullfighting. Our first night in Malaga, we walked onto our hotel balcony and found this view.

Just about every town we visited had a bullring – each with different architecture, sizes, colors and flair. In Ronda we toured Spain’s oldest bullring and learned all about the traditions and progressive acts of the fight. There’s a chapel that the matadors pray in before they go into the ring and a hook where they hang the slain bull to sell off its meat. Bullfights are such an interesting cultural jewel of Spain.

I bet most Americans would expect that bullfights are just as common as football or baseball games, but that’s not so. These are special sporting events, and each city may only have bullfights during one week or maybe a few weekends out of the year. That’s why we were extremely lucky to be in Malaga for two bullfights of very different proportions...

On our first night in Malaga, our Spanish friend Mamen swooped us up from the train station and took us to the countryside for her boyfriend’s uncle’s 70^th birthday party. As we parked the car and walked up to the party, this is what we found.

The family had rented out a bullring for the day. With a live guitarist and violinist playing in the background, we watched a mock bullfight. A man pushes around a fake bull’s head on wheels while a mounted matador narrowly escapes the plastic bull using highly skilled horsemanship. Have you ever seen a horse gallop sideways? In the end, the mounted matador strikes the bull with fake swords and proceeds to proudly puff out his chest while milking the applause of the crowd. Bullfighters have incredible arrogance showmanship.

After the “bullfight”, they brought a real baby bull into the ring and let family members take turns with the cape. Mamen’s boyfriend, Jesus, had been practicing off You Tube videos and held his own in the ring. His brother, on the other hand, had his shirt ripped to shreds.

Then on our last night in Spain, the real deal took place at the Malaga bullring. Set to the tune of a 25-piece band, 3 matadors – with the help of their small entourage of picadors and banderilleros – each get a shot at 2 bulls a piece. By the end of the night, 6 bulls had been fought and a 7th bull entered the ring but was spared...we have no idea why.

The matadors are household names, but the bulls are equally as important. Just like in horse racing, the each bull’s farm, name, and weight are publicized prior to the fight.

I don’t know why we found this surprising, but the bullfight was very bloody. There’s a lot more involved, but to sum it up quickly and in layman’s terms…

The bull is released from its pen and the matador takes his first passes with a hot pink cape.

The matador’s first team member, the picador, comes out on an armored horse and stabs the bull in the shoulders with a long arrow-like pole. This is the first puncture of the bull and releases the tension that has built up in its shoulders.

The matador’s second set of team members, the banderilleros, run at the bull and – jumping in the air towards it face – plunge colorful barbed sticks into its back. If they miss or the sticks fall out, they have to do it again. This further weakens the bull’s muscles.

In the final stage, the matador comes back out and does some more passes with the bull using a red cape. His final act is to plunge a slightly curved sword through the bull’s shoulders straight into its heart. Within less than 20 seconds, the bull hits the ground.

One of the matador’s team members comes out with a dagger to put the final touches on the death near what looked to be the spinal cord.

A team of men come out to hitch the bull to a cart and drag it out of the stadium to the cheers of the crowd. Then they shovel up all of the blood into a bucket. Fight over.

After the initial shock wears off, it’s very entertaining. I always assumed that the word “Ole!” was just a stereotype that no one actually uses. Not so! Brave or skilled moves displayed by the matadors draw audible oles throughout the crowd. If a matador does an exceptional job, the crowd waves white handkerchiefs and he is awarded one of the bull’s ears. What a fitting way to spend our last night in this culture-rich country.

So to recap…Andalucia: sun, bullfights, olives, heat, ham, and flamenco. Soak it up! Ole!