A quick update from former Yugoslavia

I loved Hungary. Eastern Europe is soooo cool. Plus its affordable. My first night in Budapest I dropped $8 on dinner and had a bottle of water, rice, fries, salad, goulash, roast duck, steak, a pork chop and chicken breast wrapped in bacon.

Last night I went to the Hungarian National Opera in Budapest. I had a great seat for Puccini's Tosca that I bought for $2. Yep, two dollars. It was really cool. The Opera House was beautiful and the music was so loud and the atmoshpere so intimate that it was really impressive.

Anyway, my falling in love with Budapest and subsequent desire to see more of Eastern Europe was accentuated by the fact that tons of people in my hostel were just doing Eastern Europe and were saying that Serbia and Bosnia are incredible. So I decided to bag Venice and Greece and just stick to former Yugoslavia and the Balkans and work my way down to Istanbul where I need to be by June 16th to catch my flight to Prague (its ironic...I was so close to Prague in Budapest but find myself traveling thousands of miles and a continent away to get to Prague).

So, this morning I left Budapest and rode a train to Zagreb, Croatia. It was a pretty cool city. I ran into a bunch of missionaries leaving Zone Conference and they showed me the chapel, which was really cool (havent been for a couple weeks cause the Church hasn't been in the cities I've been in). After lunch with some kids from DC, I went up to Slovenia, riding the train with a couple girls from Boulder. Got into Ljubljana around 8:30pm and came to the hostel which is a converted prison - its really cool. We actually sleep in the cells.

Tomorrow, I'm headed up to the mountains to a small farm town on a lake where word on the street (and my guidebook) has it I can stay with a family on an alpine farm (near an alpine lake) for cheap. Ill be up there for a night or two and then head to Sarajevo (I talked to several people who have been before I decided to go and they all said its very safe, and said its an incredible experience to see the scars of war and a society in healing). So, I decided Greece has been there for thousands of years and will therefore probably be around for many to come, the opportunity to see Bosnia healing from the conflict is a unique one.

Ill be in Sarajevo for probably two days and then go to Serbia (probably Belgrade) before moving on to Transylvania in Romania and then Bulgaria where I believe I will successfuly culminate my quest for the world's greatest yoghurt.

I'm hoping to get into Istanbul on the 12th or so. I'll keep everyone posted as the journey progresses.

p.s. Slovenia is really cool...its so nice to see mountains again. And the temperature!...its a PERFECT 68 or so degrees:)

Maybe I'm not a "Museum Person" afterall

The train ride into Florence was quick as the allergens of Tusacn olive trees filled my nostrils and attacked my sanity.

My hostel was pretty cool...a big place with large, generic doorms, slippery marbel floors and bathrooms with trough-like sinks. On the recommendation of everyone I talked to, I headed to the Uffizi to wait in the requisite two-hour line for the privelege of paying $10 to see the masterpieces of the Renaissance's poster boys.

Having successfully avoided museums thus far in my journey, I was actually pretty excited to see a musem - especially one often considered to be the place for Renaissance art in the city many consider to be the capital of the Renaissance itself. And I had a slice of pizza and can of San Pellegrino to get me through the long wait.

So much for illusions of grandeur. What I, somehow in the 20 or so years of education I have endured somehow failed to learn, is that Renaissance art - at least that which is housed in the infamous Uffizzi is essentially five or six guys (Raphael, Michaelangelo, Donatello, Leanordo and a couple more) who painted strikingly similar portraits of Madonna e il Bambino (Mary and the baby Jesus). On top of these paintings, the rest of the museum is essentially filled with the works of these guys' students' paintings of essentially the same thing. Summarized: the Uffizzi has some cool statues; Kevin is not a fan of Renaissance paintings.

After the Uffizzi, I walked through the streets of Florence, taking in the sights of the Renaissance and then hit up a pizza place with two guys from DC I met five minutes earlier. I enjoyed the mushroom pizza immensely.

Siena

After sleeping in my garden shack my 2nd night in Cinque Terre, I got up, grabbed some breakfast and headed to the train station to catch the 11:00 to Pisa.

At Pisa, I wanted to find an Internet cafe to book a hostel in Florence, but Italy on Sunday is like Provo on Sunday...except NOTHING is open in Italy.

After walking for a while I decided I was close enough to the leaning tour to keep walking. So I walked and walked (carrying my pack), got there, took a few pictures of myself and walked back to the train station.

While I was waiting for my train to Florence, I pulled out my travel guide to read up on things to do there. EVERYONE says you have to go to the Ufizzi museum, so I read up on that. Turns out its closed on Monday (the day I was gonna be in Florence). So I left the platform and went to the ticket office to see if I could go to Siena instead, with the intention of going to Florence in a day or two. It was super easy to change my ticket and so I was off to Siena.

I had a connection in Empoli and the combined effects of Sunday and a railway strike (apparently common in Italy) delayed me and some Canadians there for a couple hours.

When I got to Siena, I set out to find what as best as I could tell was the only hostel in Siena...a 20 minute bus ride out of town. I waited for the bus to town, but as I went to step onto the bus, the driver hurried and shut the door and sped away (this happened twice in Siena).

I finally got on a bus with the ill-conceived notion that any bus would take me to the center of town. After a scenic and time-consuming ride through suburban Tuscany I jumped off the bus at a random stop and decided to get on the first bus heading back where I came from. While I waited I called the hostel and booked a bed. To my pleasant surprise I also saw while waiting that my guidebook told me which bus number to take to the hostel - and I was waiting at the stop for that bus number. I boarded the bus a half hour or so later and after winding back through the suburbs I arrived at...you guessed it...the train station. Apparently the guide book I bought in April is out-of-date.

To make a long and frustrating story short, I finally made it to the hostel which was an interesting conglomoration of the feelings elicited from hospitals and elementary schools. I was stoked to see that the rooms were small - only three people - and I only had one other guy in mine. I went across the street to get some (very good) pizza and headed up to my room to discover that my roommate was a 50 or so year-old Romanian who was chain smoking in his underwear on the bed in the room.

I switched rooms.

The next morning, I headed into Siena and took in the sights, sounds, and tastes of Tuscany. It was a lot of fun. In the early evening, I ran into some people I met in Cinque Terre and got some food with them. Then I used my phone card I bought from the canadians in the Empoli train station to call home, talked with mom and dad and then caught the late bus back to the hostel. Good times in Siena.

Cinque Terre (continued)

Since it didn't look promising to find accomodations for the next night, I got up pretty early to hike the Cinque Terre so that I could leave in the evening and head to Florence. On the way to the trail, though, I decided to stop in at the one hostel in town to see if they had any availability for that night (Saturday night). Surprisingly they did. Although it was kind of an annex as opposed to the hostel itself. It was a 5-minute walk away and was a free-standing little building in the yard of a bigger building. I'll stop short of calling it a shack-it was made out of concrete.

I ditched my backpack there, grabbed some pizza for breakfast (I'm pretty sure that's ok since I am in Italy) and headed to the trail. My legs were still hurting from the sunburn so I wore long pants. It was REALLY hot. The first ascent was steep, long and hot, but a guy was selling lemons at the top in the shade. Unfortunately, when this guy gave me a lemon, I couldn't make lemonade. I just had a lemon. But I ate that lemon and it was surprisingly refreshing. "Energy!" he said. Fair enough. The descent to the first town hugging the Italian Riviera was stunning (as were all the subsequent towns). I started my hike in the first town and walked through the remaining four (around 12km) eating gelatto and pannini along the way. I am a huge fan of Cinque Terre.

When I got to the last town I bought a train ticket for the 6:10pm train back to Monterosso (the first town). However, apparently you have to timestamp your ticket before you get on the train or some Italian tough guy will yell at you, threaten to call the polizia and demand 5 euro on the spot (even though the ticket was only one euro and 20 cents. Oh well; lessons learned.

Back in Monterosso, I went back to my garden shed, showered, changed and went to dinner with a couple I met from Colorado. We had awesome pizza and for the first time in a long while, I ate till I was full.

I walked Lover's Lane alone

After a couple hours in Monaco (plenty of time to see virtually the entire country), I headed back to the train station to catch a train to Genova, Italy. On the train I ran into Amy and Erica again...apparently things didn't work out with crashing on that guy's couch.

The trip to Genova was nice. I had a good conversatin with a Bolivian immigrant trying to make a new life in Northern Italy. He hadn't been able to find ANY work for 6 months in Italy and was an accountant back home in Cuchabamba. Sounded like he spoke decent Italian, too (at least he answered his phone "pronto.")

At Genova, I took a few steps out of the train station to buy a new book (I read Angels and Demons too fast and needed a new read). I picked up a cheap copy of Moby Dick and headed back in to catch the train to Monterosso, the first town in the Cinque Terre.

Upon exiting the train station, the girls and I had no idea where to find a hostel and Cinque Terre occupied all of a page or so in our guide books. We wandered around for a while optimistically checking buildings labeled "hotel" but were ultimately deterred by the price tags.

We heard that there was one hostel in town and got directions to it from a hotel. It was getting late and we were getting desperate. As we were working our way up the street to the hostel (which was full) a woman called out from behind us in Italian. I turned and she said only "room?" "Si" I said as she led us to here little house and offered us a room with a double and a single bed for 25 euros each. We were thrilled to not have to sleep on the beach and bit the bullet on the price.

My hand is starting to hurt. I'll write more later.

Ferraris and Security Cameras

My sunburned legs felt a little better in the morning and Amy, Erica and I caught a train to Monaco. They were gonna stay a night with someone they met through couchsurfing.com so we split up when we arrived and I spent a couple hours hiking the hills of the world's wealthiest (per capita) country generating odd if not cold looks with every turn.

I got a ham and brie sandwich from the one grocery store I could find and then went to the Monte Carlo to eat it.

Monaco was pretty cool...they were setting up for the Grand Prix this week so they'd constructed bleachers and barricades throughout all the streets. Lots of nice cars and security cameras.

The French Riviera (and my mustache)

I got up pretty early in Barcelona and John and Sarah (the couple from Chicago) and I walked over to the train station and boarded a train for Nice (they got off at another town, though).

I had a two-hour layover in Montpellier so I walked into town, found a grocery store and got some blue cheese, bread and a carton of grape juice (yes, unfermented grape juice - which costs more than wine).

I rolled into Nice in the early evening and was able to get a bed in the hostel recommended by both of my guide books and right next to the train station.

My bed was in a room with two Korean girls and a Canadian couple. Across the hall, I heard American voices and went over to say hi. It was two girls from Oregon (Amy and Erica) and a girl (Amanda) from London.

We went out to dinner (along with Omer? from Israel) Pricey and not very good food.

That night I shaved my beard but left the mustache. Ya, mustaches are super cool.

The next morning we went to the beach and laid out for a few hours. The French Riviera is seriously beautiful. The azure water looks so cool. And it was nice to get in and swim for a while.

In the late afternoon, we caught a train to Cannes to check out the film festival. It was en route that I was hit with the cruel realization that I'd forgotten to sunscrean my legs, which were now painted bright salmon.

We went to a grocery store to buy wine (for the girls) and another box of grape juice (for me) for the 40-minute ride to Cannes.

When we got to Cannes, we headed toward the Palais de Festival and saw a caravan of black cars labeled "Zodiac" en route to the premier. When we got to the Palais, we were able to squeeze in 30 or so yards from the red carpet and saw the stars head into the theater for the premier.

Then we went and hung out on the beach for a while.

On our way back to the train station, we walked past the Palais again and the paparazzi was getting ready for the premier to end and the people to walk down the red carpet.

Security let a few people into the area right by the red carpet and we got in. We were a few feet from Jake Gyllenhaal as he left the Palais (based on my experience with the three girls I was with, I gather that that was a pretty big deal).

We caught the train back to Nice right as my legs were about to burst with pain and I rushed to my room to put on some aloe as soon as we got back to the hostel.

Barcelona

I rolled into Barcelona on a half-hour late train and arrived at the Metro at 12:01 am. It closes at midnight. Luckily there were three other American guys there trying to get to town and we were able to split a cab for 3 euros each.

I had actually booked a hostel in Barca, since it's so popular with tourists and I had no trouble finding the place (with a little help from an American hippie who I think lives in Barcelona).

I shared a three-bed room with a nice young couple from Chicago and the next day we went out to check out the Gaudi sites together (I also ran into them in Cinque Terre - small world).

The Gaudi stuff was pretty cool. We went up to the top of Sagrada Familia and then had a nice lunch in town. I had Paella cause it seemed like the thing to do in Barcelona.

The rest of the day I just went and got lost in the Gothic area and enjoyed the atmosphere of the city.

Back in Europe

I made it back to Europe. I spent only around a day in Fes...it was a fascinating city, but I had to get back to Spain. I shared the copartment in the train with a very nice Moroccan family who shared some snacks with me and tried to communicate in Arabic and French.

I was really surprised to see how different - and green - northern Morocco was from the South. Tangier was a pretty cool city, but nothing like Marrakech and Fes. It was very modern. I caught a ferry across the Strait of Gibraltar around 9pm which took 35 minutes to get to Spain. Spain is two hours ahead of Morocco, so all of a sudden it was 11:35pm and I had nowhere to stay.

I took the free ferry company bus from Tarifa to Algeciras and headed toward the street my guidebook said had cheap hostels and hotels. I instantly found one that didn´t look too disturbing and for 15 euros decided to just do it and get some sleep before my early morning train to the North.

In the morning, I put all my valuables in my pocket, locked my door and went to take a shower. When I got back from my shower, my door was wide open. Nothing was missing, cause it was all in my pockets. Which is good for everyone, because I would have hated to start the day with a Spanish butt-kicking.

The train ride to Madrid was beautiful but unfortunately I had to wait like 7 hours to connect to Barcelona.

Also unfortunate is the fact that my Internet time is up.

Until next time...ciao.

The Sahara, Marrakech and Fes.

We left on Wednesday morning at 7am and boarded a van for a 3-day over the Atlas mountains and into the Sahara. I traveled in a van with Katie (the girl from Scotland), Vicky (from England, the French Canadians (Gabrielle and Maiti) and a 60-ish couple from Bologne, Italy. We traveled over the Atlas the first day, stopping at a dozen or so ancient Kasbahs along the way. Then we spen the night in a hotel near the Atlas gorges (a lot like the Narrows in Zion National Park). After hiking a ways up the gorge, we got back in the van and trecked across hundreds of kilometers of nothing until we got to the sand dunes of the Sahara on the Algerian border. Here, we boarded camels and made our way over the dunes for an hour or so during sunset.

We arrived at our Berber camp (a circle of tents made from Berber carpets) just as a sand storm blew in. I quickly came to understand why they recommended I wear a turbin. The sand storm was really rough so we went into a tent and talked with other travelers while the Berbers made our Tagine dinner.

After dinner, the Berbers played their drums and other instrument (kind of like a maraca) for us. Later, a few of us stayed up singing Beatles songs while the Berbers played the beat on their instruments. Then I busted out my harmonica and played Amazing Grace and a few other songs while the Berbers played along on their drums. We stayed up until around 1 am, then my four wives and I headed to our tent for four hours of sleep before getting up at sunrise.

At sunrise, we hiked to the top of a huge dune and watched the sun climb over the Sahara, casting brilliant red light over the already vividly red sand.

We then got back on our camels and worked our way back to a hotel at the foot of the dunes where we had a pathetic breakfast and boarded the buses for a very long, very hot journey home. The drive back to Marrakech took around 9 or 10 hours. The sun was very hot and they had installed aftermarket locks on all but the front windows of the van - and those were only 'allowed' to be opened half way. No air conditioning and Ahmed (the drive with, as one guy put it, "as much charisma as a wet rug," refused even to use the vents). Oh well; we survived (barely) the ride back and then my wives and I hit up our favorite food stand in Marrakech's main square for a wonderful meal of shish kebabs, olives, orange juice and mint tea.

We then said goodbye to the French Canadians and the Brits and I spent the night in the Hotel Ali. Our room was approximately as hot as an Industrial Revolution-aged furnace, and I was awakened by the very loud call to prayer at 4 am and then again by the incessant "melodies" of snake charmers that began around 7 am.

The bottom line: Southern Morocco was a wonderful, magical place. It was culturally fascinating and I had great company.
I arrived 10 minutes late for the 10-minute late train headed for Fes and arrived here around 11pm last night. I spent the night in the Hotel Cascade and spent the morning getting lost in the crazy labrynth of thousands of narrow, winding and often dead-ending roads that make up the Medina of this Medival city.

Now I have to run catch a train 5 hours north to Tangier and work my way back across Gibraltar into Spain.

Shukran.

They call me Ali Baba

Morocco has been awesome. I met four girls in the Madrid airport - one from Denmark, one from Germany, one from England and one from Scotland. I traveled with them for a few days and then the Dane and German left and the Brits and I headed out for the Sahara. There were two French Canadian girls in our van, so I almost immediately replaced my two lost 'wives.' Since for the last 6 days or so I've been traveling with 4 girls and I have a beard, all the locals call me Ali Baba.

Snake charmers, casbahs and mint tea

Yesterday I wrapped up my day in Madrid with a walk through the Parque del buen Retiro, botanical gardens and central Madrid. Then I went to the airport to catch my flight to Morocco.

Point of information: it is widely understood among travelers that women traveling without a man can be hassled in Morocco.

So, at the airport, there were only 4 other backpackers...all girls; which worked out well. They were two pairs: one from England and Scotland and one from Denmark and Germany. We decided to travel together, thereby providing me with company and them with a man (and a man with a beard at that).

Another point of information: typing here is slow going. The Arabic keyboard really is a struggle.

The Danish girl called the other day to make a reservation at a hotel in Marrakesh, so we all decided to share a cab and stay the same place. Apparently the guy she spoke with didn't write it down though and they were full. So, he arranged for us to stay at another place - more a family home than a hotel, but it is incredible - and around 9 dollars a night. It has an amazing courtyard, roof deck and beautiful tyle decor throughout. I slept great except for the unexpected call to prayer from the city-wide loud speakers at 4am.

Tomorrow the English and Scottish girls and I are headed out for a three-day excursion in the Sahara and Atlas Mountains. I need to meet everyone soon for dinner in the main square (cous cous tonight), so I need to go now. I'll end by saying that Morocco is everything I imagined and definitely the most foreign place I have ever been.

Madrid

Hola,

Last night I left Lisbon on a bus headed for Madrid. We left at 9pm Lisbon time. The bus driver conducted the 8-hour operation as if ours was a one-way bus trip to Auschwitz. After steering clear of him at every possible instant and cuddling with a big Portuguese guy next to me who struggled to understand the concept of fitting in one´s own seat, I arrived bright and early in Madrid: just before 6am (Spain time).

The metro wasnt´t even running that early so I hung out in the station reading up on Madrid in my travel book and then, when the metro opened, headed to a recommended hostel. I got there and rang the doorbell but no one answered. I waited a while and a guy left the building. So I went in after him and climbed the stairs to the 3rd floor of the building where the hostel was. I rang the doorbell there and after a few minutes, an older Spanish man shuffled to the door in his robe, looking like he´d just been awakened from the dead. I´d forgotten the Spanish reputation for being ¨night people.¨ He told me he didn´t have room right then but to come back at 10am. I suspect he just wanted to go back to bed, but anyway, I left my backpack there and made my way through the surprisingly cold morning air to the Prada museum. Didn´t open until 9am. So I sat and shivered while I read Angels and Demons, then tried to find my options for church on a map of Madrid, then made my way back to the hostel.

The Spanish dueño was awake and cheerful now and led me to a private room. I jumped in the shower (first warm shower in a week), put on my crumpled white shirt and tie, and headed to church.

Church was great. There were 12 missionaries, so I got to speak some English. In spite of being intensely tired, I stayed awake through most of the meetings, spoke briefly with a woman from Sweden, and headed to the bull fighting stadium to buy a ticket to tonight´s bull fight. After that, I went to the Madrid temple and made myself what is becoming my usual lunch of bread and cheese (although this time I topped it off with a little sausage and chocolate pudding for dessert).

Then I made my way back to the hostel for an hour and a half nap before the big fight. At around 6:40pm I worked my way on the metro back to the bull fighting stadium and took my seat on the 15th row. The atmosphere was captivating. Then a matador and bull entered the ring. The first fight (if you can call it that) was a little disconcerting, but once I acclimated myself to the violence, it was a fascinating cultural experience. Now its late, my Internet time is expiring, and I need to go to bed so I can try to go to the Prada again in the morning.

Obrigado

Having been to Paris several times before, I got my fill of it pretty quick this time. I spent the evening of May 2nd hanging out with Tim from Australia and Mendes from Zurich (his family's from Argentina). We met in our hostel in the Latin Quarter near Notre Dame (it was really cool to be so central). We walked all over the city, had crepes on Champs Elysees, got kicked out of the cafe chairs at the cafe we BOUGHT food from because we didn't buy drinks and then we headed up the Eiffel Tower. It was like 11pm so the price was way cheaper than normal (11.50 Euros), so even though two of us had already done it, we decided to go up again. I don't think I'll need to do it again for at least 20 years.

Yesterday morning (May 3rd), the three of us headed over to the train station so Mendes and I could book tickets out of town (Mendes to Bordeaux and me to Madrid). As it turns out, in spite of my having a Eurail pass, they wanted almost 50 euros to take the train to Madrid. So I just booked a trip to the French/Spanish border (Irun) and decided to work it out when I got there.

I did head up to Monte Marte (or however it's spelled) and Sacre Coere for the first time before I left Paris and I really liked it up there. Very cool, quaint atmosphere with artists everywhere.

In the afternoon (yesterday) I jumped on my train to Irun and arrived at 10 or 11 at night. It took me all of 5 seconds to decide I didn't want to spend the night there, so I jumped on another train headed for Lisbon. As an extension of my original trip, the distance to the Portuguese border was free and then I had to pay 20 euros to get to Lisbon. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go to Lisbon or Porto, but after VERY little sleep on account of roudy Portuguese drunks, I decided to just stay on the same train since it was already heading to Lisbon and we were already in the middle of Portugal.

On the train, I spent the first bit in a cabin (or whatever they're called) with two kids from Torino, Italy. They were way nice and hooked me up with some bread and ham for dinner. Then I got kicked out of that cabin, because apparently we had assigned seats (you'd never had known it). So, I went to my assigned seat in a cabin shared with three drunk Portuguese guys and a very friendly older guy from Southern England. Had it not been between the hours of 2 and 7am that we enjoyed each others' company I probably would have enjoyed it more. Alas, I was super tired. We rolled into Lisbon around 11 or 11:45 this morning. Maybe 10 or 10:45 (there was a time change). I caught the Metro to the Rossio stop in the heart of Lisbon (a very cool atmosphere) and got my own room with a balcony in a hostel run by a friendly family for 15 euros. Way better than the 28 euros I spent two nights ago to be jammed into a Parisian hostel with who knows how many 15 year-old French kids.

I just took a quick nap and walked around Lisbon for a bit. I'm in the midevil part right now about to head up to the castle. I'm trying to decide if I should spend more time here or Madrid, but I'll probaly spend another day or two here. I like the pace of things here.

I cant figure out the French keyboard

Well I made it to Paris with no trouble at all. There was plenty of room on the SLC - Cincinnati flight and I got to fly business class to Paris (my first time). I took the metro from the airport into the city and got off at Notre Dame cause I recognized the name. Sure enough, there was Notre Dame. I'm actually getting really tired now and don't have a place to stay so I think I'll go work on that. If anyone needs some Internet time in Paris let me know. I have a half-hour credit at Milk by the Bastille Metro stop. Adios (insert French equivalent here).