From April 24 to June 11, 1998 I travelled through Europe and Israel
Here's a little of what I did
(hopefully I didn't get anyone's name wrong)
Waiting to hear about the demo reels I had sent out was getting rather tedious. I could do some more work, but first I thought I'd take a bit of a break. I had heard about a tour going to Israel for two weeks, and thought that might be fun, and since I was going, I thought I might stop in Europe on the way there for a week. That week kept growing and growing until one day the travel agent phoned to say that if I left in one week, I could get a really good deal on an airline ticket. A week later I was on a plane to London at the start of a month in Europe.
The flight was somewhat long, and our brief stop in Iceland turned out to be longer than expected since the crew mis-counted the passengers in Vancouver, and so spent far too much time searching for the invisible man. On the way there I chatted with the guy sitting next to me. Jim had taken part in the Vancouver Sun Run shortly before leaving, and was off to run in the London Marathon before going to visit his family in Scotland. Since the marathon was the next day, he was questioning his own sanity in wanting to run around London while suffering from jet lag.
Arriving in Gatwick, we had to take a train to get to London, and while Jim and I bought tickets for the less expensive train (£8.20!!), Jim saw a train about to leave, and rushed us on - which turned out to be the more expensive train, so we had to pay a penalty.
From Victoria Station, we took the subway to Earl's Court where we went our separate ways. Exiting the train station I was immediately set upon by a woman to wanted to lead me to "a good hostel", and not having the energy to argue, I just went with her.
The Silver Fern was an experience I don't think I need to repeat. It wasn't a terrible place, but the room I stayed in was on the top floor (lots and lots of stairs), which I shared with a Spanish guy who was a stripper and had terrets syndrome. If he stopped talking for more than half a minute or so, he would bark like a seal. On the plus side, since he was a stripper, he was out all night until something like 6am, so I never had to worry about falling asleep because of him. The bed, however, was very uncomfortable, so it didn't help me have a good night's sleep.
London is very expensive. Every time I was getting hungry while walking around, I'd just look at the menus in the windows of restaurants, and I'd realize I wasn't that hungry, and drink some more water.
Since I didn't really come with piles of money, I chose not to spend it on the sights in London. I'd been before in 1982, and felt that that was good enough for most of it. I'd generally just walk around, and see what I could for free (which is rather a lot, actually). To help orient myself in London, I'd just follow the tourist busses. There are piles of them, and they all seem to follow the same route, so I'd just go wherever they went, seeing whatever I wanted to see for as long as I wanted, without having to worry about catching another bus. I got to see things that I wouldn't have if I'd been on a bus. One day I saw a street performance of George and the Dragon, which was rather amusing, and nowhere near where the busses went.
I soon left London in an attempt to find some place that's not so expensive. I took a bus to Brussels in Belgium which drove on a special train to go in the Euro Tunnel to France.
The bus dropped me off on a side street near the southern train station. After a while I managed to find the station, and figure out how to get to the Central station which was closer to the hostels. I got a map, and went to the hostel I thought I'd like to stay at. When I got there, however, the man at the reception told me that they were full, and he thought all the hotels in town were full as well. After a momentary panic in which I imagined that I would be sleeping in the train station or something like that, I got on the phone and found a hostel that had one free bed (I think someone failed to show up and lost their reservation). The next morning, however, another group of business people arrived, and I had to leave.
I decided it would be best to phone and make a reservation at a hostel for that night, then hopped on a train heading to Brugge (also in Belgium).
Brugge is an old city in Flanders. It was interesting to walk around because there were a few streets that were just packed with tourists, but if you just went a block off them, you could be alone. It's a nice relaxed atmosphere, and it's easy to walk around the old city with the excellent tourist map.
While I was there I took a bus tour led by a real character from Quazimodo tours. I took the "triple treat" tour which included stopping for a Belgian waffle, a chocolate and a beer. The chocolate factory was certainly tempting, and I think everyone besides me bought something. I certainly thought about it, but realized that if I bought anything, it'd never make it home - it'd melt if I didn't eat it first. I'm not a beer drinker, but I drank the beer anyway. It's kind of weird, people talk about going to Europe and enjoying all the beer and wine, and seem kind of surprised when I tell them I like neither of them.
From Brugge I phoned some family friends in Eppstein, Germany. When my father took sabbatical from the university to work in Kenya from 1982-1984, he got Mr. Schwertdle to take some leave from Hoechst (a chemical company) to replace him. The next day I got on a train to go to their place.
The train from Brugge to Cologne was quite empty, but from Cologne to Frankfurt it was packed and I had to stand with my bag by the exit. From Frankfurt I took a local train to Eppstein where Mr. Schwerdtle met and drove me to his house.
After travelling for a bit, it was really nice when Mrs. Schwerdtle asked me if I wanted something to eat, and if I had any clothes that she could clean. While I was in Brugge, I washed my clothes for the first time, but in the cool and damp climate, they didn't really dry. They were quite shocked to find out that I didn't really have any concrete plans as to where I was going next, so they and their son, Rüdiger, forced me to make some decisions. The next day I had planned to leave, but in the morning I didn't feel so good, so I lay around for a while, and in the afternoon we went to a swimming pool.
The next day I caught a bus from Frankfurt which drove down "The Romantic Road". It was sort of a tour bus, with stops at different places along the way, but since the stops only lasted long enough to snap a few pictures and go to the bathroom, I wouldn't recommend it. I took the bus as far as Rothenburg, which is an old walled city. It was a wealthy city along an important trading route, but it became very poor, and so the old buildings were preserved since they didn't have money to replace them. When tourism started coming to Rothenburg in the late 19th century, the city government passed bylaws to preserve all the old buildings.
I stayed at the Rossmühle Youth Hostel which used to be the old town's horse-mill (used when the town was under seige), and I think they gave me the best view around. It was a great hostel, but unfortunately since it's in Bavaria, you technically have to be 26 or younger (or have a child under 18) to stay there. Technically, I say, since one of the guys in the room with me was older than that. Rob and Jeff work for American Airlines and flew to Europe for $50 a piece. They rented a car and were driving next to Munich, so I asked them if I could go with them. That night we went on "The Night Watchman's Tour" lead by George, where I met Alisa Hirschberg and Dave Braun who had also been on the bus from Frankfurt. After the tour was over, Alisa, Dave and I followed George's advice and went to Hell. The oldest building in town dates from the 10th century, and now contains "The Hell Bar."
The next day, I went with Rob and Jeff on the Autobahn. Gas prices were incredible - several times what it cost at home. I convinced them to drive to Dachau, a nice city with a nasty concentration camp near by. The KZ-Gedenkstätte is huge. I had never realized the scale of these things before. Most of the camp was destroyed at the end of the Second World War, but the foundations of the bunk houses remain, and two were re-built to show what they were like.
We proceeded to Munich where we got lost for a while before finding the youth hostel. I walked around Munich, the same as everywhere else I'd been, but the most impressive thing I saw was the Internet café I found. It didn't charge for the time you were on line, but rather for the food you ate while you were using the computer. I bought a pizza and did my e-mail for about 2 hours.
From Munich I took the train to Austria. As I was walking to the hotel, I met someone Kylah Jackson who was also going there. Since we were both travelling alone and had just arrived, we decided to walk around together. During our walk around town, we climbed one of the towers of St. Stephens, ascending over 300 steps winding around each other before reaching the souvenir shop at the top. We started talking to the guy who ran it, and found out that he was a monk who was quitting because of all of the politics and corruption going on. Ghandi Hana told us some amazing stories about himself, and invited us to go out with him after he got off work. We walked around some more and went to the opera, experiencing a bit of the cheap standing room before heading off to meet Ghandi. He entered the monestary when he was 11 years old, and at 26, he was making up for lost time. He took us out for falafel, to a bar and finally to a nightclub before Kylah and I made our way back to the hostel. The hostel had a curfew, and when we had left to go to the Opera, Kylah had asked if it was very strict - the guy said being an hour late might be ok. It looked, however, like we were going to be more than an hour late, and Kylah got really stressed out and started chewing her fingernails. Ghandi had told us if we missed curfew, we could crash at his place, but when we got to the hostel, they let us in.
The next day we quickly wore out, and lounged around until I had to catch the train to Paris that afternoon.
On the train I met Ganesh Ramachandran who lived in Paris and worked in the telecommunications field. He was a really nice guy and gave me his number so we could maybe go for dinner or something at some point, but unfortunately the timing never worked out.
I had gone to Paris to meet my friend, Sonja Ng, who lives in Toronto. She was in Paris as a companion for her aunt who wished to see Sonja's brother in competition. He is a dance choreographer from Hong Kong, and was there to take part as one of the finalists in a choreograpy contest. I turned 27 while I was in Europe, and thought I'd like to spend it with someone I knew. We walked around and looking at clothes, and visiting a museum of locks and door ornaments before she had to go with her aunt to the competition.
We walked around a bit for the next day, and afterwards I visited the Eifel tower where I climbed the steps to the second level (as far as you could walk - I didn't think the greater expense of the elevator would be worth it). Besides Sonja's company, the Eifel tower was the only thing I really enjoyed in Paris. Somehow I'd never grasped just how huge it is. The rest of Paris is mostly a memory of the pollution, the subways smelling of urine, and the dog poop on the sidewalks. For some reason, the Parisians seem to like large dogs, but as there's nowhere for them to take them, the sidewalks are their bathrooms.
At the hostel I met Paul and Tom. Paul was also going to Italy next, so we decided to go together. The next day we took our packs to the train station and found out that the train we wanted to catch was all booked up, so we booked seats on a later train and wandered around a park until our train was to leave.
In the train we met Eric Swesson, a minister from the states. He said that he found the most beautiful girl in the world while he was in Paris. She worked in a bar near where his hotel was, and he'd go there every day and spend as much time as he could with her. When I remarked that this didn't seem to me like the kind of thing a minister would do, he exclaimed, "I'm on vacation!"
Paul and I eventually arrived in Riomaggiore and were greeted by Mama Rosa (she's there for every train) to lead us to her hostel (the only one in town). Her son who ran the place was rather disgusting, he wore the same clothes the whole time we were there - you could smell him coming. The hostel itself smelled like cats, but I was used to that from a place I lived, in Winnipeg. After the first night, several women who checked in at the same time as I left to go to a hostel in the next town that was cleaner, but had a curfew.
Riomaggiore is part of the "Cinque Terre" - five towns on the Italian Riviera that have a footpath connecting them. It's a beautiful place, and one day I decided to walk from Riomaggiore through Manarola, Corniglia and Vernazza to Monterosso. The walk from Riomaggiore to Manarola, called "Via dell' Amore" is a nice smooth walk, but the closer you get to Monterosso, the more up and down it gets.
Climbing up the steps to Corniglia, I met Laura and Sarah, and we walked together until Vernazza, where I decided I'd had enough walking up and down steps, and going on the hardest trail to Monterosso wouldn't be a great idea. Instead I took the sea bus back to Riomaggiore. The Cinque Terre was one of my favorite stops in my journey. Very relaxed, with lots of nice people. There's a bunch of people I should have taken pictures of, like Dan who recognized the Dobbshead on my shirt, and two Canadian girls (whose names I unfortunately don't remember) who came me to the beach in the dark of night to look at the stars and the fireflies.
One day while I was there, Mama Rosa's son told me that my friend was looking for me. I was unsure whom he meant, but that evening saw that Tom who I met in Paris had followed Paul and me to Italy.
One evening I mentioned that next I was going to Bern, Switzerland, and Paul told me that I should bring lots of matches. When someone asked why I'd want to burn Switzerland, Paul told her that every time those Swiss come to my country they drink Canada Dry.
In Bern I stayed with one of my father's former students, Wolfgang Sturny and his family. When he picked me up from the train station, he commented that there were a lot of flags all over the place, and wasn't sure quite why. He said that maybe they were for me, until he remembered that Castro had come to Switzerland. I had some time to walk around Bern and Luzern before heading toward Eppstein again.
Rüdiger had invited me on a boat trip on the Rhine so I came back for that. The Schwertdle's daughter, Margit was home this time as well, having recently gone through thyroid surgery. She was working on a gag gift that day. One of her friends had gone to a concert of "Guildo and his Orthopedic Socks", and she had made a little Guildo to bring to her friend at a party that night.
In the evening, Rüdiger picked me up for the party, and on the way I started wondering if it was such a great idea - I was going to a party filled with people speaking German, which I can't speak. When we got to the boat, we met Thorston, Christina and Nicole who he had also invited. We smuggled our champagne on board, and I soon realized that I was a lucky man since Nicole wanted to practice her English.
Since the boat ride was at night, I didn't get to see much outside (more interesting to talk to Nicole anyway), so the next day I thought I'd take another boat down the Rhine. I caught a train up to St. Goar and caught a boat back to Bingen then the train to Eppstein. If I were to do it again, I think I'd just skip the boat ride. When I got to St. Goar and climbed up the hill to the castle, I had less than an hour before I had to go back down. It was an impressive ruin that I would have liked to spend more time going through. There was also a medieval recreation group having some activities on the site while I was there, and which made me think about the time I've spent in the SCA. On the boat ride back I sat with Matt and Erin who came from Seattle.
The next day I made my way to Amsterdam. On the train from Frankfurt to Cologne I met an Australian woman who was travelling, and unlike all the other Australians I met on my trip, she hadn't, and was not even planning, to work in London. When they came around looking for tickets, however, they kicked her out of first class. From Cologne to Amsterdam I sat with two guys from Toronto, Charles and Zvi. We got a room together at "The Flying Pig" in Amsterdam, but after the first night, I went to a different hostel. When I came back that night, I saw two guys fighting, with a group of people looking on. The guy that seemed to win, grabbed a t-shirt (I guess the other guy's), dropped his shorts, and urinated all over the shirt. I made my way inside, and was shortly followed by everyone else in the street.
I decided to spend the rest of my time in the cheapest hostel in town, so the next morning I packed up and went to "The Shelter" - a Christian youth hostel in the Red Light district. It was kind of strange having women in windows just down the street from the hostel, but I can't say that I really complained.
I heard that the Anne Franks house was supposed to have long lines, and not that great, so I decided to go to the Museum of Nazi Resistance instead. It was kind of far out, but I managed to get there, only to find out that they were closed. They were moving downtown, and would re-open in January 1999 - what a waste of several hours.
I needed to catch my flight to Israel leaving from Gatwick, so I caught a coach to London the next morning. I talked with two women from Newfoundland (do you get the idea I met more Canadians on my trip than I do in Canada??), Lannette and Janice. Lanette was working as a teacher in London, and when I told her that I was going to put her picture on my web site, she assured me that she would hunt me down and kill me. I love feeling wanted. Janice was on holiday visiting Lanette.
When the bus got to Calais to go through the tunnel, we had quite a time with customs. First, the French got us to take everything off the bus, go through passport control and x-rayed our stuff. They seemed to find something strange about my bag (I think maybe my small tripod looked strange), because they pulled out everything that I had in there, and looked through all my stuff. After the French were done with us, we packed everything back on the bus, and drove to British customs who repeated the procedure with the addition of a dog. When they pulled out our bags for the dog to sniff, I didn't really pay attention, but then the dog grabbed a bag and started ripping it apart. Our collective shock soon dissipated as we realized it was a test bag to make sure the dog was doing his job.
In London I walked from the Victoria Coach Station to a really close hostel, and the next morning I took the train to catch my plane to Israel.
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