The Monk City

Who knew that "München" actually means "monk" in German? I definitely didn't.

I started feeling a bit apprehensive the morning I was due to leave for Munich. If there's one thing I fear in life, it's loneliness. The thought of traveling alone for the first time was somewhat intimidating, but I figured a city in Germany was as good a place to take the plunge as any other city in Europe.

No regrets.

I met great people and spent most of my time hanging out with these new-found friends in the beer halls that Munich is famous for. I had one of the best meals - roasted veal with Swabian noodles - in Augustiner Bierhalle; Hofbräuhaus is as jolly, as festive and as loud as it gets. Pot-bellied, full-bearded Germans were all decked out in their lederhosen, knocking back litre maß of beers and chowing down on massive brez'n (pretzels), while jamming to traditional Bavarian music.

Brothers Greg and Brett whom I met on the Free Tour and hung out together after

I still cannot get over how tasty European beers are - and I have absolutely no idea how I'd be able to go back to North American crap wen I get back to Canada. But that'll be something to worry about when I head back. For now, prost!

The Glockenspiel - voted the second most over-rated tourist attraction in Europe, after the Astronomical Clock in Prague

The skyline of Munich from Peterskirche (St. Peter's Church)
- Climbing up the 302 narrow steps after our Hofbräuhaus visit was, in Greg's words, "Super-scheißen"-

Paris, je t'aime

Thank goodness I refused to heed my parents' advice of skipping this trip when I was down and out for the past week with bronchitis:

(1) I had paid more than I intended for plane tickets. There's no way in hell that I'd be forfeiting my tickets after the fortune I shelled out;

(2) Wallow in self-pity, and feel absolutely miserable and lonely in a deserted dorm where all my friends have already left for home vs. coughing my lungs out in Paris.

There was no question about it. I was determine to head to Paris even if I have to leave behind a lung.

Paris is...indescribable in words. Every sight I saw - the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Château de Versailles - gave me goosebumps - and it wasn't because it was -6°C and all the fountains and even the Grand Canal of the Château de Versailles was frozen solid. Nope, it was because I was so awe-struck by these wonderful pieces of architecture. Architectures that I have read in books, seen in movies, all looming majestically in front of my very eyes.

There's nothing like watching the crazy dancing lights come on the Eiffel Tower when the clock strikes the hour. The collective gasps of delight that rippled through the throngs of tourists is something you have to be there to experience.

The Sister (whom, by the way, has finally updated her blog) had warned me beforehand that three days in Paris wouldn't be enough. She was right. And just because I'm her self-proclaimed #1 fan when it comes to her writing and photography, below is an excerpt from an e-mail Swan wrote to the family three years ago when she was in Paris:

“

Paris is gorgeous. I was walking to my hostel at night and the Eiffel Tower loomed closer and closer as I followed the Seine. Suddenly, I turned a corner and there it was.There’s really nothing quite like it. I remember how prettier it was the closer I was. I was lucky enough to be at the bottom of the tower right at the hour when the lights came on, turning the tower into a huge Christmas tree. I will remember the collective gasp from the people who saw it, followed by the smiles and wonder reflected in their eyes. Beautiful. I took my time exploring the city. One of the joys of solo traveling. As I approached the Arc De Triomphe, instead of making a beeline towards the center, I instead took a step back and spent 10 minutes trying to figure out how the traffic works. It’s really interesting. The way I learnt in driving school is definitely different than the way the French does it there. Cars in the roundabout give way to traffic approaching the circle; but the system works regardless. Another one of those situations where you don’t knock it until you’ve tried it! I became an expert at crossing the roads. It’s a game of chicken. Who dareth wins. You just stare death in the face and start walking. I walked the 374 damn stairs and more to get to the second level of the Eiffel Tower. That was 5:30pm. The sunset was at 7:20, so I had a lot of time on my hands. I really did not mind the wait though. From that vantage point I could see how big Paris is. I was standing by the North Tower, trying to pinpoint where I’d walked that day. Let’s just say I averaged 8 miles a day on foot. While staking out the sunset, I saw this lady in a wheelchair roll herself up to the side of the tower, and slowly pulled herself up and out of the chair so that she could see over the railing. That was a very touching moment, to see her face transform out into a soft smile as she caught sight of the hues of red and orange in the horizon. ... And finally, the food! Never had I experienced such good food! Food made with love. Food that stimulates every single taste bud in your mouth. Crepes, baguettes, ice-cream (I'd sell my first child for more ice-cream!) Cheap wine! Great cafes. Now, this is where the French people definitely know how to enjoy life. Order a petit latte, sit and watch the rest of the world go by. It was a rude awakening when I came upon Starbuck’s by the Opera House. Let’s just say that it was an in-your-face moment. It was so … gaudy in comparison to the rest of the architecture around it.

”

The (entrance to the) Louvre.

For now, it's au revoir, Paris. It's a crash back to reality in a dusty room and empty hallways for the next...16 hours. Swan boards the plane in five hours and I'm counting down!

The front and back of Notre Dame de Paris

A shot of the Louvre from Jardin des Tuileries

La Grande Roue - Place de la Concorde, where the guillotine once stood

"Vélib" bicycles for rent line the streets of Paris

Sunrise at le Square de l'île-de-France

I Heart London

Me: Ookay, I think this is London Bridge.
Ky: What? You mean, the London Bridge ?! Really ?
Me: Er...yeah. Kinda a letdown, innit ?
Ky: I thought it'll be something more than...this !

Fergie, from the Black Eyed Peas, has misled half the world into thinking London Bridge looks like this; I really hope she didn't actually think that Tower Bridge is London Bridge when she filmed her "London Bridge" video.

It is rather disappointing to see this totally plain bridge being the centre piece of the "London Bridge is Falling Down" game I used to play when I was younger. At least I now understand why there exists such a nursery rhyme: This poor architecture has had endured tornados, fires, and collapses throughout its 2,000 year history. The one that's currently standing, ladies and gentlemen, is version 6.0.Random Fact #1: American entrepreneur Robert McCullough paid a whopping USD$2.46 million to disassemble, ship [to the States] and reassemble Old London Bridge in Lake Havasu City, Arizona. One popular rumour says that when McCullough made the purchase, he thought he was buying the more impressive Tower Bridge.
Random Fact #2: English drive on the left side of the road, which is also the correct side (and to this, I agree). There exists one road in London where Londoners drive on the wrong side of the road - that is the right side.
On a side note, had it not been the "LOOK RIGHT" and "LOOK LEFT" cautions on the ground, I probably would've been killed by now. Honestly, who came up with the bloody idea to drive on the right side of the road?

Random Fact #3: Walking around London, one will be curious to know why the buildings don't look old, considering the fact that England has a loooong history. All buildings in London have been destroyed and rebuilt at least once - due to the Great Fire of London; most are version 3.0 though.

Random Fact #4: Streets in London are named after the primary business of the shops lining the streets. For example:Pudding Lane :
Bakeries - Although, according to chronicler John Stow, it's named after "puddings" (medieval word for entrails and organs) falling from carts coming down the Lane from butchers - headed for the dumping site that is the River Thames

Wellington Street :
Boot makers and shoemakers
Threadneedle Street :
Originally named Gropecunt Lane. No explanation needed here.
I have never appreciated the English language as much as I had this weekend. It's refreshing to understand people and have them understand me in return. The weather was warm; wet, on occasion, but this is after all, England. Try living in Malaysia where I endure what I call "Sampan Days" every day of summer - flash floods happen when there's rain in my city - I'll take the random torrential downpour of England any day.

I've never felt more reluctant to return to Prague.

Really, with a view like this from where I was staying, who wants
to go back to the dusty shit-hole I live in anyway?

The London Eye and the Houses of Parliament

St. James Park with the cannibalistic pigeon-eating pelicans

I think I accidentally stumbled into the Lord of the Rings set.

- Changing of the Guards, at Buckingham Palace and the House of Guards -

Blown Away by Berlin

Literally and figuratively. What a fascinating city.

We decided, once again, to road-trip it to Berlin instead of taking the bus. With nine people this time, there was no way we could all fit into Paul's car. Hence, four of us rented a wee Škoda Auto for €100. It's unnerving to power through the Autobahn with its unlimited speed limit in a Czech-made car that translates into "Damage Car". But with three guys and a truck stuffed full with luggage, I barely felt the speed of 160 km/h.

It was a wintry Friday morning when we set off into the heart of the city. We've all heard good reviews about the free walking tour offered by Sandemans New Europe and decided to check it out. Our guide was a contemporary dancer who used to study Math and Physics in Columbia University. His enthusiasm and excitement was contagious. His guided tour, brilliantly done. In fact, it was so good that a friend and I decided to join the Cold War Tour the following day - this time, by an incredibly knowledgeable Englishman.

Most people connect Germany's turbulent history to Hitler and the Nazis. But when one thinks of Berlin, the Berlin Wall comes to mind. I cannot imagine the devastation of being separated overnight from your loved ones by barb wire and fierce gun-toting guards.

“

On August 13, 1961, Berlin was cut in two by a concrete wall. The purpose of the wall: to hinder the people of socialist East Germany from fleeing into the normal world. The wall was constantly perfected and strengthened, transformed from a normal wall into a system of impassable technical hindrances of traps, elaborate signals, concrete shooting cells, watchtowers, anti-tank tetrahedrons, “hedgehogs” and self-firing guns, which killed the fugitives without the intervention of the border guards. But the more work, ingenuity, money and steel the communists allocated to the further development of the wall, the clearer it became: human beings can be kept in a totalitarianist society only by impenetrable obstructions, barbed wire, dogs and by shooting in the back. The wall meant that the system which the totalitarians had built attracted no-one. It repelled.

”

The death strip in between the Berlin Wall(s). The Communist Regime gave explicit orders to shoot and kill attempted defectors. Here, you can see the (now crushed) electric box standing in the middle of the strip.

"In rural Germany, two men dressed up as a cow - one the head, the other, the ass - and successfully mooed their way across to the west."

- One of the many escape stories told to us by Patrick, our tour guide -

Various graffiti on the Berlin Wall

A quick pitstop in Dresden en route to Prague

Yay Arsen...I mean, Slavia Praha!!!

I started watching football when I was nine. Dad was (still is) a supporter of Manchester United, and I followed suit. Sir Alex Ferguson had a brilliant team back then. I still remember being enthralled by the outstanding partnership formed between strikers Andy Cole and Dwight Yorke. The other reason, obviously, was David Beckham. He was quite the hottie.

"Football Brothers" Andy Cole & Dwight Yorke with yummy-lookin' David Beckham

Manchester United still has some excellent footie going on even after the great team of the late 90's was no more. Likewise with the boys.

Hello there, boys.  Cristiano Ronaldo & Alan Smith

Anyway, the Slavia Praha - Arsenal FC match was to be my very first experience watching live football, and the weather was atrocious. The first half of the match was just occasional spitting every ten minutes. Just as the whistle blew for half-time, it became this torrential, pouring rain - the kind where if you're out in the open for five seconds, you'd be drenched to the core.

I was having this Which-Team-Do-I-Support Crisis. Here I was, all decked out in red and white in support of Slavia. After all, Prague is home for the next six months and it's a home game. On the other hand, having grown up watching the English Premiere League, I know Arsenal better than I know the home team. Red and white happen to be Arsenal's team colours too.

(The odds of Slavia dominating the match was slim since Arsenal had trashed Slavia 7-0 two weeks prior. It's more fun to support the winning team, but I digress...)

I decided that the best thing to do was to cheer (and jeer) for both teams. In Mandarin. That way, the locals won't be able to figure out what I was yelling. There were some exciting moments and a couple of close calls here and there. But the game ended in a goalless draw - and it was to be Arsenal's first failure to score in the season. One goal. I wanted only one goal.

I squelched home that night, soaking wet and feeling just that little bit discontented.

Whirlwind Wien

I've made it a point to try traditional / typical dish(es) of every European country I visit. I specify "European" countries only because there are some bizarre foods out there in Asia that I absolutely refuse to eat. Fried cricket, for instance. Or the heart of a snake.

The traditional dish for Vienna is the Wiener Schnitzel and the description reads like this: "a cutlet of veal that is pounded flat, coated in flour, egg and breadcrumbs, and fried in clarified butter." Sounds a bit sketchy if you ask me. Nor does it sound fancy or appetizing, like the Salzburger Nockerl. But we all know my experience with the Salzburger Nockerl.

I love the Wiener Schnitzel. In fact, I liked everything about Vienna - aside from the biting wind, that is. The looming winter season and the bitter cold will be something I have to acclimate to. And fast. I will also have to get used to those unbelievably petite cups of coffee served in European cafés.

Wiener kaffeehaus (Viennese cafés) have an incredibly long and distinguished history that dates back centuries. These establishments have been havens for artists, musicians, writers and thinkers. And unlike cafés in Prague where you risk your coffee cup being whisked away if it's 3/4 empty, customers can linger for hours. Toting my trusty Let's Go Europe guide, I scoured the streets of Vienna for a well-known kaffeehaus: Café Hawelka. The mélange (coffee with frothy milk - much like the latté) is out of the world. It was just too bad they only serve their speciality, Buchteln (cake with plum marmalade), in the evenings.

Certain buildings and specifically, the sculptures featured in the Great Parterre - the garden behind the Schönbrunn Palace - gave me a taste of what it would be like to travel to Athens and Rome: two places that I must visit before I fly back to Canada.

The Gloriette at Schönbrunn

Statues line the Great Parterre at equal distances and are allegories of different gods and virtues.

Vienna Sightseeing Tours did a great job of introducing the city and its history to us. I only wished I had more time in Vienna to mosey around on my own.

Kunsthistorisches Museum (Museum of Art History)

Reflection of the old on the new

The Hills are Aliiiive...

It was bitterly cold and windy in Vienna. My teeth was chattering so hard it was rattling my brain. I couldn't quite process what the representative from Vienna Sightseeing Tours was trying to say to us, but readily agreed to my parents' plan of heading to Salzburg for a day-trip.

The three hour drive to Salzburg was a winter wonderland since it had snowed three days before our arrival in Austria. We were kept entertained by the stories told to us by our wonderfully funny and knowledgeable tour guide. The rare and occasional silence was punctuated with the clicking of digital cameras taking pictures of the scenery as we whizzed by.

Salzburg is this gorgeous quaint little town, dominated by baroque towers and churches, as well as Festung Hohensalzburg (literally "High Salzburg Fortress" in German). For the rest of the day, I had "Do-Re-Mi" replaying over and over like a broken record in my head as settings and sites used for The Sound of Music were pointed out to us.
Indeed, I used to associate Salzburg with the film along with famous classical music composer, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. But now, when I think of Salzburg, I think of Salzburger Nockerl, a traditional soufflé-like Austrian meringue dessert. Sounds amazingly delicious. We thought so too. Mom even skipped lunch just to have enough space to stomach this massive (made for) 3 - 5 people dessert. Hey, if we have to pay €10.90 and wait 20 minutes for dessert, we were making damn sure that the dish is licked clean at the end of our dessert break.

My initial, untouched portion of the Salburger Nockerl

Our anticipation and excitement for this traditional dessert wavered when the chef carelessly spooned up and plop the dessert onto our plates. It went down with a splat and wobbled. We doubtfully poked and prodded this...thing.

I took a bite; it had a texture that was almost cotton-candy-like: fluffy and light. Yet, it was gooey and creamy at the same time. It also tasted very much like uncooked egg whites. Bleurgh! I don't care about the rave reviews this dessert has received. All lies. This, is officially the worst dessert I've ever eaten. Needless to say, there was tons of leftovers. Good thing I had already excused myself from the table by the time the server came out to collect the plates while shooting the 'rents disapproving looks.

Give me cheesecake or medovník anytime, thanks.

Baroque architectures line the Salzach river.

Festung Hohensalzburg stands majestically in the background

Busy shopping street Getreidegasse. 
All buildings on this street feature wrought-iron guild signs over their stores.

Blundering Around Bratislava

Bratislava is the only national capital that borders two countries - Austria and Hungary. It was also the perfect pit stop for us during the long drive back to Prague.

In all honesty though, I was disappointed. But it's rather unfair now that I tend to compare all European cities to Prague - and this is one steep scale to compete with. Looking through the pictures I took of Bratislava, it is a pretty city.

The Europeans do so love their castles
- Bratislavský hrad (Bratislava Castle) -

..and their bridges
- Nový Most (New Bridge) and the Petržalka borough from the Bratislava Castle -

Yep, no question about it. I still like Prague more and am glad to be able to call it "home" for the next six months.

From the City of Spires to the City of Spas

Hungary, here we come!

- The mythical Turul statue by the entrance gates of Budai Vár -

Having spent three straight weekends here in Prague while friends raved about their travels to neighbouring countries, I decided I needed to get away once I get my passport back. The plan, when it was first proposed to me, was that we'd road-trip it to Budapest since Paul has a car. It would have been three Swiss, one German - all boys - and me. Years after I've graduated from high school, I have somehow managed to retain my status as "one of the guys" - an affectionate term bestowed to me by my (mostly) guy friends from home.

I recruited fellow UVic-er and partner-in-crime, Paula, into the gang when Marcel had to pull out at the last minute. And we were off!

The Search for the DunaRush-hour traffic greeted us by the time we hit downtown Buda. We also had no idea how to get to Pest, the location of our hostel. All we knew was that we had to find the Duna (Danube River), and go from there.

Paul stuck his hand out the window and said, "The wind is coming from that way. This indicates that the river is...there. We head there." Err...OK. There wasn't much room for argument since he was the driver. Ten minutes later, we were still looking for the river. It didn't help that the Hungarian language has nothing in common to German, English, or Czech. Nothing on the road signs made sense. We decided on the next best thing: yell for directions at this poor pedestrian waiting for the trams by the lights...

Ah! Spa

One of the outdoor (heated) pools at Széchenyi

Still wired from the car ride, we voted to head to the Széchenyi spa - one of Europe's largest bathing complex - for a relaxing dip before dinner. Oh. My. Gosh. For a mere USD$8.50, there are 12 thermal pools and 3 swimming pools within the complex - and you can stay for as long as you'd like. H-E-A-V-E-N. Is all I can say.

The TouristToting the snack pack provided to us by our hostel, we proceeded to explore the city, mostly by foot, the very next day.

The Országház (Hungarian Parliament Building)

The Shoes on the Danube Promenade

Széchenyi lánchíd (Széchenyi Chain Bridge) connecting Buda and Pest

Peeping through Halászbástya (Fisherman's Bastion)

Our feet were so sore by the end of the day. What better way to bid goodbye to Budapest than head to yet another spa? I could get used to the life of a Hungarian.