Welcome to the Motherland

Arriving in St. Petersburg harbor after an overnight ferry ride from Helsinki, we passed through Russian border control and started the clock on our 72-hour visa-free journey in the Motherland. The St. Peter Line “tour bus” was waiting for us outside the dock, and dropped us off in St. Isaac’s Square. Along the way, we marveled at the Hermitage, Palace Square, and the Peter & Paul Fortress, crossing the Neva River and narrower canals. Architecturally, the city exudes elements of Paris, Amsterdam, and Berlin — grand, imposing buildings with a Western European flare, water crisscrossing the city, and a bit of austerity. We dropped our bags off at the hotel, and took a guided boat tour along the Fontanka and Neva Rivers to orient ourselves and marvel at the city’s top sights from the water. Passing the Winter and Summer Palaces, the Church on Spilled Blood, and St. Isaac’s Cathedral, we were stunned by the city’s beauty, and I was already far more impressed than anticipated.

Following the cruise, we walked along St. Petersburg’s main drag, Nevsky Prospekt, stopped in a delicious bakery, and grabbed savory crepes for lunch at a speedy Russian chain restaurant called Teremok. Showers and a brief nap renewed our energy for the day, and our next stop was the famous Church on Spilled Blood, where Kat and I probably took several hundred photographs since it was so stunningly beautiful. With the possible exception of St. Peter’s Basilica (although the two cannot really be juxtaposed), this was by far the most incredible church I have ever seen. The glittering onion-shaped domes make the exterior shine, and the interior is perhaps even more impressive. Exquisite mosaics line almost every inch of the church, and marble fills the remainder. Moreover, the colored marble iconostasis with glimmering inlaid doors completes the scene, and it’s almost impossible to look away.

While the Church on Spilled Blood isn’t used for Russian Orthodox services, the Kazan Cathedral is a functioning house of worship, and we happened to enter during a service. It was a privilege to listen to the choir sing, smell the incense, and watch priests process through the congregation with the Bible. However, I was mostly struck by the realization that we’re actually in Russia. Although the city itself feels relatively Western, Cryllic script reigns and English is practically non-existent — plus, it’s Russia. After everything we’ve head about resurfacing East-West tensions, not to mention the fact that few, if any, Americans would have dreamed of traveling to Russia when I was born, it’s exciting to have the opportunity to visit and experience the culture for myself. Of course, it’s only a tourist’s, 72-hour view, but suddenly the inaccessible seems manageable, and the enigmatic, somehow familiar.

For a grand finale, we walked to the end of Nevsky Prospekt to preview our day tomorrow at the Hermitage Museum and Peter & Paul Fortress. Leaving the majestic Palace Square, we rode the metro from Admiralteyskaya to Spasskaya (admiring the impressive metro station and it’s depth beneath the city) and ate dinner at a Georgian restaurant near our hotel. It was a delicious introduction to the cuisine, and we tried a few unique treats such as khachapuri (a cheese-filled calzone), satsivi (spicy chicken in a creamy sauce), spiced mixed vegetables, and Georgian meat dumplings. Stuffed to the brim, we exited the restaurant at 10:30pm to find that it was still perfectly light outside — feeling like 5 or 6pm on a standard EDT evening. As we head to sleep now at 12:30am, it’s still a bit light outside, and looks as if the sun has recently set. These are indeed white nights.

More tomorrow from the Hermitage, as we continue to explore this magnificent city.

Santorini beyond its postcard

Santorini commands high expectations. “Stunning” and “idyllic” are common descriptions of the island, and the sunset over Oia features on almost every postcard of the Greek islands. Could it meet this hyped-up praise?

In short, absolutely. Santorini far exceeded its postcard on every level, with geology and architecture juxtaposed to produce the most beautiful landscape I have ever seen. Blue sky meets blue water, while white churches and blue roofs meet volcanic caldera. Oia and Fira boast a labyrinthine of narrow, charming streets along the cliff side, bordered by Mediterranean waves lapping against the coastline below.

Traveling with Nick Cork before our conference in Athens, our first stop was Kamari, a black sand beach on the east side of the island, where we relished in the warmth and sunshine. Afterwards, we headed to Oia, the famous town that lived up to all of its praise. Scouting out the best photo locations, we took panoramas and enjoyed the sunset at the town’s northernmost viewpoint — undoubtedly the most beautiful I have ever seen. Oia is true perfection, with whitewashed houses extending far along the caldera and wrapping around the northern tip of the island. The setting sun gave the buildings a pale orange hue as they faded to darkness against the stunning backdrop of the horizon.

Our second day was perhaps even more enjoyable than the first, and can be summed up in three words: ATV beach hopping. For €20, we rented a four-wheel, 150 cc ATV for the day, and drove around the island wherever we pleased. Should we make a right or a left? No street sign? Doesn’t matter, since it’s impossible to get lost, and sign for the next beach undoubtedly presents itself within a kilometer or two. Somehow we managed to nail our roughly proposed itinerary, which included a church at one of the island’s highest points, red and black sand beaches, and a lighthouse at the very southern tip. Randomly turning off for beaches was a major highlight, which yielded dirt roads carved through interesting geology ending in black sand beaches and idyllic boat marinas. Basically, our day was filled with: ATV driving (exhilarating) — beach relaxation (necessary) — taking a dip in the Mediterranean (refreshing) — repeat (yes, please). When we returned the ATV, neither one of us wanted to leave the island, as another day of beach hopping would have been more than welcome. Alas, we boarded the plane (salty, sandy, and suntan lotion-y) and headed for Athens.

My praise for Santorini, however, would not be complete without mentioning Greek food. After nine months in the UK, my taste buds were in heaven with the onset of Mediterranean cuisine. Highlights included: moussaka, tzatziki with pita, fried cheese (saganaki), gyros, shrimp saganaki with feta cheese and tomato sauce, baklava, baked feta cheese with onion and peppers, and yogurt with honey. Not only is the food delicious, but it’s cheap too — even in touristy Santorini. Heading down a side street or driving down a random road yields €2 gyros, or bacon-wrapped souvlaki with pia bread and tzatziki. Needless to say, we are both excited for continued Greek cuisine at the foot of the Parthenon in Athens.

A Song of Ice and Fire

Iceland — such a well-named country. There is ice everywhere, on sidewalks and trees, and covering the entire landscape. Normal road conditions (partially cleared packed snow) would probably terrify 95% of the world’s drivers.

Arrival on day 1 introduced us to Scandinavian prices — approximately $20 for a sandwich or soup, and much more for a nice main dish at a decent restaurant. We were also blown away by the weather (literally). 35 mph winds led us indoors for much of the day, although we explored the Reykjavik sea front and Harpa concert hall. The Northern Lights tour originally scheduled for this evening was cancelled due to poor weather (snow and total cloud coverage), and rebooked for the following night.

Day 2 began with a full-day Golden Circle tour, beginning with Þingvellir National Park, where the North American and Eurasian plates meet and where the world’s fist parliament was founded. Although it was still freezing outside, there was no wind and the skies were clear, allowing us to walk around rather comfortably and setting the stage for beautiful photographs. Kevin and I joked about how much we had completed before sunrise, including breakfast and even a bit of touring (never mind that the sun rises at 11am and sets at 4pm here in winter).

Our next stop was Gullfoss waterfall, which nearby signs claimed was the most unique in the world. (It doesn’t come close to Niagara.) The most impressive stop was Geysir, a geyser that erupted with boiling water every 5-10 minutes. We stayed and watched for three eruptions before retreating inside a nearby cafe for traditional Icelandic lamb soup, which was hearty yet overpriced ($18). Afterwards, it was a two-hour drive to a lava cave near Reykjavik, a ride which mostly consisted of napping (although we enjoyed the snow-covered countryside, and our guide pointed out Eyjafjallajökull from a distance — the volcano that erupted in 2010 and shut down European airspace for 6 days). Reaching the cave, we crawled into the narrow opening and enjoyed the red walls, icicles, and even the remains of a lamb which wandered into the cave and died there 200 years ago. We sat in total darkness as our guide told us a story of Vikings in the 10th century, laughed as Kevin hit his helmet on a rocky outcropping, and tried not to slip and fall on the icy ground.

After dinner (another “cheap” $25/person meal), we were enthusiastic about the continued clear skies and excellent forecast for our Northern Lights tour. Our experienced guide told us that the activity was rated 4/9 (very promising), and we saw a glimmer of green light up the sky as we drove out to an area of total darkness in a powerful, monster truck-like vehicle. When we reached the site, unfortunately, there were faint remnants of white lights, and the updated forecast said the lights had died down to very low activity — yielding no displays for the rest of the night. Our guide said it was his biggest disappointment this winter, considering how promising the forecast had looked at the outset of our trip.

After waiting for a few hours (inside the vehicle!) with no results, however, we did have a phenomenal experience as our guide offered to take us up a nearby mountain with commanding views of Reykjavik. It turned out to be an off-road adventure, following car tracks through packed snow — a path that had likely been trodden only a few times before and that certainly required a monster truck. At two different points, we barely made it up the steep incline, as the car had no traction on black ice along the way. Our guide managed to get up the mountain after putting the car in reverse and revving up the engine to speedily lurch us forward. The ride was so bumpy that his GPS was knocked off the front windshield, landing in my lap in the front seat. It was an unexpected and exhilarating journey, and did the view did prove to be beautiful. Reaching the top of the mountain also resulted in gale-force winds (or, at least, that’s how seemed to us), so we hopped back inside after taking a few pictures and enjoyed the view from the warm car.

On our final day, we went to Blue Lagoon, a geothermal spa located in a lava field on the Reykjanes Peninsula in southwestern Iceland and one of the country’s most visited attractions. Unsurprisingly, the temperature was freezing cold again, although the winds made it feel much worse than the day before, leading to a very short stay in the pool (which, luckily, is kept at 37-39°C). Although the lagoon is famous for containing silica and sulphur (yes, it smelled a bit like rotten eggs) and for curing skin diseases such as psoriasis, the cold wind was too much to handle, and I was out of the pool within 10-15 minutes. Nevertheless, it was an experience, and the turquoise water was simply beautiful.

While this trip rivals the coldest moments of my life, it was certainly a unique experience in the Arctic Circle. Photos below!

The Historian’s Paradise

Berlin is a history buff’s greatest treasure — the epicenter of world events throughout the 20th century and a city that has undergone unimaginable change since the fall of the Wall in 1989. In parts, the city feels imposing, especially while learning about Nazi rule on the site of Hitler’s former bunker on a foggy, cold day in December. In others, it is representative of big-city Europe and the force for stability in a fiscally turbulent Euro Zone — and just so characteristically German in every way.

We spent our first day in East Berlin on a tour that would have been impossible just 24 years ago. Beginning at Brandenburg Gate (the iconic symbol of Berlin, appearing on Euro cent coins) and Hotel Adlon (where Michael Jackson famously dangled his baby over a railing), we spent 2.5 hours with a fantastic free tour (company: New Berlin) and the most informative, funny, and respectful tour guide we could have asked for. Moving from Pariserplatz (housing many of the Allies’ embassies) to the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, I was struck by Gemany’s intense focus on learning from the Holocaust — building a memorial in the middle of the city to the individuals who they murdered, and hammering the lessons home into students at school. Aside from the Topography of Terror, every museum or memorial focuses on the victims rather than the perpetrators, dealing with history respectfully and objectively while never hiding the past. In fact, our tour guide speculated that there may be increasing backlash from the current generation of schoolchildren who are continuously taught about a guilt for which they themselves were not responsible. Nevertheless, walking through the Memorial is a moving experience, and it is directly in view of the Reichstag (German Parliament) such that current and future leaders will never forget the atrocities of the Holocaust.

Our tour also stopped at Humboldt University and Babelplatz, site of the 1933 Nazi book burning and an underground memorial “library” with enough empty white shelves to house the 20,000 books set on fire that fateful evening. A nearby plaque quotes a German poet from 1820 in terrifyingly prophetic prose: “Where they burn books, at the end they also burn people.” Further WWII sites include the imposing former Nazi Air Defense building (now the Tax Ministry — locals joke this is even scarier), which is the epitome of architecture with the power to intimidate. The entire building is composed of stone with massive iron doors, with door handles placed so high that they come up to eye-level, making you feel small and insignificant in comparison. Finally, we also stopped at the site of Hitler’s former underground bunker where he and Eva Braun committed suicide on April 30, 1945. The site is currently surrounded by apartments and a single sign marks the spot — refusing to hide history while being sure to avoid neo-Nazi activity at the site. We stood where Hitler was burned by his guards, and it was powerful to think of all the history literally beneath our feet.

On a brighter note, our next stop was Gendarmenmarkt, the site of a beautiful and lively Christmas market set between twin churches on the most impressive square in the city. The German and French Cathedrals were beautiful to photograph (especially later at night), and the Christmas tree and mulled wine stalls in the center made the square extra special. We also passed by Checkpoint Charlie, the former army checkpoint between East and West Berlin famous for a face-to-face tank standoff between the U.S. and Soviet Union, and now a kitschy tourist stop where actors dress in army uniforms and pose for pricey pictures. The more interesting piece of Cold War history was a surviving segment of the Berlin Wall — present in a few places around the city and constant reminder of Berlin’s role as a lightning rod for the tension between communism and democracy in the latter half of the 20th century.

After lunch, we spent a few hours in the impressive German History museum on Unter den Linden, an interesting exhibit on Deutschland’s history from early times through the Cold War. This cemented much of the history we had experienced while touring the city, and was like reading a great textbook alongside fascinating treasures from almost all eras of German history. Walking back outside, you realize that Berlin is a constantly changing, ever more rapidly since the fall of the Wall. As our tour guide quoted, “Paris will always be Paris, but Berlin is becoming Berlin.”

On the walk back to our hostel, we strolled through Alexanderplatz and saw the famous TV tower before having dinner at a Vietnamese/pan-Asian restaurant with delicious food but a horrible wait time (as in, 30 minutes before table water arrived). We all collapsed back in the hostel, and began again the following morning at the Reichstag.

Our tour of the German Parliament dome began at 10:30am, and turned out to be one of the trip highlights. The glass dome is striking — towering 75 meters with a circular ramp leading to the top, offering commanding views over Berlin along the way. Led by a fantastic audio guide, we looked out over the Brandenburg Gate, Gendarmenmarkt, and many of the sites we had seen the day before. The entire dome is glass, and floor’s center is also glass, allowing you to look straight into the Parliament chamber, located beneath a tower of mirrors designed to reflect sunlight into the hall.

Ducking the rain, we then headed for sites on Museum Island — most notably, the Pergamon Museum (home to the ancient Pergamon Altar with an impressive frieze depicting Greek gods battling snake-men monsters) and Neues Museum (housing a famous collection of Egyptian art, including a bust of Queen Nefertiti that is over 3,000 years old). In the afternoon, we saw a full surviving section of the Berlin Wall from a sixth-story overlook point, as well as a nearby memorial to those who lost their lives while attempting to cross from East to West.

We were quite tired by this point, but we decided to push on towards the highly rated Topography of Terror museum near Potsdamerplatz. When we stepped out of the metro, however, we found a colorful snow slide in the middle of the square and immediately ditched our plans for a depressing museum in favor of some cheap thrills. Erin and I slid down together and Leah took some great photos, then we headed to a nearby Starbucks for some caffeine and took a look at Brandenburg Gate at night (which was far more spectacular than during the day). We planned out the evening’s dinner at a Mexican restaurant recommended by the hostel and tripadvisor, which was delicious aside from Erin and Kat’s exceedingly spicy enchiladas. It was in a hipster part of town that we never would have explored otherwise, and it was fun to see different areas of the city off the beaten tourist path.

This rounds out our trip! I should also mention our one-night stay in Nuremberg, famous for its Christmas market and quaint sights in the old town, where we stayed the night before heading to Berlin. Mulled wine, roasted nuts, bratwurst, puzzle lady, and the squeaky clean hostel were the highlights here, but Berlin remained the most memorable. Germany is a fun country to visit, and the trip was a phenomenal end to an equally exciting Michaelmas term at Cambridge.

Hiking the Ehrenberg Ruins

Day-tripping into the Austrian countryside was the perfect way to end a Eurotrip. Given the lack of public transportation in the tiny town of Reutte, I went for a 3-hour round-trip hike up to the Ehrenberg castle ruins, soaking in the crisp fall air and clear blue skies in this scenic region of Tirol. The hike turned out to be quite an endeavor, with steep uphill terrain leading to the 13th-century Ehrenberg castle perched atop a mountain overlooking the valley.

This was a hike definitively off the beaten path, and I hardly saw any tourists (and did not meet anyone who spoke English). Buses ran in 3-4 hour intervals, and many stores in Reutte were only open 9am-12pm and 2pm-5pm. This made the experience even more rewarding, as I greatly enjoyed the serenity of the castle ruins even though they were objectively far less impressive than many blockbuster European sights. The view was stunning, and I haven’t breathed such clean air in a long time. There’s not too much of a story to tell — just a nice hike in the woods up to an ancient Austrian castle.

Upon returning to Füssen, I took a train to Freising, the closest town to Munich airport, and will spend one last night in Germany before an early-morning departure to the UK.

Fairy tale land

If Rapunzel were real, she definitely would have been in Neuschwanstein. In fact, any fairy tale character fits perfectly in King Ludwig’s stunning castle situated in the rugged Bavarian mountainside. As the inspiration for Disney’s castle and arguably the most beautiful castle in all of Europe, Neuschwanstein is a sight to behold.

In addition to the castle grounds themselves, the most enjoyable aspect of the castle is its mountainous location and incredible view over the surrounding Bavarian countryside. Standing on Mary’s Bridge, you are suspended hundreds of feet over a giant gorge while overlooking the castle, and an unofficial trail leading higher up the mountain offers even more incredible views of Ludwig’s masterpiece. Immersed in the mountainside, the air is fresh and the scenery is beautiful — not to mention that you simply can’t take your eyes off the castle.

Moreover, Neuschwanstein’s interior matches its extraordinary exterior, even though only one-third of the rooms were ever completed. Most impressive were the throne room (with an enormous, 1-ton chandelier… but no throne), the exquisitely-carved wooden bed frame in Ludwig’s bedroom, and the man-made cave connecting two rooms (the accuracy of stalactites and stalagmites is beyond impressive). In other words, Ludwig literally had a man cave, and is now my hero.

The smaller castle, Hohenschwangau, was less dramatic than Neuschwanstein but also enjoyable, with Ludwig’s favorite swans carved or sculpted in many of the rooms. Its yellow exterior provided a great contrast to Neuschwanstein, which is located higher up across the mountainside.

After visiting both castles, Kevin and I soaked in the sunshine near Lake Alpsee and rented a rowboat for 30 minutes, enjoying the peaceful time out on the water with another great view of both Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau. Our trip to Füssen was definitely worth it for these two castles.

Kevin headed back to the UK this evening (with some nutritious packaged waffles and cold cuts in hand), and I’m hanging around one more day to visit the Ehrenberg Castle ruins in Austria tomorrow before moving into Cambridge on the 26th. Getting very excited to begin life in the UK!

Oktoberfest shenanigans

Think state-school football tailgate on steroids. More beer in larger quantities, and with higher alcohol content, than you’ve ever seen before. Debauchery ensues on every street, every beer garden, and especially on the infamous hill behind the Oktoberfest fairgrounds, a space unofficially designated for those who have had way too much to drink (or who simply can’t make it to the bathroom). It is the epitome of day drinking, the bane of existence for civilized men and women, and the most enormous endeavor in peer pressure invented in the modern world.

Moreover, we arrived just in time for opening day, a Saturday that begins as early as 6am for those seeking a place in the biggest tent for the opening ceremonies. Kevin and I had no interest in foregoing this much sleep, and we headed to the fairgrounds with our German hosts around noon. Kevin had met these Munich locals at a hostel in Vienna, and they were kind enough to let us stay in their dorm for two nights since hostels and hotels quadruple their prices during Oktoberfest as millions of visitors descend upon the city over the course of the 16-day festival. (The dorm is a bit like a hippy co-ed frat house, with all sorts of hilarious posters hung around the common room.)

In the morning, our hosts treated us to a “Bavarian breakfast,” otherwise known as an Oktoberfest pregame. At 10am, the menu consisted of German pretzels, sausage, beer, and sangria, and the alcohol-to-food ratio hovered around 2:1. We also learned to love a hilarious German drinking song that is incredibly catchy and centers on two fascinating subjects that always go hand-in-hand: breasts and potato salad (don’t ask me…). And we were introduced to traditional Bavarian dress worn during Oktoberfest: dirndls for women and lederhosen for men. (If lederhosen weren’t €170, we would’ve joined in the fun and had some fantastic Halloween costumes back in the U.S.)

Kevin and I let our hosts do most of the drinking, but we all polished off the pot of sangria and made it to Oktoberfest around noon. Upon arrival, we were overwhelmed by the sheer size of the event (the world’s largest people fair) and the number of drunk people everywhere. We followed our hosts around the massive fairgrounds, wondering whose brilliant idea it was to juxtapose beer tents and circle rides (aren’t you just asking for vomit everywhere?) while avoiding horse dung and other excrements. Once we reached the Hofbräu-Festzelt tent (the largest at Oktoberfest), the girls in our 10-person group worked their charm with security and got us into the beer garden. (Each tent serves one type of beer from a particular brewery; i.e. Hofbräu-Festzelt serves beer from Hofbräuhaus.) Inside the beer garden, we witness debauchery on a scale Kevin and I had never before experienced.

In order, the events of the day included:
– Random girl comes out of the tent, sits on the ground, and proceeds to vomit everywhere. Her friend comes outside, ostensibly to help her, while carrying her full 1-L jug of beer.
– While waiting in line to enter the tent (which ultimately proved unsuccessful), Kevin nearly faints from lack of glucose (we hadn’t eaten much) and almost gets kicked out by security (who think he is drunk), but is saved by a giant pretzel.
– Girl is trying to run out of the beer garden towards the bathroom, but drunkenly falls on her knees into puke.
– Guy vomits near a table, then we sit at the next one over since it was the only one open in the beer garden. (Cleaning crew later dumps sand on it.)
– At this point, please remember that it’s no later than 2pm.
– Drunkard uses approximately zero brain cells and kicks an apple into the crowd waiting in line, right in front of two ginormous security officers. One proceeds to grab this perpetrator by the back of the neck and literally throws him out.
– Guy smashes his glass beer stein into a giant crate of steins, breaking many of them inside. (Lucky for him, security doesn’t notice.)
– Guy walks on table, gets thrown out.
– Guy pukes near his seat, then others sit down a few minutes later before sand treatment.
– Is a pattern starting to emerge here? This all goes without saying that open container laws simply do not exist.

After spending enough time in the beer garden, we passed by the hill of debauchery, with men and women peeing in the bushes (or just on the grass) when bathroom lines are too long. An older, very drunk man proceeds to fall/slide down the hill in these disgusting bushes. Our German friends describe further incidents that occur on the hill on a regular basis at night…

At this point, one wonders if it’s a good idea to have the German national elections after opening day of Oktoberfest. (Something tells me that the voter turnout in Bavaria might be lower than expected.)

As our hosts attempted to get into more tents, Kevin and I decided to split off around 6pm and head for some real dinner. (Thus far, we only had “breakfast,” pretzels, and a fairly terrible schnitzel sandwich.) We stopped in a church on the way back to the dorm, which proved to be the most fascinating contrast to Oktoberfest. Just outside the fairgrounds, we stepped into another world — after spending so many hours in sheer debauchery, we wondered whether this was real life.

After enjoying some delightfully soothing Japanese ramen (the best counter to heavy Bavarian food and beer), we met up with our hosts at the dorm and marveled at their ability to continue drinking after a full day at Oktoberfest. (Kevin and I viewed the idea of an Oktoberfest after-party with incredulity.) While there, we watched them turn a children’s game into an aggressive drinking game, and witnessed a guy from another section of the dorm pull down his pants in order to convince us that his party would be the most awesome.

Kevin and I were exhausted and headed to sleep early as the others continued until the wee hours of the morning.

The following day, we all took it easy, had a fantastic brunch buffet at a local university cafe with rooftop seating, and walked around the city center to see some of Munich’s highlights. Afterwards, Kevin and I headed back to Oktoberfest briefly, where I took some pictures with my real camera and bought the obligatory souvenir magnet. Remarkably, I also walked straight into the tents — things were still extremely crowded, but the long lines had disappeared. It was fun seeing the inside of the tents, which are even crazier than the beer gardens, and involve substantially more peer pressure directed towards those willing to take up the challenge of chugging a 1-L beer in one go. Two people accomplished this in the few minutes I was there, and it was all quite entertaining.

Finally, Kevin and I headed back to the church we had visited the previous day and climbed the stairs to its bell tower for a commanding view over the Oktoberfest fairgrounds. Here is where you can really appreciate the insane number of people at the festival. (The photos below will tell the story best.)

Needless to say, Oktoberfest was an experience. Kevin and I were there for exactly that reason — to witness the craziness as tourists and the insanity that has descended upon Munich each and every year since 1810.

Blue skies and turquoise waters

Lake Bled, a 45-minute drive from Ljubljana, has some of the most incredible, serene, and quaint scenery I’ve ever seen, and was a great way to cap off a wonderful two-week vacation with my parents.

Upon arrival, we walked the 3.5-mile circumference of the lake, stopping every few feet for pictures as the scenery changed. Bled Castle, a quaint church, the Julian Alps, and a small island in the center of the lake dominated the scenery, not to mention the beautiful turquoise water of the lake and traditional pletna boats ferrying passengers back and forth from the central island.

During our walk around the perimeter, we stopped in Vila Bled, a hotel which was Tito’s former summer residence during the heyday of Yugoslavia. The hotel receptionists were nice enough to let us poke around the main area of the hotel and see the impressive Socialist Realist wall murals which depicted the propaganda of the time, alongside Tito’s desk, phone, and chair.

After making our way around the lake, we hopped on one of the pletna boats to the central island (“Otok”). There were about 16 passengers on the flat-bottom boat, rowed in a fashion that can best be comped to Venetian gondolas. Once on the island, we had 30 minutes to explore, so we entered the church, rang the bell, and walked around the exterior until the boat was loaded back up with passengers.

Finally, we had dinner at a restaurant near the lake and went to Hotel Park for dessert — home of the original, famous cream cake called kremna rezina, the town’s specialty. We had had a very similar cake in Rovinj, but that was no match for this delicious treat. (It reminded me of pastel de nata from Pastéis de Belém in Lisbon, although that egg tart still remains the best dessert the world has ever created.)

We got back to the apartment around 9pm (this time after a straightforward drive along major highways — no switchbacks, thank goodness) and packed up for our next destinations. My parents are headed to Amsterdam for their two-day finale, while I’m off to Munich to meet up with Kevin for Oktoberfest. It was nice traveling with my parents, and I really enjoyed spending time with them before settling down in the UK.

Onwards and forwards, to Germany!

A white-knuckle ride through the Julian Alps

Nauseating hairpin turns were the price to pay for incredible views in amongst the Julian Alps. (Anyone who knows me well knows that I hate circles, but this time it was worth it.)

After 24 switchbacks, we reached the summit of Vršič Pass in Triglav National Park at an altitude of 1611 meters — stunning scenery, complete with strong winds, 5°C temperatures, and a few sheep hanging out at the top. We stopped at a number of places along the way, including the world’s biggest ski jump (in Planica, near the Italian border), a small Russian Orthodox chapel, and viewpoints nestled in the Alps.

26 more switchbacks down the mountain led us into the Soča River Valley, terrain which made up the Soča Front of WWI and saw some of the fiercest fighting between Italy and Austria-Hungary. It’s hard to believe that this peaceful region with crystal clear rivers spanned by wooden suspension bridges and dotted with small towns once saw 300,000 deaths, 700,000 wounded, and 100,000 MIA soldiers during the WWI. (Statistics courtesy of the Kobarid WWI museum which we visited along the way, a modest and unbiased display of the events in the region with some really interesting WWI guns, shells, uniforms, documents, gas masks, and other items.) On a similar note, this region is famous because of Ernest Hemingway, who wrote A Farewell to Arms about the battles that occurred here.

Also thank goodness for the magical iPhone-friendly water flowing in the Soča River, since I managed to drop mine in the river for a good 5 seconds with no harm done…

After visiting the museum, we were also starving and grabbed dinner at a restaurant in Kobarid, still nestled in the mountainous region and at least 2 hours away from Ljubljana. By the time we finished eating, it was nearly dark and we followed the GPS along the “shortest route” back to the apartment, which involved approximately zero highways and 30 miles of white-knuckle driving. Thanks to dad, we made it home safely, but the switchbacks here were far worse than our daylight ascent up Vršič Pass — “two-lane” roads were hardly built for one car, let alone two, and the guardrails would often jut out into the road and cut off half of the already treacherous passage. (Behind these guardrails were steep drop-offs, rivers, etc.) Good job driving, dad!

Traveling is always an adventure, albeit more nerve-wracking at some times than others. Nevertheless, the Julian Alps were gorgeous and worth every nail bitten off during the ride.

Ljubljana: The city of dragons

Legend has it that a fearsome dragon lived outside the walls of Ljubljana in ancient times, requiring one victim per day to spare the city from being burnt to the ground. Eventually, some proud knight came to save the people and slayed the dragon, which remains a symbol of the city — on its flag, license plates, bridges, souvenir T-shirts, and everything in between.

Upon arrival in Ljubljana (pronounced lyoob-lee-AH-nah), we headed for the city center and joined an excellent 2-hour walking tour that led us up to the castle and back to the main square, covering most of the major sites in this relatively small city. We crossed over the Dragon Bridge, tried to make sense of some very strange statues of Adam and Eve, ate traditional Slovenian sausage and dessert pastries, and enjoyed commanding views over Ljubljana and the Julian Alps. Our tour guide was fantastic and provided us with some interesting Slovenian history, but otherwise there’s not really a lot to see in the city. Since it was cold, we went to dinner shortly after the end of the tour, and shared a platter of other traditional meats and veggies. (In general, the food is pretty good, but also quite heavy.)

Three more brief notes:

– Ljubljana is currently hosting the “Euro Basket” (European basketball championship), so the games are constantly on the TVs and the city is packed with fans from all over Europe. (Although you wouldn’t really be able to tell when walking around the old city center.)
– Pseudo-unisex bathrooms appear to be more of a thing in Eastern Europe. Many times the men’s and women’s bathrooms are somewhat combined, and one even just had a sheet between a urinal and common sink. Probably makes sense and is more efficient, but still something to get used to.
– The roofed hayrack is distinctly Slovenian, and they’re everywhere along the roads. Since it rains frequently, they allow hay to dry thoroughly, and now they’ve even been adopted as highway sound barriers and billboards.