The Octopus Breakfast, French Mosquitoes and The Constant Roommate

Paris is expensive. I'm embarassed to say I paid nine euros for a bottle of Guinness at a cafe outside the Louvre and heard the hundreds of Irishmen turning in their graves in disgust. After sharing a 13 euro croque madame and salde verte we decided to take back the extra euro we'd generously left as a tip when the waitress took away Morgan's pint glass with more than a mouthful of over priced Stella still left in it. That would be the only meal we ate out while in Paris. Instead we vied for a .50 cent baguette, a three euro wheel of cheese and a two euro bottle of Bordeaux and a trip to the corner pastisserie where we'd splurge and buy a grande tarte fraise. I'm sad to say we didn't eat a Parisian croissant, but filled up on Parisianne Korean food instead.

Trying to avoid the oodles of money that can be spent in Paris, we thought we had scored big when we found the Namdemun guesthouse. Past guests said it was your home-away-from-home, and it literally was. Every morning at 7:30 am we were woken by our Korean mother calling us for breakfast. We had the choice of a Korean option or French (baguette and jam). Curious to see what exactly a Korean breakfast entailed, we quickly decided we'd go French the next day when we saw the miniture kimchi octopus. For 23 euros a night we'd get breakfast and dinner (Korean only). We highly recommend Namdemun for it's atmosphere and more than kind staff, but the beds . Sitting on the outskirts of the city, and a bit tough to find, you'll know you've found it when you see the Korean flag hanging in the upstairs window. Have a pen handy as you can write a thank you message on the walls before you leave. I think the only thing we left on the walls were splattered mosquitoes.

I don't know too much about mosquitoes, and I only really associate them with summertime camping and warm, wet weather. It would then be extrememly odd to think that for the past month we have been bitten by mosquitoes more than we had back in Canada. Over breakfast one morning in our Parisian guesthouse, I shared the massive lumpy red bumps that had taken over my arms with the table. Constant, Briak (a local digital-art Frenchman who had been travelling in Australia and was now back home looking for work, and also someone who must one-up you on everything you say because he's been to Australia where he has seen otherwise therefore "c'est impossible") said it wasn't possible that it would be mosquitoes and it would most probably be spiders bitting me. His only reasoning being that it was not the time of year for mosquitoes and he'd seen spiders around the guesthouse. Thanks Braik, tell that to the two mosquitoes that now only exist as smears on the ceiling above my bunk in Antwerp, Belgium, and tell that to the mosquito I've seen buzzing around the Namdemun bathrooms. Thankfully Natalie, another French guest living at Namdemun while looking for employment, saved Briak from near stanglation by showing him the massive bite she wore on her eyelid. I could hear the hated buzzer marking an incorrect answer sound somewhere as Briak's ego finally fell and the mosquitoes were victorious.

Namdemun was a fantastic spot if you plan on staying a while in Paris. Unfortunately it does only have one washroom, which could have made for big problems had Morgan and I both gotten sick at the same time. Separated by two nights, Morgan and I battled what we first thought to be a bad patè, but was more likely some sort of alien flu, suggested Briak. I elegantly introduced myself to Namdemun by throwing-up in my bed (it was actually my make-shift, supermarket laundry bag that had a hole in the bottom that put it in my bed). The ladies were nice enough to clean out my bed. Morgan would be sick two days later, so I hate to say it, but Briak can have that round.

Merci/Kamsahamnida, Seung-hee and the ladies of Namdemun.

Ps: On the train to Spain we met a couple of Australian lads who were on a month Eurail pass. They had failed to write out the date on their pass when showing the train attendants their tickets and were fined 10 euros for the error.

The Limey

Eurail Pass - Is It Worth It? Update

First off, happy birthday Kate for November 16th !!

Second, I'd like to provide an update regarding our Eurail pass.  With one month down and one month to go on it, we've  gotten the value out of it already and then some.  That's including the supplements, the extra non-optional charges for mandatory reservations and for sleeping cars.  We have a first class Eurail as we're both unable to get a second class pass being over 25 years old, but for the sake of this exercise we've used second class pricing to figure value because that's how we would normaly have travelled.  We've been able to avoid some supplements by sitting second class with the first class ticket. 

The Eurail's enabled us to travel to a lot of places we may not have otherwise, and it's given us options when we've encountered problems like:  Linds and I,"Paris!".  Milan agent,"Nope, there's a stike in France.".  Us,"Barcelona!!".  Agent,"Nope, have to go though France."  After conferring with the map, "Prague!!".  An 18€ supplement later and we had a night train to Prague via Munich and Verona.  We've travelled through 10 countries already in mainland Europe and been able to chase good weather.  We've travelled very comfortably in first and even second class, aside from some couchette night trains.  We haven't spent a lot of time in a few of the cities we've been to, but we've figured out how to make the most of what time we've had.  We've resided in the fact that we can't see it all; there's just too much to see in two months and not enough money to see all of Europe.  You could blow an entire lottery fortune here and still not see it all. 

With an initial cost of 2027€ (986€x2+20 ins+35 s&h), plus supplements 230.40€, gives us a total cost of 2257.40€ for the Eurail Global Pass (two months continuous) .  Having done 2816€ worth of second class travelling gives us a surplus of 558.60€ with a month left to gain more value on top.  The question I'd have if considering buying the Eurail is what do I want to see?  If you know exactly what  you want to see, and maybe your travels are not as far flung as ours have been, there are other passes that are less expensive and more centralized.

Flights in Europe all also a cheap way to get around however they ding you if you have a lot of luggage or a rucksack.  If available, it advantagous to book your large bags ahead of time because it's cheaper than just showing up with your large luggage and paying before you hop on a plane.  Airports are also not as convienent nor centrally located as train stations.  Airports usally require a train to get you to your eventual location.  Every city we've visited has had a train station in the middle of the city that's been close to accomodation, metro, and sightseeing.  You can show up 10 minutes before a train and get right on, Spain being the only country so far with security checks similar to flights, but they only took  a couple of minutes to navigate.  Airports require you to arrive 1-3 hours before departure, sometimes this extra time in itself takes the advantage, time wise, away from flying over training.

All in all, we've really enjoyed our train travel in Europe.  It's been a relaxing way to travel, convienient, and time saving.  I'd definitely recommend it for this kind of travel.  The Eurail pass is expensive, but worth it if you want to see a lot of Europe and to keep your options whilst in Europe open.

If anyone is thinking of or knows anyone else that's thinking of getting an Eurail pass don't hesitate to ask any more specific questions. 

The Yank

The Paris High Five

The Paris Catacombs are a maze of tunnels and crypts underneath the city streets where Parisians placed the bones of their dead for almost 30 years. In 1780, Paris's largest cemetary was closed for public-health reasons at the request of local residents. It turns out that people living near the Cimetiere des Saints-Innocents, located in the Les Halles district, were getting sick. Improper burial methods of decaying bodies led to water seepage and contamination of the water spreading disease. Thus, the catacombs of Paris were created at the end of the 18th century to serve as an ossuary. The quarries continued to be used as the collection point for the bones from Paris’ cemeteries through 1814 and now contain the bodies of roughly 6-7 million Parisians. Even before the last bones were moved in 1814 the underground crypt was a visitor attraction even being used as a mini-concert hall in the last 1800's.

In the north of downtown Paris sits on the hill of Montmarte, ( the name deriving from Mount of Martyrs or from Mount of Mars), 130 metres high. It is famous for being the highest point in the area and for the white-domed Sacre-Coeur Basilica at the top, a monument that stands in stark contrast next to the mostly Romanesque, French architecture. From the top of the Dome, there is a panoramic view in all directions extending over 30 kilometers.  Even with the extrememly polluted air of Paris, the building has been able to retain it's pristine white appearance since its construction because of the Chateau-Landon stones which were used for the construction of the Sacre-Coeur. The stones secrete calcite when it rains having a natural bleaching effect.

On the first Sunday of every month enterance into the Louvre is free. Seeing the scarily long line that looked as though it could easily take hours, we hesitantly joined the cue. In line we met a couple of ladies from New Jersey. We talked about our two year trip and one lady reminised about her Europe travel in 1971 that cost her merely $600 for one month of travel. She hitch-hiked herself everywhere; there was no Eurail pass back then. It was funny to found out that she too had lived off the same grocery list as us: bread, cheese, peanut butter and water. As for the Louvre itself, it was a place to see the famed Mona Lisa and to witness the largest collection of art in the world. The Mona Lisa was easily the saddest piece in the place and we were much more impressed by the collassel findings from the Palace of Darius in Iran. 

The famed Arc de Triomphe was erected by the Emperor Napoleon in 1806 to commemorate France's military prowess, the Arc de Triomphe crowns the west end of the prestigious Champs-Elysees at the star shaped juncture known at the Etoile where 12 avenues radiate from it. (In Greek mythology, the Champs Elysees are the places where heroes stay after death). We behaved ourselves and bought only one item on arguably the most expensive shopping strip in the world. It was a 6.50 euro Crepes-creamcone.

 

We visited the Eiffel Tower at night and took the cheaper route (four euros) or the most expensive staircase ever. Here's some interesting facts we found out about the tower:

• The Eiffel tower is 320 meters high and weighs 7000 tons. It has 1710 steps. The  first floor is at 57 meters and 360 steps from the ground, the second at 115 meters and 1060 steps from the ground. The third floor at 274 meters from the ground is only reachable by lift.
  
• The Eiffel Tower shrinks too when it gets cold. It shrinks six inches in fact.
• It took only one year and a month to build the Eiffel Tower. (Aprill 1888 - May 1889).
• Protecting the Effel Tower from rust takes 50 gallons of paint every seven years.
• The Eiffel tower was very nearly demolished in 1909. It was saved by its use as a telecommunication tower.
• The top of the tower can increase up to 18 centimetres due to thermal expansion of the metal on the side facing the sun. 
• The tower sways to six to seven centimetres due to wind. 
• One person died in the construction of the Eiffel Tower.
• It is dark brown.
• In 1925, a con artist sold the Eiffel Tower for scrap - twice.

Thank you to everyone who offered their helpful suggestions
 The Limey

Nov 10, 2010, Barcelona Spain, 22:00. FC Barcelona vs. Ceuta.

 Walking down the Ramblas on a cool sunny day, the first for us on our travels in flops and shorts, we came upon an official FC Barcelona ticketing agent.  Jersey clad girls with multilingual toungues selling "cheap" tickets to tourists.  €10 for upper level seats to watch "Barca" play....Ceuta.  Small coastal town attached to  Moracco.  As soon as we got our tickets in hand I notice that the face value is €7.  Nice.  Great idea however selling tickets to tourists at a reasonable price still, when the stadium is built for many more fans than Ceuta will draw.  Cheaper than the cheap seats at a BC Lions game as I recall.

We arrive on game day via the metro very easily, not very crowded at all, no armed police there to guide the opposing fans, I guess they're coming from a different direction.  We follow the crowd to the stadium, luckily our gate is the first we come across.  Through the gate, through security without a glance at our bags, up the numerous stairs to our seats...at the very top...very very top!  behind us is a standing area, great for pictures or smoking if you didn't want to leave your seat to do so.  The wind was cold and fierce, but being Canadians we toughed it out for the first 25 minutes, before moving down in our section. 
The crowd slowly filed into the stadium as we waited with the extra time due to the ease of our arrival.  But as game time approached we became painfully aware that the tourists weren`t here to fill the gaps.  Not even the best seats in the lower sections filled up.  The stadium couldn't have been at one third capacity.  I don't care if it is Ceuta, I couldn't believe the lack of interest.  The BC Lions have drawn better against the seven teams they play two to three times every year at home.  And this is futbol-mad Spain, recent winners of the Euro Cup and World Cup; and this is Barca, home to the enviable triangle attacking style that Perry told me about. That style and many of these players being on the national team no less.  The stupid Lions draw better with a third string QB whose name should be in porn! seriously, Buck Pierce, I'm not making this up.  I`m not in marketing, but maybe if the game didn`t start at 10PM more people could bring their kids to such an affordable event.
 Two minutes in, and before Ceuta could touch a ball that the wind hadn't blessed them with, Barca was up by one.  The sparse crowd went nuts.  I have to admit they made a lot of noise for their numbers and cheered and chanted through most of the game.  Surprising number of vuvuzelas made an appearance too.  There were some small chanting sections, but no distinguishable opposition fan section that we could see, when Ceuta scored on one of their very few chances to make the game 2-1.  Barca simply toyed with their foes, passing around them easily, dribbling through one, two or more defenders.   Ceuta's keeper  touched the ball more than anyone on his team: having made more impressive saves than his team had touched the ball on the other end of the pitch.  It didn't help that a  Ceuta player had gotten red carded putting them down a man.
Going into the second half we decided to sit in the section down and looking onto the other half of the field from where our seats were, there was plenty of room, and having had all the action in front of us for a half we hardly wanted to watch grass grow in front of the Barca keeper  this half.  Five minutes in, Barca regained a two goal advantage and never looked back.  They dominated to the point of passing to their keeper to prevent boredom.  With 30 minutes remaining the crowd was suddenly agast.  I couldn`t see what was drawing such a reaction on the field till my fledgling futbol fan training drew my attention to the sideline where Lionel Messi was limbering up to enter the game.  The anticipation in the crowd was awesome, and for good reason, within minutes of being on the pitch he had helped create a couple of good chances on net.   About 10 minutes later he capitalized sending the crowd into adoring chants of "Messi! Messi!"  One more goal by Bojan Krkic ended a 5-1 romp that could`ve been much worse.
An easy metro ride back and we were in our beds in less than an hour.  All in all, it was an effortless,  inexpensive, fun sports experience.  One I would definately recommend to anyone visitng Barca, even non-sports fans.

The Yank

Halloweensbruck - We Climbed a Mountain Backwards

Signs that it's Halloween in Innsbruck, Austria: tomboy tween gangsters hucking  bottle caps in any general direction or at anyone's general direction; three wannabe gangsters exiting the corner gas station with a fresh carton and a mission to take up egging; one bed sheet ghost; one bloodied beer wench with crazy-haired killer (or world's worst hair day). Other than that, Halloween was pretty much non existant in Austria.

It was over some traditional Austrian cuisine that we were told the best thing to do in Innsbruck Austria was to go for a hike. Not really sure if the Austrian Alpes only offered the types of hikes you have to train regularly for, and half expecting that it had just been assumed that Morgan and I were avid hikers and had just signed up for a full body summit climb, we did some impromptu pantomiming research. We'd asked the two Austrian ladies who's idea it was we do this, with our hands at a 45 degree tilt showing the easy degree at which we'd like the hike to be, if there were hikes catered to the less avid hiker. We were in luck, so on October 31st, we climbed an Austrian Alp.

The bluest sky meeting mountains wrapped in a motionless wave of white wind kicking up the freshest snow. Below followed the firey amber colours that make autumn. The small town that is Innsbruck laid out at the perfect bird's eye view. Each apartment/townhouse complex is the boarder to its own inner-residential courtyard. The smoke stacks puffying white. The turbid mountain water, a somkey turqoise.

Other than the handfulls of locals and tourists that made it up the mountain that day, there was little in the way of wildlife. That was until we came upon the Landmark Donkey. I'm not too sure if the donkey came with the trail or not because all it did was sit in the middle of the path staring at the ground. I'd like to think that the tenants of the bar, that was the resting point for hikers, were the owners of the lost looking Landmark Donkey. It was either world's laziest donkey or it was down on life that no one dresses up as a donkey for Halloween. What is it with us and running into small, not-quite-horses horses (roadside midget poney in Beglium)?

It wasn't until we were sliding down the side of a mountain on our asses that we figured out that we'd picked the intended route up as our exit down. That we had made the wrong choice was made evidentally clear by contorted faces people would make as they passed us on their way up the mountain. No, it wasn't from their hiking exasperation. It was straight fear. There was one couple in particular that passed us and stopped to make some full volume comments in German that Morgan was sure he had translated into "You guys are ****** idiots!". I decided that we must have either looked like serious professional climbers who did this sort of thing all the time or like dummy tourists who have no concept of how to hike. It wasn't until the Mountaineer Pole Master literally speed hiked his way passed us and half way down the mountain by the time we'd made any progress.



Eventually we made our noodle leg descent to the base. We would feel the mountainous effects for days after.

Thank you, Innsbruck. You're a beauty.

Ps: On our train to Austria we were asked to move from the business class section to the first class section. When asking the train attendant what the difference between the two were he said "Business is more". It's actually less. Two chairs less.

The Limey

Things We Learned In: The Eastern Block

• Don't rely on the inter-city train system in Poland - the trains are always late and if changes are made over the P.A you are only notified in Polish by someone who has their mouth much too cloose to the microphone. Take the bus - even the train station ticketing attendants will tell you to do so when you complain.
• You can find some of the cheapest and most accomodating hostels in Eastern Europe. So far, the Art Deco Hostel in Krakow was the best hostel we've ever stayed in. Possibly better than most hotels. Squeaky clean, free breakfast that included a sandwich for lunch, one free load of laundry, free internet and Wifi, a large common room that is nicer than my own living room complete with a TV, Dvds, a gaming system and a book shelf where you can swap your own books for something better you find there, and the best part - saloon inspired rooms. The only thing you will need is soap and a towel, they aren't provided in any of the washrooms. We paid 16 euros each.
• Validate your metro cards. The Ticketing Police will fine you for not franking your card in the Czech Republic, Poland and Austria. Be careful of the smaller stations where travellers aren't in abundance. These are typically where they prey.
• Do not exchange your money in train stations. Go to the city centre and look for a Kantor. These places will give you the four Polish Zloty for your one Euro and won't rip you off.
• All public noise is forbidden by law in Prague. This includes singing, or any excessive noise. Bars can call the police on you if you are deemed "too noisey".
• There are people that walk around Prague calling themselves "Currency Inspectors". They will show you their "ID" cards, and ask to inpect your money. These people are scammers so you are fully encouraged to tell them to F--- Off.
• In Poland you can be arrested for being over the drinking limit on a bike. If caught you will pay a fine of several hundred Euros, be imprisioned until you do pay and then you will also loose your driving license for a minimum of one year.
• The best places to get hearty, no frills Polish food for super cheap are called (bar mleczny) or Milk Bars. They are communist holdovers and are much more of a cultural experience than anything else. The babooshka scoooping your mash doesn't speak English and neither does her menu. Expect to eat standing up. 10 pierogies you an find works out to about $1.50, Canadian.
• There is NO tourist pampering in Poland and the Czech Republic outside of a good hostel.
• Try a langos. It's like a pizza, but the crust is a puff pastry that is topped with ketchup, garlic and parmesan.
• If you're thinking of moving to Prague and becoming a waitress, it shant be easy. The waitresses in pubs use what looks to be the first computer ever made and type in all orders. It's no surprise they never smile.
• Two of the best look out points in Prague can be had for free. Vyšehrad is a church that was built in the 10th century on a hill over the Vltava River. The Prague Castle is the largest coherent castle complex in the world. Both offering breathtaking panoramic views of the city.
• Auschwitz is the German name given to the place in Poland called Oschwim to make it sound more Germanized during Nazi occupation.
• The sign at the entrance to Auschwitz that reads: "Work for Freedom" is not the original sign. It was stolen in 2009 and found in peices in a forest in Northern Poland.
• Canada 1 and 2 were the names given by the residents of Auschwitz Berkenau to the houses where all the memorobila was taken from the concentration camp victims. Working at one of these two houses was seen as the best job to have in Berkenau, a wonderful place where people wanted to go, and was thus crowned, Canada.
• An Auschwitz tour guide took a German group out one day and had a guidee recognize his father in a photo of a selection on display. His father was one of the Nazi guards who selected who would stay and work or go to the gas chambers.
• Shizercommando - the name given to the person who cleaned the latrines at Birkenau. It was considered one of the best jobs to have because you had all the time you wanted to clean yourself. Dysentery was one of the leading causes for illness and death in Auschwitz.
• Burger King is the most reliable source of Wifi in the Eastern Block. McDonald's may be, but we've quit going there for one year. 10 months and counting.

Lost in Prague

Slovakian Christina, you are a saint. I thank you a million times over and can only wish you all the happiness in the world for your kind gesture. You saved my life.

Rule Number 4 - A metro ticket is not valid unless you have it franked in the yellow box at the entrance to metro or on board by tram or you will face a costly tourist fine.

On our last night in Prague we visited a local Irish Pub to catch some good ol' American football. On the wall in Rocky O'Rielly's Irish house was a list of the Rocky's 10 Commandments. A list that is detrimental to making or breaking your trip to Prague, a list that I wish we had come upon before making it to the Czech Republic.

Hopping of the train to Prague, I thought we'd made it to the main station (it started with an S, but so did the one in Milan or was that Verona? - either way, I was obviously confused and shouldn't have left the train). Morgan, being the nice guy, stopped to answer an older man's question about whether this was indeed the main stop (information I should have hung around for too). The last thing I remember is seeing the train roll away with Morgan still on it and I was standing alone on the wrong platform.

Where would his train stop? Do I wait here? Do I get on another train? Do I ask someone for help? Many bad and terrible swear words later, I decided to do as I was taught, stay where I was, or at least I would until the clock read 3:30pm. Then I would make my way to the hostel hoping that Morgan would be doing the same. I had the instructions to the hostel, 20 Euros in my wallet and both of our passports. Maybe Morgan was already back on another train back to the station I was at, but even if he was, I wasn't able to see him get out because of all the massive trains blocking my view. I left the station praying I had made the right decision.

I made my way down to the tickeing booth and bought a ticket from a lemon of a woman who charged me a 26 koruny ticket good for only 75 minutes and pointed me in the direction of the Metro. No words were exchanged from her, she was a Czech robot or just didn't want to help me. I'm sticking with choice A. (We can skip over the part where I fell over sideways from the weight of my 60 litre backpack still strapped to me while getting my wallet. Not knowing that I was halfway across the city and would have to transfer trains, I looked for line C, but only saw options A and B. I asked a young woman, who looked less robotic and more likely to offer help, if she spoke English. Success. I showed her my directions and she told me I'd have to take the B Line and transfer to another train. She was heading in the same direction so we caught the metro together. Still shaking from the stress, I held back tears of fear the entire ride while having to manoeuvre my way in and out of the subway doors to accommodate glaring passengers in the packed cabin.

Six stops later, we leave the jam packed subway car. Still not knowing her name, we head for the escalators to catch our next train. I mention that I haven't stamped my ticket and wonder if I have to. I had seen little boxes around, but no one was using them so I had followed suit. She insists that I need to do this so we are about to find a box when I am confronted by The Ticket Jerk (an elderly man with coke bottle glasses and a large calculating devine slung over one shoulder). It was weird because he came at me with such skill and calculated purpose, pun intended, that it was as if he'd spotted my from miles away like a skilled Serengeti hyena and had come in for the kill. He grunted something in Czech to me. The young woman translated telling me that he wanted to see my ticket. I showed him and he grunted again about no stamp and demanded my passport. He then demanded 700 dollars (Czech dollars). Now I'm no mathematician, but in my Canadian mind, that accounted to way too much money and would pretty much dry me right out of my funds for Europe. I tried to explain that I had paid for the ticket but I am a tourist and didn't see the boxes. But he The Ticketing Jerk wasn't having any of it. He then bumped it up to 7000 dollars and muttered something about the police station. I began to panic. I couldn't see straight and thought I might pass out right there in the station. The young woman who was still with me, spoke to him in Czech, but he wasn't going to budge. He was out to get me.

I stood there and told him I had no money, opening my wallet and showing him my 20 measly euros. He laughed and said go to the ATM. It was probably either very smart or stupid of me, but I choice to deny that request. I simply stood there and said "NO!" fully forseeing myself sitting in a Prague jail cell while Morgan would be searching the streets for me. Again he repeats the order of my punishment: ticket, 7000 dollars, police station. Showing him again my crinkled 20 euros, he then demands 30, obviously an amount I didn't have. I stood there shaking my head and remember saying okay lets go to the station then. It was such a blur because the transaction happened too quickly, but I recall the young woman opening her purse, pulling out her wallet, and handing me 10 euros. I added it to my 20 and was given back my passport and a 700 koruny fine that I have kept has a souvenir.

Lost for words at her act of kindness to a stanger tourist, and having no cash on me to repay her, I stuck out my trembling hand and officially met Christina from Slovakia.

I found my way to the hostel and Morgan turned up a couple hours later. He had done exactly what I thought he might do, caught a 3:15pm train back to the station I had disembarked at, but couldn't see me past all the trains on the platform. He then spent the next hour searching the main station thinking I may have realized I was at the wrong station and trained there. Finally he checked his Facebook and saw my messages of dismay telling him I was at the hostel and that if he were to use the Metro, to make aure he validated his ticket.

Side note - 700 CZK koruny is roughly 29 euros (40 Canadian). The validation boxes are yellow, roughly the size of a tissue box and are not always at the point of entry to the Metro; they are more likely to be randomly placed off the side.

The Limey

Milan Futbol Massacre

Oct 20th, 2010.  We'd been in Milan for two days at this point, and had staked out our favourite pizza joints, and the very affordable, easily navigated, transit system.  We were meeting
Lindsay's cousin from Reading, Perry, and going to a Tottenham Spurs game as we couldn't afford to see them IN England.
Perry had been on the same beautiful train ride from Zurich that we'd taken a couple days before, but unfortunately the weather was a little more spuratic for Perry than for us.  We quickly sorted him into his hotel and went about getting a few drinks in us and a good serving of pizza, while catching up.  The stadium was alcohol free, at least for the visiting fans. I could feel the anticipation rising amongst ourselves, and in the city in general, as the throng of Tottenham suporters swelled into Milan.  We could hear groups chanting and singing from blocks away as AC Milan fans gave us their blessing to beat their intercity rivals.
We took the Metro to the closest station to the stadium and were ushered, based on our appearance/lack of fashion in Milanites opinion, into awaiting, free buses by obviously armed police.  The busses were again full to the brim with singing Tottenham suporters.  My personal favorites, having nothing to do of course with them being the only legible ones, where "Spurs go marching in" to the tune of "Saints go marching in" and "VaVa-VaVa-VaVa-VaVa-Van der Varrt" sung to KC and the Sunshine Band's "Baby Give it Up".  The latter honoring, my new favorite futboler, Dutch national Rafael Van der Varrt, unavailable this game due to a red card in the previous game. I bought his jersey in Amsterdam and proudly wore the carrot orange jersey for days.  We were hearded through a few security gates, frisked, and marched up our choice of only one ramp.


Gametime, up-upstairs, fenced and netted off of the rest of the stadium was approximately 5000-6000 Tottenham fans.  By halftime, Spurs were down a man and we'd shamefully watched the Inter Milan fans light flares and cheer along to the stadium announcer, lame! Four times to our zero, no less, some fans where considering leaving in time to take the last flight back to England, only to be told they can't leave the stadium.  Good thing for them cause in the latter part of the second half, Welsh-born Gareth Bale streaked down the left side and scored.  Perry had predicted before the game that Bale should have a good one, a prediction forgotten at 4-0, but revived at 4-1.  The Tottenham fans erupted!!  Perry quickly pointed out the Tottenham fans throughout the rest of the stadium.  There must've been a couple thousand more!!  The chanting, which never stopped, but toned down a bit, was back at pre-game enthusiasm: "Second halfs one nil!! The second halfs one nil!!"  It was all better now.  This goal, and opportunity to go berserk, made it all worthwhile.  Understandably, travelling all that way to sit on your hands for a couple hours would be, like travelling to watch a Leafs game I guess.  As the game wound down, only a couple minutes left, the fans started moving towards the exit, not to leave, but to linger closer to the exit, when Bale struck again.  Pandemonium ensued in the aisles and in the stands when Bale struck a third time on a beautiful give-n-go. The fans nirvana slipped to hope and angst over, "where was this an hour ago!".  "The second halfs three nil, the second halfs three nil!"
As extra time slipped away and the amazing Champions League comeback ebbed, I started to realize that we weren't going anywhere.  I could see from our third teir aisle view that the rest of the stadium was empty.  30 minutes later the groundskeeper was out, the stadium undecorated in lieu of an AC Milan game no doubt, and the reserve players back out stretching on the field!  It was surreal to me that we were held like cattle for that long due to the fear of English futbol hooliganism.  This was by far the most threated I'd felt, lookin' over at Perry, a seasoned pro as a travelling fan, he looked, "business as usual."  By the time we got out of the stadium it was near and hour after the game had ended, with the free busses unable to close their doors due to Tottenham fans cramming in, we went for a libertaing walk back to the station.

My second game was full of a lot of excitement and firsts for this NHL/NFL veteran, and it was again a great experience!  Thanks to Perry for helping us out with the tickets and playing futbol tour guide for us again.

The Yank

Night Moves 262: Morgan versus ze German

"I don't care what sprechen sie Deutchbag thinks of me. And that's when Texas laughed".  MCW recapping the events that took place on a night train from Milan to Prague.

Some of our most memorable training experiences so far have been on the night trains. Flipping through the Eurail timetable, provided with our Eurail pass, you'll see a symbol of a fully reclined character enjoying his time on a night train, also called a couchette (a hopeful indication of the luxury you will have with a chair bed). Here's what you really get - a less fully drawn sun chair and a more pin-straight, 90-degree-angled chair. The recline is at best 92 degrees and is probably less than that of an airliner seats'.

Having only been on one previous night train that had gone off smoothly (Berlin to Zurich), we figured we'd travel more by night; saving on the cost of accomodation and not wasting a day travelling, a plus. The first sleeper had been nice because the booking agent felt it was his ordained duty to tell us that it would be in our best interst to pay an extra 15 Euro each and get a bed instead of the couchette. The booking agent said that he'd taken a couchette once before and he promised himself he'd never do it again. On that note, we booked the beds (tiny bunks that hang from the walls allowing no room for splaying or turning). With a plan to head to Spain via France, we were told that the striking had closed down all ground and air routes through the country. So, at a turn of our Eurail timetable page, we decided to head to the Czech Republic.

When we found cabin 262, we had been mentally prepared to unload our back-breaking packs, hop into our mini bunks for a brief five hour sleep and wake up in Munich. Rounding the cabin doorway, my peaceful austere clattered to the floor after I saw four people already sitting in our bedroom. Six chairs, three on each wall, narrow, old, uncomfortable and facing eachother. There was barley two feet separating the two rows. We had the middle two seats. This would be a sleepless night and no head leaning, unless we wanted things to get even weirder.

Two young girls and a middle aged man would be our couchetting mates for the night. The middle aged couple spoke German, and we only found this out because the gentleman (who wasn't anything close to gentle) screamed at Morgan in hard German when he tried to rearrange the overhead baggage to accomodate our own. He kept screaming until he almost got up out of his chair so Morgan slammed his bag on the cabin floor and said "Fine, it's gonna go right here". After a few moments of sheer rage, Morgan got back up and had to play home improvements with the luggage now moving everyone elses around, except for the ragging German's.

We were off to a lovely family night full of juicy hostility, burning eyes and lots of good leg cramping.  The couple didn't sleep, instead they waited until I had finally fallen asleep to wake me and demand that I move my bagagge so that the man could get to his, something he could have done very easily on his own. Actually it wasn't even a question. He just pointed at the bag and said "Move bag". Morgan had left the cabin to do some reading and hadn't been there to witness this. It wasn't until we were waiting for our connection to Prague in Munich that Morgan wandered off pretending to look for a our platform listing, but had really gone off on the prawl for the German. If it hadn't been for the two English speaking girls in our cabin (one from Texas) playing rounds of 20 questions and "Would you rather..." scenarios, Morgan and I may have found that brawl we'd missed out on in Glasgow.

PS - Morgan let us down that night. Being one of the gaseous people we both know, he was all out of bombs that night. And in that confined cabin, in those heated moments, it would have been the perfect time and place for the most musical of episodes.

The Limey