Saturday, April 26, 2014

Heavy

After my two days of enjoying Easter calm in the city, things ramped up, The next two days were really heavy. I went to Nuremberg and Dachau. Nuremberg was educational. Dachau was emotional. 

I have never been a history buff. WWII is perhaps the historical period I know the most about but in Nuremberg I quickly discovered I know very little.

The museum in Nuremberg I visited was exceptional and extensive. I am most familiar with the actually happenings during the war so for me the most insightful sections explained how Hilter rose to power and maintained a submissive and enthusiast following. Hitler's ideology was definitely extreme but at it's most basic I think it filled the need to blame someone for the state Germany was in after WWI. The German people were unhappy with their government, with their living conditions, and, as seems to be human nature, were looking for someone to blame. Hilter eloquently and passionately presented the people with targets for their blame and solutions to their problems. He wisely withheld the full extent of his plans and was able to clutch the hearts and minds of many Germans. 

His take over was not as smooth as I originally thought. There were those who opposed him right from the start and he was thrown in jail for his ideologies and unsavoury behaviours. It was during this time he wrote "Mein Kampf". What I didn't know was that during this time he began to look for legal ways to take over the government. And he found them. Then once he was in power, his control methods returned to his preferred less than legal style. Or should I say he changed the laws to make his plans legal. 

Hilters rise to power is more understandable when you know that it was built on addressing the psychological needs of the people, his full intentions weren't understood by anyone and that (the successful) attempt was conducted legally. That being said, after seeing Dachau I again couldn't understand how things could have gotten so bad. 

Dachau was overwhelming. I was filled with conflicting thoughts which brought on a mix of emotions ranging from shame to awe to everything in between. It's extremely difficult to explain but I'm going to try. I want you to understand that I am not proud nor really ashamed of some of the thoughts that crossed my mind because it is what I conclude from my individual reactions that should be judged. 

Upon my arrival at the entrance to the living quarters (which is where the memorial is) I felt a heavy, almost physical weight in my chest. I thought about how many people walked through that gate not knowing what their fate would be. Perhaps at the beginning of the war they didn't even worry. Some likely thought this was just a temporary inconvenience. Towards the end of the war I'm sure it was fear and resoluteness that occupied their minds. Immediately after this feeling settled I became concerned with getting a good picture. And while taking the picture - so that it looked just right - I felt ashamed. But yet I also felt that I should capture this image well because it is so meaningful. 

Walking through the door brought another wave of emotional responses. It's was empty, clean, boring. There were a couple nicely painted buildings and a few plaques. Scattered around were some impressively large trees. I felt much the same way I did in Pompeii. Where is the evidence of suffering? Where is the humanity and loss of humanity? It is just a section of earth and structures of wood. Then I read the first plaque while listening to the audio guide. I looked into the faces of the people in the picture who were lined up for roll call for sometimes hours on end. That was not right. I turned to the expanse of gravel that had bored me minutes earlier and I could see in my minds eye the humanity. The loss of humanity. It broke my heart and made me mad. No one should ever be treated like that. No one. But still it felt my response was not enough. Like I didn't really understand the terribleness of this place. My anger and sadness was lacking. It did not match the immeasurable pain experienced there in the past. 

As I walked through the rest of the memorial site, these responses continued to cycle. I saw the bunk houses with their smoothly sanded and well constructed bunk beds standing uncountable in tiny rooms. I saw the crematorium dustless and cold tucked away so the scent of burning bodies would permeate the camp but at least you couldn't see the cottage like building that housed the flames. I saw the guard towers empty and looming evenly placed around the perimeter surrounded by green grass and partial sections of fencing. I felt fear and sadness. I felt like a tourist. 

It is strange how your human experiences bring mental shame on you just because of where you are situated. I found myself exhausted by the emotional cycle. (How dare I be exhausted by so little). I grew hungry. (How dare I be hungry in this place). I was tired. (You do not know what tired is). All I wanted to do was sit down. (We stood for up to 72 hours in solitary confinement ). I wanted to go see other sites. (We wanted to go home). 

At one point during my time at Dachau, I sat down and just reflected on all the thoughts I was having and this battle to understand but feeling so emotionally removed. I was overwhelmed by this thought that I should feel more deeply. That because I wasn't sobbing uncontrollably that my humanity was in question. It's a terrifying thought to feel your emotional response to the Holocaust is inadequate. 

I still don't quite know how one should feel when visiting sites of tragic loss. Most of my time at Dachau was spent trying to reconcile mixed intellectual and emotional responses. Like I said before I'm neither proud nor ashamed of those responses. I think the struggle to connect is what makes the experience the most powerful. And in the end what matters is how you encorporate that experience into your life going forward. 

I did have one really strong and clean cut response during my visit. It made me believe that while my head and heart might not connect on some aspects I certainly hadn't lost my humanity. It reassured me that going forward I will be a better person. 

"The Bunker", as it was known to those held captive in the camp, was a place of extreme terror. There were no rules. No tortures that were off limits. And often no real reason for being sent there or being released. Every prisoner in the camp feared being sent to "The Bunker" and every prisoner inside of it feared never leaving alive. 

"The Bunker" is the concentration camp jail. 

The first room I entered was the guard's office. I cannot explain the reaction I had walking in there. I wanted to tear that room apart. I want to punch every single person that ever sat in that room in the face. I wanted to cry. I wanted to spit on the images of the men who wardened that jail throughout the camp's existence. I was mad. 

I think my reaction was so strong because I understood this place. In this space my emotional-intellectual disgust met with my personal experience disgust.
This empty, white walled room was the office of people who disrespected human life on a whole new level. I immediately connected it to our offices at work. The portraits of the wardens on the walls became portraits of my coworkers. The write ups about their conduct made my soul scream "how could you do that?!". I know how a jail is supposed to be run. It is never supposed to be run like that.

I was angry because I understand the power those guards had and how completely they abused it. Abuse of power became a sport. Some guards became professional athletes. 

I was angry because I understood the suffering of the people forcibly contained in that building. I have seen what a few days of solitary confinement can do to someone when they are healthy, well fed, given light and exercise, are allowed to sit down, have books to read and people to talk to, and do not have to fear daily torture. My heart literally hurts at the thought of what removing those basic elements would do to a person. 

I became a guard to gain insight as to why people do terrible things. Those insights were supposed to come from interactions with people on the other side of the bars from me. I became a guard to ensure there was a least one person who cared for the dignity of - guilty - people. The guards at this jail took those positions for the absolute opposite reasons. 

People say you can't know how you will react until you are in a situation. I think to some extent that is true but after visiting Dachau I feel I can say with reasonable certainty I would have fought. I would have joined the resistance on either side of the bars. There were pockets of resistance within the prisoner population and within the German population. There were people who fought for humanity. I would have been one of them. 

I went to Dachau to see, to understand. I went to know what humans are capable of. We are capable of great atrocity. That will never be me. I am alive and imbued with respect for the lives of others. 

"Never again"
            - memorial plaque, Dachau

Guten Tag

Hey everyone. I've made it to Germany. So far it's living up to expectations and I anticipate it only getting better as I get to visit friends I haven't seen in around 4 years.

My first stop was in Munich for 5 days. Munich is a bustling city that has been beautifully restored and expanded since it suffered a great deal of bombing during WWII. 

I arrived just before Easter but of course I didn't know this. Traveling has a funny way of removing all sense of time and calendar. On Easter Sunday I went out to take a look at the town and was stuck that it was extremely quiet. First I realized that it was a Sunday which explained a bit. It really was too quiet though. Then I had the first hand experience of
Here is the church 
Here is the steeple 
Open the doors and
See all the people. 
Unfortunately, I was on a tour with a friend who didn't have any interest in staying for a service so I missed out on that. 

The few minutes I did spend inside the various churches were enough for me anyway. All three churches we stopped in were Catholic churches and the amount of incense being burned was really overwhelming. I don't think I would have stayed anyway. Instead I decided to appreciate the Easter message as I took in the beauty of spring and the impressive resurrection of a city that was incredibly broken. I felt it fitting. 

Happy Belated Easter! 

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Ciao Bella

Well folks I'm leaving the most beautiful Italy. I'm currently on a train that will transport me to the boarder of Italy and Austria.

I'm kinda excited but probably not for the reasons you think. After this current train, I board another that will promptly do the most European thing trains can do and travel through 3 countries in just over 2 hours. Say what?! The closest to that you can experience in Canada would be if you went to the border of say Saskatchewan and Alberta, crossed, and then swiftly dived into 'Murica. But customs and such... I don't know if you could make it. And also, who does that? It would likely end up being a special trip with a special route just to say "I did that!" And even so you are a country short. 

But before I get to far ahead of myself, I'll tell you about Venice. Venice was all about the budget and the atmosphere. I stayed at a campsite just outside of island Venice. It was a super cute camping area with multiple styles of budget accommodation. Within the city, I walked everywhere and attempted to eat as little of the overpriced food as possible. 

I arrived at the campsite safely and easily and approached my tent with anticipation. As I zipped open the front "door" JD's operatic Mistaaaaaaaaake (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slVpcp_UIjQ) rang in my ears and I remembered I don't like camping. The tent was tiny with barely enough room to stand between the cots. I didn't have a roommate for the first two nights though so the empty bed became my much needed dresser space. I slept, or rather attempted to sleep, under a blanket I was most definitely allergic to. I say attempted because it was freaking cold! And also it's hard to sleep when your eyes and nose are super itchy and you can't stop sneezing. I had been warned about night temps but figured I'm Canadian eh? I can handle it. I received no warning about the presumably horse hair blanket. All that aside I really enjoyed my time there. I suppose I like camping within certain perimeters. It helped that the staff were some of the friendliest I've met so far and the site was really pretty. 

I will note that campsites attract a whole other type of traveler. The first two campers I met there warned me about the "strange people at this place". I giggled inside because they were definitely stranger than anyone I have ever met in a hostel. No one there was particularly off putting but the hippies did aboundth plentifully. 

My time in Venice proper was improperly spent. What I mean is that I didn't do much that a good tourist does. I didn't gondola. (Sorry Maria). I didn't climb that super tall tower. I didn't go to any museums or islands. I'm finding that I am really site seeing-ed out. I went into two churches, the famous Saint Marco's Church and some other random church. Mistaaaaake. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFmuO6xJ36g) Sorry churches/museums/art galleries/ruins you are beautiful but I just don't like you right now. 

What I did do was picture hunt. I walked for a least 6 hours the first day. I got brilliantly lost and took beautiful pictures along the way. You can't take a bad pic in Venice. The second day I only walked 4 hours and I mostly graffiti picture hunted. The pictures I didn't get were of Mr. Hare and me. Completely forgot. Mistaaaaaake. 

Oh and I ate way to much food. My last restaurant meal in Italy consisted of my favourite Italian foods. I had locally made red wine, margarita pizza, and gnocchi. Too tasty. Definitely not a mistake. I also justified it by reminding myself I was walking a ton and I went for a personal best run the night before. That's also how I justified my 2nd last restaurant meal later that night. Margarita pizza for the win. 

Speaking of wins here's a brief list of wins I experienced in Italy. 

- Foccacia 
- Napoli styled pizza
- The Vatican Museum and Sistine Chapel
- Pompeii
- Traveling with Rosemary
- The Colosseum 
- Beach time compete with kayaks 
- Gnocchi 
- Cinque Terre
- Florence

That's a pretty darn good list. Thanks Italy. It's been a slice! 

Ciao Bella 






Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Florence and 5 Pirate Towns

Well friends... I don't have much to tell you this time around...

I've been a terrible tourist and a great traveller the last week or so. After Rome, I went to Florence and Cinque Terre and then back to Florence again. I basically did nothing the whole time. 

Florence was purely wandering, eating, shopping, sleeping, and relaxing. I met great people at my hostel and went dancing one night. I didn't see a single museum. I barely looked at the marble copy of the Statue of David. Didn't even attempt to find the bronze copy. Still have no idea where the Uffizi museum is located. I simply spent all my time enjoying being in a beautiful city with really lovely people. It's such a welcome change from being on the go and trying to see everything everywhere. 

Cinque Terre was the same kinda thing. I slept in, went hiking, ate food, tanned, and met new people. I saw all 5 pirate towns so I guess I was a decent tourist. I even made it to some bonus towns on the coast. But I didn't stop in any churches or museums. It was really, really, chill. I did do a day trip to Pisa for all of 3 hours and then toodled back to Cinque Terre to be a bum again. 

The most noteworthy thing I've done is decide to do a half marathon in Germany when I go to visit my friend Jan. When I gave him my tentative dates for chilling with him, he was totally stoked. He also casually informed me that he was going to run this race during that time period and casually invited me to prove that everyone is an athlete and run it with him. How could I refuse?! So I'm in and "training". I've managed to go for a run once since commiting... I'm going to have to pick up the pace (pun intended) if I want to triumph. 

Hmmm what else? I have kinda finalized dates for visiting my aunt and German friends. So that's exciting. I'm waiting on a reply from a German police officer I met in Bulgaria about a tour of a German prison. I'm super stoked about that idea. Hmmmmm. That's about it. Rosemary and I split for the week I was in Cinque Terre and have reunioned in Florence with Dylan (an Aussie chef friend we made the first time through Florence). I'm actually surprised how much I missed her company while in Cinque Terre. Maybe traveling with a friend isn't such a bad idea...

Right. That's about it. Check out my pics. A couple are pretty sweet if I do say so myself. 

Lazy snuggles, 
    Julia

Saturday, April 5, 2014

Your Head Asplode

*If you get the reference in the title of this blog, go to www.homestarrunner.com. Apparently it's been revamped.*

If you don't get the reference, don't worry. It's mostly just a plug for a childhood favourite site. It does, however, accurately capture how much my head hurts after being in Rome only 3.5 days. I'm lucky I'm leaving for Florence or I might end up in a Roma Coma. 

Rome is completely enveloping. Every block has a fountain or statue or huge marble building. Sometimes they put all those things on the same corner just to watch all the tourist's necks break -- and heads asplode -- as they try to take it all in. Rosemary and I wandered leisurely these last 3.5 days. The first day we just looked around. We haphazardly came across monuments such as The Trevi Fountain, The Pantheon, The Piazza Navona, and more. The second day we went to the Colosseum, and Palantine Hill and the Roman Forum. We also accidentally encountered what we have termed the "white wedding cake building" because we have yet to discover its actual name. The third was devoted entirely to the Vatican Museum and Sistine Chapel. And .5 of the fourth was spent at Saint Peter's Basilica and the Pantheon. Even at such a lesuirely pace, we returned to our hostel every night and fell into bed exhausted. Our exhaustion was mental and physical. The things we saw consumed all our mental facilities and despite being relatively close together they consumed the tread of our shoes and the engery of our legs.  

I have a theory on why Rome is so overwhelming. Naturally because it is a city it is more bustling. And obviously because it is so crazy old there will be a lot of history. But for me, the following is the clincher. In Rome, nearly everything is intact. Even the sites that suffered terrible fires in the past have been meticulously repaired or restored throughout the ages. Very few areas are currently sitting in ruin. In every other city I've been to, the history has been displayed nearly completely in ruins.

Ruins and complete structures effect the mind differently. When one walks through a hill of ruins, for example Palantine Hill and the Roman Forum, one imagines tall buildings and beautiful statues. The area's splendor is vast but is essentially within the limits of one's imagination. And one's imagination is subject to the limits of one's mind. Thus, you feel impressed or maybe even awed but you likely would not say overwhelmed. Such has been my experience previously and to a smaller extent in Rome. Conversely, when you turn a corner and are faced with 4 monumental buildings of white marble, of brick, and of stone, your visual field is assailed. Throw 20-30 life sized statues on each building scattered around countless sculpted arches, doors, and windows and your eyes have trouble picking a focal point. You focus on one spot just to be distracted by something else tickling your perifery. Add in even the slightest attempt to contemplate the gathering of those materials, their shaping, and transport to the site and your mind begins to spin with your eyes. Then you consider the construction relying solely on the power of man and beast. No cranes, no power tools. My brain nearly implodes. But there is more. People used these buildings. Millions of people walked those halls. Billions of conversations were had. Life changing discussions, choices, and laws were breathed into the spaces between those magnificent walls. 

I'm dizzy writing this to you. 

My saving grace has been my camera. I distract my mind with thoughts of exposure styles, proper subject framing and the like. I half-click a button and bring my picture and my mind back to focus. I let myself forget about looking at every detail and relax into the knowledge that my pictures will capture those details for me. 

"There, there brain. It's going to be ok."

I have loved every second of my time in Rome. After Florence and Pisa, I plan to return. Hopefully I will be less of a tourist and will be able to immerse myself more in the culture and life of the city. Perhaps I'll even sneak in some shopping. 

-----------------------------------------------

Hey guys. I'm back. 

I wrote that first part on the train to Florence. My head literally hurt and my eyes were aching. Now I've had a good nights sleep and I feel more mentally capable to share more about Rome with you. 

It's funny. I'm still struggling with where to start and what to say. Meh. This blog has never been organized so let's just dive in!

The Trevi Fountain. 
As it seems to go in Rome, we turned the corner and Bam! there it was. I'm sure you've all seen pictures or are capable of running The Google or The Facebook so let you discover it visually that way. 

I, while capable of running The Google, hadn't researched the fountain and as such had no idea what to expect. Rosemary on the other hand had been wanting to see this since she was small. Neither of us were disappointed. It was massive. It completely filled your visual field. The running water perfectly complimented the fluidity of the sculpted figures. The water's crystal blue subtly amped the effect of the white marble. Everything projected and slid with grace into the next plateue or relief and pooled in shimmering blue and white ripples. 

-------------------------------------

Ok so I got overwhelmed again thinking about writing about all the major sites I saw. And three days later I'm no more inclined to hammer through it all. 

So. 

We'll just have to have a conversation about it when I get home. Ask me about the crazy pizza guy too. That's a good story. 

Let's just hope the suspense doesn't hospitalize you all. 

Love! 

Monday, March 31, 2014

Shake, Shake, Shake, Señora!

*Please read this blog whilst playing the epic Shake Señora scene from Beetlejuice in the background for full effect.*

Naples is supposedly known to be dirty and crime ridden. I didn't find it bad at all. However that might be because I fit right in here. I haven't showered in a few days (swimming in the ocean is the same as showering right?) and I've had more than a few "free" bus rides lately (totally not my fault that there are no ticket booths open in the winter). 

Naples itself was quite a nice town. Rosemary and I spent the first day wandering and stumbled across a few cool places. Upon the recommendation of Clare T-P, we saw Santa Chiara's church. It was beautiful and absolutely huge. From the outside we guessed that the church had at least 2 levels. If not three. Instead we discovered a vaulted ceiling of a height I have yet to see matched. The most striking aspect of the church was an unfortunate one. When we walked through the main gate to the church ground, we were both struck by the sheer amount of graffiti covering the church. I know I have talked about the graffiti in Greece and Italy before but it continues to perplex me. It's simply everywhere. Nothing is sacred and none of the writings/pictures/tags have any apparent meaning at all. It appears it's just bored kids. In a culture that appears to be quite Catholic, I would have expected gated off historical churches to be spared. Such is disappointingly not the case. 

Our second major sight absolutely floored me. Rosemary and I search out De Michele -- the pizza place featured in every single Italian/European guide book and also in the book/movie "Eat, Pray, Love". It is said to have the best pizza in Naples. That's a huge deal as Naples is said to have the best pizza in Italy, and Italy the best pizza in the world. But more about our meal later. Because we weren't quite hungry and the line was really long, we went to see the Duomo just up the hill. This, my friends, was a sight beyond description. 

The exterior boasts large carved lions, giant inlayed statues, a formidable wooden double door entrance, and a welcome lack of graffiti. The interior is vast. This is likely the largest church I have seen and it's floor plan appears to be completely open. However, once you begin to move through the sanctuary you discover alcoves and special rooms primarily designated for saints and icons. 

The main area contains pews and a few large organs. There is a display at the front with an altar, angels sculpted and extending from the front wall, stained glass images and more. It's incredible to behold. Most impressive, as I learn time and time again, are the paintings on the ceiling. Images from different parts of the bible grace the ceiling and seem to remind the soul that God is everywhere. It struck me that if you got bored in the service and decided to stare at the ceiling you would still be presented with biblical values and stories. However, it was not abrasive in any sense. Even I, as a religious person, find some churches to be "preachy" in their construction and decoration. This church did not have that air. 

The largest room on the right of the church is devoted to San Gennaro. This room is exquisite. It's bursting with sculptures and paintings. The altar is a pure work of art and the ceiling does not disappoint. This room is also special because it holds San Gennaro's skull and two phials of his blood. On three specific days of the year his blood liquifies and is placed on display. It is said that if this phenomenon ever failed to happen, disaster would befall Naples. 

The front of the church is situated upon the crypt of San Gennaro. This room is far more simply decorated and has a calm air about it. There is an extremely well crafted sculpture of a cloaked man kneeling before the room in which his remains are kept. 

The third room we actually missed on our first time through the Duomo. It has many small alcoves with icons and sculptures. The most interesting for me was the alcove containing a collection of bones. These bones are attributed to various saints and range from fragments to full skulls. It is an eerie little collection. The teeth especially were off putting. I'm not sure why. 

Side note: I've already posted these pics and more on Facebook so please swing by and check them out. They definitely don't do the place justice though. 

Right. After sitting on a marble step outside the Duomo for a solid 10 minutes, we had collected ourselves enough to stuff our faces with world famous pizza. The line was no shorter nearly an hour later so we grabbed a ticket and waited. It was definitely worth the wait. These pizzas were more than delicious and were my first encounter with real Italian pizza. The dough was perfectly crunchy and burned on the edges and a cooked doughy consistent in the middle. It is impossible to eat by hand. Rosemary and I split two pizzas and walked out with the happiest tummies known to man/woman/humanity.

The rest of the day was spent enjoying more walking and random sights. Oh! We also made a freaking awesome stir fry from fresh, farmer grown vegetables we bought at the market. Man did I ever need some veggies in my system. No offense to pizza but the carbs are really starting to catch up to me. 

Hokey Dina this blog is a doozy. I have so much more to share with you. Hunker down folks this is going to be a longer one. 

Moving on! Second day in Naples we had a game plan. The underground with two American guys we met at our hostel, then the Castle De'Ovo (Castle of the Egg) and then some tasty gelato. 

The day was rainy and thus was perfect for indoor activities. The underground tour was enlightening. The only history I really knew of this area was centred on Pompeii and the eruption of Vesuvius. Obviously there is a lot more going on. For instance, the area of Naples was once Greccian territory. During the Greek rule Naples was founded and an expansive aqueduct system was created directly below the city. The rocks removed to form the aqueduct were immediately used to build the homes and shops directly above. Because of this, nearly 3/4 of Naples is hollow below street level. 

I learned a ton of cool things about this system and it's uses over the years but in the interest of your time and the fact that my train will arrive in Rome soon, I'll just share the highlights. 

1. There were physically small men that used to lower themselves through peoples wells to clean the scum off of the water reserves. They were termed Little Monks due to the garb they wore while working. The Italians have a folklore around these little men. The general idea is that if things in your home are missing or found it odd places it is because these little monks have come to play tricks on you. In older times, if ladies received gifts from men who weren't their husbands, they would explain it away by saying "I don't know where it came from. A little monk must have left it here."
2. During WWII the aqueduct, which was no longer in use, was used as a bomb shelter. The wells were all sealed off except one and entrances with easier access were created. The single well that was left open is a bit surprising as it is large enough for a bomb to fall through. Indeed there were a few bombs found inside the caves. There are also found relics from this refuge period on display in the cave. Children's toys and gas masks were the most poignant for me. 
3. A while ago an Italian scientist proposed that the unused cave system be converted into an underground greenhouse. He proposed that the natural humidity of the caves would water the plants sufficiently and that natural light could be delivered via the wells and strategic placement of mirrors. This project has never been undertaken due to its expensive nature. However, the tour company set up a small scale experiment and had great success. For the last 20 or so years a small garden has been growing untended save for weeding. I really hope they realize this project in the future. The cave system is so large that I'm sure it could feed most of the city if fully utilized. 

Dang. We are in Rome. I'll finish this up when I have found a place to sleep tonight. For now, ciao! 

I have a bed for the next few nights and then we'll see from there. That's half the adventure. We just found out that prices jump as of April 1st so that's coming. :(

Ok. Back to my happy haps! 

After the underground we went for pizza at another place recommended by Clare T-P. Delicious. I don't think you can find a bad pizza in Naples. 

Then it was off to the Egg Castle. So here's the story with this castle. Way back in the day there was this Roman poet named Virgil. He was supposedly a sorcerer as well. He put a golden egg in the foundation of the castle which is supposed to fortify the structure. But! If it's ever found... Drum roll... The ruin of Naples is imminent. I think Pompeii might have gotten into this regions head. They seem to have a few superstitions about their ruin. 

Speaking of Pompeii! That was where we headed the next day. After a kerfuffle with the trains, we were on our way. This time Rosemary and I had not only the American boys in tow but also two French boys. The French are hilarious. I think Benoit tricked me three or four times that day. (Oh also we went clubbing with the French and American boys, plus a few more, the night before Pompeii. It was fun. I am unpopular with Italian men. Not sure if I should be relieved or insulted haha).

Anyway, Pompeii. I hadn't done any research before arriving so I didn't know what to expect visually. I knew there was a city that was ruined by an volcanic eruption and an earthquake after but didn't know what state it was in now. I was definitely surprised at how intact things were. I also didn't think things would be so extensively excavated. It makes total sense now. I mean, it's a huge tourism site and a huge historical site too. But still. I expected more of a city in shambles than nicely preserved ruins. 

Walking through the city was strange for me. Precisely because it was so intact. That area had seen so much horror. I learned there had been an earthquake about 12(?) years previous to the eruption that did significant damage to the city. And then of course the eruption. Yet here I was walking on smooth, cart rutted cobblestone. Here I was sitting comfortably on stone seats in a theatre. Here I was walking on the ground where countless gladiators and animals lost their lives. It was a ghost town but it felt like a museum. The horrors felt so far removed. I actually forgot a couple times where I was. In my head, it was just another site. I felt the most emotion when I was reading plaques or listening to my audio guide. 

Side note of a philosophical nature: Does making these historical sites - where so many lives have been lost - into tourist sites honor or detract from the memory of those lost there? 

Pompeii behind us it was time to seek out an area with a different type of heat associated with it. Gone was the lava, ahead was the sun. The island of Ischia called my name and I came bouncing across the sea on a hydrofoil to answer its call. Rosemary bounced along with me and we both breathed sighs of relief when we arrived on shore. I don't usually get sea sick and the waters weren't even that rough but, dang, that ride nearly got me. Then! We took a completely packed bus 30 minutes to the town of Forio. It took me a couple minutes on a bench, head between my knees, to recover from that. Nausea really does compound. 

That being said, the island was everything I wanted and more. I really should blog more often because this island experience should be an entry on its own. 

We didn't book ahead because... well... we just didn't. I think we were already on island time. We arrived to Forio fairly late and without directions to our desired hostel. Totally my bad. I forgot to screen shot the directions. (Another side note: traveling with a smart phone and having wifi all over the place is a completely different experience than traveling without those things.) Rosemary and I scoped desserts at a local bakery and got wifi. Directions screen shotted and we were on our way to nowhere fast because Italy doesn't believe in street signs. Thankfully, the people were super helpful. Multiple people and dark alleys later we arrived to a locked and dark hostel. We banged on the door a few times. Nothing. A few more times and it opened to a nice British girl who informed us that there was no one from the hostel actually working then but that in half an hour someone should show up to take her and the only other hostel guest to dinner. A hostel that hold 50+ to ourselves. Awesome! 

Our ride to dinner arrived on a scooter. He was justifiably surprised to find he now had to transport 4 guests and himself to the restaurant. We were justifiably surprised that he expected two people to jump on the back of his scooter. Especially with only one helmet. He called his boss and informed us, in broken English, that he would be back in 10 with a minibus. Perfect! 10 minutes later the minibus arrived and we hopped in. But! It wouldn't start back up. The battery had died. It then became a game of can we push start this minibus up an inclined 5 foot wide Italian street. Long story short no. Not even with me in the drivers seat trying to pop the clutch into 2nd while accelerating and I don't even know what else... The neighbours came to the rescue after our laughter and our driver's giggled swearing roused them from their abode. 

The ride to the restaurant made me simultaneously wish I had taken the scooter ride and also glad I hadn't. Going 50km on cobblestone streets barely wide enough for the car and taking blind corners on what felt like two wheels with only a toot of the horn or a quick flash of the brights to alert whoever might be speeding equally recklessly towards us is an experience to say the least. We have video. It does not capture rollercoaster driving at all. I loved every second. I'd like to thank Nathan for teaching me to surrender to skilled albeit reckless drivers. 

The restaurant was equally an experience. 4 courses of some of the best food of my life. It has been family run since it started 20 years ago and it shows. We got to help make our pizzas and chatted with various family members as they whizzed around making sure everything was perfect. I can't speak highly enough of that place or the family that runs it. 

Ok. This is getting out of hand. I shall conclude. The next days we went to the beach, tanned, walked, kayaked, cliff jumped, ate (gorged really) and had the run of the hostel. The owners gave us a key and we lived as though we actually owned the place. So relaxed. So fun. 

Now I'm in Rome. The Americans are off to Bari with countless recommendations from us for there and Greece. The French are making it up as they go, as they do. I'm sure we will run into them again. And us. We are relaxing and catching up on all those things you forget when you are running on island time. 

Couldn't be happier. 

Xoxo

Oh I forgot. The Beetlejuice song has been stuck in my and Rosemary's heads basically since we met. Now it gets to be stuck in your head as well. You are welcome. 

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Corfu for You!

I finally made it to an island! (Well I made it there about a week ago... But I'm finally writing about it now...) It was glorious. But first let's flash back to leaving Athens. 

It was a day in Athens in this one month of the year of I'm pretty sure 2014. Time had begun to run together and, let's face it, I don't need to know what day it is anymore. I arrived back from an almost intoxicating time (hahahaha) in Crete and I was ready to move on. I saddled up myself and giddy upped off to the train station. Naturally I took a few wrong turns along the way, but this ol' gal don't baulk easily. I stayed true and hitched myself up to the next train to Patra. 

The train/bus ride was easily passed listening to stellar musical selections provided to yours truly by the all knowing musical mysticism of Derek Wilson. I had a genuine, heart felt smile on my face and in my heart for the first time in a Greecian while and I was ready for anything. 

A selection of everything is what I got. I arrived in Patra to a sever lack of information points, hostels and wifi. After finding myself a "Canadian Burger" (cold burger topped with a fried egg, way too much mayo, potentially a tomato and some bacon/ham...), I resolved to venture forth to the beautiful island of Zakynthos. Yes, you should google it. I'll wait. 

Welcome back. While you were googling I discovered the going to Zakynthos in the winter is ill advised. Ya, we are both sad I couldn't go there. No matter I decided to go to Olympia. The birthplace of the Olympics. But again, 'twas not meant to be. The crisis put a serious halt to a lot of transport services and getting to Olympia was going to prove too expensive. The fact that only hotels were open didn't help either. 

Plan C! Corfu! What's that you say most helpful ferry information lady? I just missed the ferry? All good. I'll just take the bus to Igoumenitsa and the ferry from there. Back to the bus station and I learn that -- hold onto your hats for this one folks -- there is no bus to Igoumenista. 

But! In 8 hours, there is a bus to the island of Corfu. The bus goes from Patra to Igoumenista where it doesn't have an official stop but is forced to stop so that you can get off the bus and by a ferry ticket. Then the bus you were just on, that didn't really stop, gets onto the ferry. It makes the voyage to Corfu with you and then upon arrival to the island takes you to the bus station less than 5 minutes away. 

The bus dumped me at the station bleary eyed and barely awake at 5am. Naturally all the hostels on the island were closed. I managed to get directions to a cheap hotel and by 8am was snuggled into bed for a proper rest. The rest as they say is blissful beach and sun history. 

I spent three days on the island. I went to a proper pebble beach the first day. On the second day I discovered an adorable inlet with free lounge chairs, a place to swim, and far more privacy than the pebble beach provided. I tanned and read the first half of Wool by Hugh Howey. The third day I tanned and swam and finished the book. I also returned to the mainland and stowed myself away on a ferry to the illustrious and anticipated Italia! 

Now folks, Greece was a good time - don't get me wrong. But the transport and one to many run arounds had me looking for a change of scenery. Corfu was that blissful change. After spending time there, I knew I could leave Greece with a cheerful outlook. 

'Twas with this sunny disposition that I boarded the Superfast 1 overnight ferry to Bari, Italy. Within 20 minutes of boarding, I was shining even more with a free meal and a free 350ml bottle of white wine in front of me. My good fortune continued when I found a long couch on which to sleep away most of the 10 hour ferry ride. Finding a place to lay down and sleep is often difficult on night ferries and it's a real blessing when you snag a spot. 

I arrived in Bari too early to check into my hostel but the lovely hosts at The Little Olive Tree stored my bags and have me a map to explore. This hostel has definitely been one of my favourites. The couple that run it are by far the nicest and most knowledgable hostel owners I have ever met. If you are ever in Bari, The Little Olive Tree is the hostel for you. 

The town of Bari itself is quiet normal. There are beautiful churches, cute shops, and a random fort or two. I did three things in the city itself that are of note. First, I visited Saint Nicolas' church. It is huge, gorgeous, and has his remains in the basement. I found it amusing that in Febuary I sat on Sants Claus' lap and in March I visited his tomb. Well not Santa's tomb exactly but the saints for which he was named. Second thing I did was eat Foccacia. Oh did I eat Foccacia. Foccacia is a pizza made with olive oil, salt and tomatoes. It's my new favourite food. Our hosts told us about two tiny little mom and pop restaurants were you can get a whole pizza for $3. It was the only I ate while in Bari. Well Foccocia and gelato. Which brings me to the third thing of note. Gelato. Now we all know how much I love sweets but gelato takes it to a new level. We found a homemade gelato shop. Maria, I tried to heed your warning that gelato is dangerously delicious. I couldn't resist. I think I've had it 3 times in the last 3 days... This trend is dangerous. 

The first day in Bari I also met the Canadian girl I'm going to be traveling with for a few days. We spent the better part of two full days together day tripping in the Bari area. We went to Grotte de Castellana. A cave system with fascinating stalactites and stalacmites. I knew I should have paid more attention in science class. It would have come in handy because the tour was conducted only in Italian. Regardless, it was worth the time and money. We capped that day with a stroll through Alberobello. The town has over 1,500 Trulli/Trullo and is a World Heritage Site. A trulli is building with a roof of stone constructed without using any mortar. These buildings have been standing for ages and some are still inhabited. They have a distinct kind of charm that only years of history can bring.

Today Rosemary (my Canadian friend) and I along with a German girl, Lisa, from our hostel went to the town of Matera. Pretty please to take the time to google this place. It is another World Heritage Site I believe. Or it sure should be. It is one of the longest inhabited sites in the world. It is characterised by it's unique architecture of houses carved into cliffs and essentially stacked upon one another. We took a long walk through the city to the ravine and then climbed though caves and hills for a couple hours to a panorama that tops my chart of beautiful views. I'm going to post some pictures but I know they will not do that place justice. 

Now Rosemary and I are on a train to Naples. We have decided to travel together for the next few days. I'm contemplating going south to Sicily after Naples but as usual haven't really decided. Rosemary is leaning towards heading north. We shall see what happens. Such is the freedom of long trips with poorly defined timelines. 

May my uplifted spirit uplift yours. 

Xoxo

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

A is for All things Athens

Well friends. I shall catch you up. If you have been following Facebook, you'll know the juicy bit comes at the end of this blog. If you haven't been following, it's not juicy enough to skip to the end. Let's move forward word by single word together! 

So! I left Thessaloniki about a week or so ago and trained off to Mount Olympus. Three Germans from my hostel and Mr. Hare also accompanied me. It wasn't the nicest of days but we managed to make it halfway up route E4 before deciding to turn around. I can see why the ancient Greeks claimed this place to be the house of the gods. The mountain range rises majestically out off the grassy plateau that eases into the sea. The mountains are mostly exposed stone and have that imposing solemn strength that mountains tend to have. We hiked along a glacier fed section of rapids through forest and rock to a stunning lookout. There we scampered slightly off trail to take our pictures from on top of the world. This is where the weather decided to get a bit feistier. Perhaps Zeus was displeased with our presence? Haha. We turned back and I'm glad we did. When we arrived back in town we looked back to see dark raining clouds descend on where we had just been. 

In the small town of Litochoro, I bid my friends goodbye and set off for Athens. Thanks to a stellar ticket lady I even managed to switch my ticket to an earlier one and made it to Athens by 10:30pm. My hostel wasn't far from the train station and I only counted 8 policemen during my 10 minute walk there. 

My first day in Athens was spent wandering with a couple people from my hostel. We went on a self guided walking tour using the one guys guide book. It was a great time to get myself settled and aquainted with the city. I quickly moved on to other lodging however. My friend from the hostel in Istanbul had a spare room for me. It felt like home and I am very grateful to him and his roommates for allowing me to stay with them. 

The next few days are a blur. I usually left the house around 11am and returned around 8pm. I saw every single ruin in Athens. Or maybe it just felt that way. Naturally the Acropolis was the most impressive. The view from up there is stunning and the Parthenon is imposing. It was also under repair which was cool and distracting at the same time.

After about 5 days in Athens I decided to take off to Crete to relax on a beach and try out couch surfing. ("Oh goody", I can hear you say, "here comes the drama!" Here it comes indeed) 

First, I think I picked the wrong island. After 9 hours on the ferry I arrived to predominantly rock beaches and overcast weather. "No matter" I told myself, "it's a huge island and I am headed an hour away from here to a tiny resort town. Surely it will be better." False. 

I arrived to an unsurprising lack of a couch surfing host. I had forgotten to message him to say I arrived while I was still at the port. Again I said "No matter. It's a resort town. They will have wifi". False. It was a Sunday morning during the winter season. After 30 minutes of searching I found wifi and connected with my host. He arrived 30 minutes after that. 

Now my friends, I have always said trust your spidey senses. I have not found a better method for keeping myself out of trouble to date. When my host arrived, I will admit my senses tingled but I thought it was just the natural awareness that comes from being in a strange place with a stranger. He was very nice and welcomed me warmly. Besides, he had a flawless set of recommendations on couch surfing. I felt I had done my research. We grabbed fresh orange juice at a barely open cafe and headed off to see where I would be crashing. 

His place is a ramshackle hotel that has an adorable charm. I had an entire suite, complete with jacuzzi, to myself. Stellar. I definitely thought I hit the jack pot. He made me brunch. Delicious. We went to see the local historical cave where during the war with the Turks the villagers seeking refuge there were betrayed for money and burned alive. Dark. Definitely. Historical. No doubt. Beautiful mountain. Absolutely. Good host. I'd say yes. At this point. 

When we returned to his place it got strange ish. He quickly poured us drinks despite my insistence that I don't drink and despite the fact that it was 11am. We played cards and when he noticed I wasn't drinking Raki, he brought me two 2 litre bottles of homemade wine. I was uncomfortable but able to ignore my drinks under the pretense of playing cards. I eventually begged out claiming to be tired from my ferry ride and grabbed a long nap. When I came back down it was time for supper. Naturally paid for by him, at a restaurant, with multiple shots, and multiple glasses of wine. I got really good at saying "no I don't drink" and he got really persistent with "you're on vacation you must!"

The ride home was when I started seriously figuring out my exit strategy. He plied me with compliments, promises of more drinks and insisted in a half joking manner that we have a full moon party. Just the two of us.

No thank you. 

Wits and politeness about me I fended of all comments as jokes and only really got snippy 2 or 3 times. By 11pm I had had enough. I claimed to be tired and barricaded, literally, myself in my room. The night passed uneventfully. I slept fitfully. Exit strategy always in my mind. Never have I been so thankful for the little amount of self defense I know. 

Now I know what you are thinking "Julia, why didn't you just leave and stay somewhere else?" Believe me I wanted to. But the thing about tiny resort towns in Greece in the winter is that no one lives there. And nothing is open. 

In the morning I was off. I 100% needed to see a museum in Heraklion (the port city an hour away) and I 100% needed to be back in Athens to visit a friend. I don't like to lie to people but in this situation I sure did. No regrets. 

By noon I was on the bus putting kilometre after beautiful kilometre between us. I arrived safely in Heraklion. Bought a ticket and hunkered down to wait til the 9pm departure. 

Now I should give my host a bit of a defense here. By no means is what he did or how he made me feel excusable. But I do believe that cultural differences and a slight language barrier didn't help the situation. In the morning before I left, he apologized if he made me uncomfortable. He stated he was making jokes and he realized I might not have understood. He offered to host me again any time, he said he would pay for me to visit from Athens in the next few days or even buy me a ticket to Santorini. I think his heart was mostly pure. But I still believe he would have preferred a drunker and wilder encounter with me than he got. 

I am incredibly thankful that I came out of that situation so cleanly. Thanks to 25 years of non drinking to keep me sober and alert. Thanks to Brenna for going all Momma Bear and ensuring she knew where I was. Thanks to jail for teaching me "pie plates to the beach", it amused me to think that phrase and settled me to remember that I am strong. Thanks to a year in New Zealand full of meeting wonderful people randomly to remind me that people are mostly good. And thanks to God for keeping a careful eye on me the whole time. 

Now I'm back in Athens. I'll be staying with my incredible host and his roomies again. Tomorrow I'm moving on. I've decided that winter is no time to see the Greek islands and my time is better spent adventuring through the western mainland. I'll likely even make it to Italy early now. That's sweet by me. 

Now you are up to date. I can't say it enough -- I love you guys. I missed you all dearly in the last day. I'm very excited to continue traveling but I'm also just a touch more grateful for the pure awesome I will return home to in June. 

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Greekings!

Greekings everyone! 

Yes my friends, I have made it to the land of the Greeks. My bus trip from Sofia to Thessaloniki was comfortable and relatively quick. I arrived at the train station (apparently train stations are also for buses in Eastern Europe...?) which was really nice for me as my city bus to my hostel left from the train station but not the bus station. Thus, I saved myself some valuable time that I spent lounging in my crazy cute and comfy hostel. My hostel Little Big House is situated up on the hillside of Thessaloniki just above the new town line and just below the old city walls. It's a great location because it's within walking distance of everything but it's in a cosy residential section so it's quiet. 

I was greeted by possibly the happiest person on the planet, Vicky the hostel owner. I was given a map and a cup of tea, shown to my room, and then left to my own devices. I won't lie to you. I wasn't overly excited about my stop in Thessaloniki. I really didn't know what to expect and I was anxious to get moving to Mount Olympus. But! As seems to be my style, I liked what I heard about the city and promptly decided to stay for an extra night. 

My first day here I made friends with a group of camping Germans who had forsaken the surprisingly frozen mountains for warmer and more urban adventures. We snagged two Dutch boys on the way out of the hostel and headed out into the city. We went wandering the university campus and ended up at a Greek underground hip hop club. We didn't understand a word but we all recognized the passion and talent of the rappers performing. After we had our fill of music, we searched out some tasty midnight snacks to fill our stomachs and wandered the city.

I, the only non drinker, was quickly declared the tour guide and put to work. Who knew that I knew so much about Thessaloniki?! Certainly not me. But that didn't stop me from regailing my new found German and Dutch friends with tales of fantastically dressed drunk monks, terrible prisons, an accidentally drowned bride to be and inukshuks. I can confidently say I had no one fooled and it was all complete nonsense. Except for the inukshuks part. That I actually knew. 

Today we slept in as we only got to bed around 4:30am last night. Around 1:30pm we set off to learn more about the Byzantine culture of the area. The museum we visited was nice. I enjoyed it even though we were a bit rushed. The museum closed at 3 and we arrived at 2. The Byzantines have had a large impact on the countries of Eastern Europe and an especially large impact in the Balkan region. 

This was made even more clear when at 4 we joined a free walking tour arranged for us by our hostel host. Our guide was perhaps the most historically knowledgable man I have ever met. (Sorry David, he might out knowledge even you!) He showered us in history and when we were soaked he rinsed us off with a little more. The general overview is this: Thessaloniki has been occupied and liberated about 4 times. In nearly every instance there was a significant amount of death and destruction of property, yet reminents of each era remain. Thus the city is a diverse mix of people groups with centuries of history and a diverse collection of buildings and architectures. It makes for a crazy labirynth of streets and shops where the most significant landmarks are shambling ruins from thousands of years ago. 

I will share a couple brief segments of the tour that caught my attention. The first story is of chariot racing. There was once a very popular racer who was banned from racing in a tournament in Thessaloniki by the head guard at the venue. The people were so outraged by this ban that they murdered the guard. The emperor, who it turns out was very good friends with the slain guard, responded quickly. He invited the people to a special racing event. When everyone arrived, he had the doors of the venue sealed and all 7,000 men, women, and children killed. He later confessed and repented of this atrocity to a priest who denied him entry to the church because of his grievous sin. 

The second story is of Saint Paul. Those of us with Christian backgrounds know that Paul came to Thessaloniki and preached here. Today I stood in a monastery where he is said to have once stayed and looked across the sprawling city to the church where it is said that he hid away and enjoyed his last view of the city before he fled an imminent stoning. Thessalonians are sometimes referred to as "Paul Cursed" because Paul shamed them in one of his letters for threatening to kill him. 

The last bit I found interesting was about the architecture in the area of the city where my hostel is situated. As my guide put it, the modern Thessalonians had no respect for their history and were tearing down old and historical buildings with no regard to their cultural values. Thus in, I think..., the 1940's a law was passed that made it illegal to tear down the existing buildings. It also required that any new buildings constructed follow the arichtectural style of the neighbourhood. And also that the new buildings not be more than three stories high. These laws are still in effect today. Unfortunately, due to economic problems many people cannot afford to maintain these old homes and keep them up to code. So they abandon them and wait for nature to take it's course. Once the building collapses of it's own free will, they are able to clear the lot and use it for whatever they may choose. Until the economy rebounds, this neighbourhood will likely become slowly more abandoned. It's a real shame as the area is lovely, the view is stunning, and the people are being displaced from family properties. 

The Crisis, as the bankruptcy of Greece is being termed, is something I know very little about. In fact I actually feel slightly uncomfortable in claiming the previous sentence to be totally correct. I can say though that the crisis has had a large impact on Greece and this student city. There is graffiti everywhere, there have been small riots, and the police are making their presence known. When I planned this trip I knew that Greece was not in the best shape, but being me I didn't do any research into what that meant. Now that I am here I am sure I will learn what the crisis really is and how it is effecting the Greek people. Walking around there are many abandoned businesses and the amount of graffiti is truly stunning. I have yet to see a building that hasn't been marred by spray paint. But there is hope. Some of the graffiti is beautiful. There are still many open and, I think, thriving businesses. And the people, as frustrated as they may be, still smile as they walk down the street. I am already taken with this country and I wish good things for it in the future. If 300: The Rise of an Empire taught me anything, it is that the Greeks do not give up. 

Tomorrow I hope to channel that Greek tenacity as I will be hiking a section of Mount Olympus. Two lovely German girls from the hostel will be joining me. After the hike I'll be heading to Athens where I hope to meet up with a friend I made in my hostel in Istanbul. There's even a chance he will have a spare room for me to crash in. 

Life is good my friends. Xoxo

Friday, March 7, 2014

Sofia, my love, you are beautiful.

On my last night in Istanbul Mr. Hare took me out to a lovely dinner at our favourite Turkish restaurant, Medina. Mr. Hare is a handmade stuffed rabbit who has a thirst for world travel and has kindly agreed to traverse with me across Europe. We had 22 Turkish Lev to spend on dinner and we feasted. On a previous visit to Medina we made friends with staff and management and they made sure that our last visit was a good one.

After dinner it was off to the train station to catch a bus. Yes you read that right. Our bus departed at 10pm. We met up with our train around midnight and happily transferred to our couchette for the rest of the journey. We had been led to believe that we would arrive in Sofia, Bulgaria at either 10am or 12:30pm. In fact we arrived at 4:30pm. Wiley, a Canadian I met in Sochi while ticket hunting for the gold medal hockey game, met us at the Sofia train station and our Bulgaria adventures began. 

Wiley is living in Bulgaria and coaching hockey with Hockey Without Borders. Through him we acquired accommodation. On my first night in Sofia, Wiley and I went on an intellectual and cultural pubcrawl. We visited 4 different culturally significant local watering holes. Our guides graced us with information about each location. The coolest part for me was how hidden and treasured these bars are. Two of the four were tucked away so discretely that it actually appeared you were entering someone's home rather than a bar. My favourite stop was called The Apartment. It is actually an old apartment that has been turned into an artist hangout where drinks are also served. You can go to this "bar" and play instruments with your friends, premier homemade movies, play card games, read books, and discuss events. It is purposefully kept a secret to preserve the intention of the gathering area. 

Before I continue with my blog about my Sofia adventures, I would like to take a brief moment to clarify my new relationship with alcohol. As many of you reading know, until a few days before I left Canada I had never drank alcohol. This decision was my own and very multifaceted. I was and am still proud of those 25 years of sobriety. I decided to begin consuming alcohol so that I could experience all the cultures I encountered in Europe fully and with the knowledge that I was not putting myself into danger. Since I have been traveling I have tried beers, a few wines, some vodka and some local alcohols. I want to be very clear. I do not get drunk. I am surprised if I can finish a whole beer. I have found that I do not enjoy the taste of alcohol. Even more than that, I greatly dislike how alcohol makes me feel. I am an extreme lightweight. Half a beer and I start to feel sick to my stomach, I get a headache, and I get dizzy. I have found that I am actually less fun and social if I am drinking. Therefore, it is my new and informed choice to stay relatively clear of alcohol as I travel. I will still remain open to experiencing cultural traditions that I encounter but alcohol will play as minimal a role as possible. Thanks for listening. It is important to me that I am not misrepresenting myself. 

My second day in Sofia sparked my love affair with this city. Wiley and I went on a historical tour and a food tour of the city. Both tours (and the pubcrawl) are run by Free Sofia Tours. They are exceptionally well done and due to them I saw the beauty of Sofia. Please take a look at my Facebook for pictures and history of what we saw. 

Our next day was filled with more walking, more museums and churchs and history. I loved every minute. Those pics will hopefully be going up soon. 

Throughout my stay here I have also endulged in local cuisine. Bulgarians make extremely tasty food. Highlights for my have been the desserts and cheeses. I knew I liked cheese before this place. Now I know I love cheese. And Bulgarians make the best cheese I have ever tasted in my life. I said I would miss the Сырок in Russia, I think I will miss the cheese of Bulgaria even more. 

Today Wiley and I went to Plovdiv, another Bulgarian city. We took the Free Plovdiv Tour and were equally informed and impressed by it. Plovdiv is older than Sofia and for me it's almost as beautiful. True we had some rain today which always puts a damper on sight seeing but I think even on a sunny day Sofia would shine more. 

I have picked up a couple Bulgaria souvenirs so far. My first purchase was a game I was introduced to on the pubcrawl. It's called Jungle Speed and it's awesome. I can't wait to introduce it to people as I travel. Along with Dutch Blitz naturally. My second purchase was made today. I bought a delicious rose water perfume. Bulgaria is famous for its rose water. This perfume will make me famous in Saskatoon for smelling good. 

So we are nearly home from Plovdiv. I have been writing this as we drive. Bulgarians drive like mad men and writing this has kept me distracted from imminent death. Tonight, should I survive the rest of this ride, will likely be spent in more research. Wiley and I saw Pompeii the other night to prep me for my first stop in Italy. Tonight we will probably see 300: Rise of the Empire in preparation for Greece. 

Ok. We are home. Snuggles from Bulgaria.


Saturday, March 1, 2014

Trying Something New

This is going to be a baby blog. Just a little tiny one to test the new app I've discovered. I did a quick search on apps for Blogger and it turns out that there indeed is an app for that. 

Today was another eventful day. We were up and at 'em around 10am for breakfast. The hostel provides a tasty breakfast of bread, cheese, sour cherry jam, butter, olives, tomatoes, cucumbers, a boiled egg and tea or coffee. It's not what I'm used to in either Canada or Russia. During the Olympics we ate tiny crepés and yogurt, in Canada it's a sausage and egg breakfast sandwich on a biscuit from Tim's. Anyway! We ate and were off to the Basilica Cistern. We were supposed to meet our new Anerican friends but missed them by about 10 minutes. The Basilica was stunning. It's basically just a huge cave with pillars and water. Oh and mood lighting. The coolest part for me was the Medusa heads that are in the back corner. One is upside down (so naturally we shared a Spiderman kiss) and the other is placed sideways. There are a couple myths surrounding why the heads are there but no one really knows for sure. I think the mystery adds to the allure. 

After the Basilica we went to Hagia Sofia. Neither Polina nor I knew anything about it so we bought the audio guide. Man do they ever give you a lot of information. The building was far more impressive on the inside and the history of the building was far more impressive than I expected. If I understand correctly, it's been torn down, modified, burned, added to, remodelled, changed from Christian church, to school, to mosque, to museum, and more. I had two favourite spots. One on each floor of the building. On the main floor I enjoyed the Wishing Column. Legend states a few things about this column. First an angel was supposed to protect it and the tools used to build the structure at some point. Then a saint or prophet was buried inside of it. Then some other dude blessed it. And at some point someone also stuck their thumb in it, swivelled their wrist around and in doing rotated the whole building so that it faced the correct direction. Now it is believed if you stick your thumb in and swivel your wish will come true. I stuck and swivelled but forgot to wish... Oops. My second favourite spot was on the second floor. There was once a sarcophagus in one corner containing the remains of a leader of the 4th Crusade. One time when Istanbul was seized the conquers entered Hagia Sofia, saw this sarcophagus, got mad and threw his remains out the window. I found that terribly amusing. 

Right. This is shaping up to be more extensive than I thought. Time to wrap it up...

After Hagia Sofia we went for a delicious lunch were we finally caught up with the boys. It was nice to just sit and chat. They work for the US Organizing Committee for the Olympics and such so we chatted about our experiences in Sochi. They too had a wonderful time. We decided that Sochi (and perhaps Russia) operated in a chaos til start kinda way. Everything seemed to be up in the air but when it came to go time everything went mostly smoothly. 

We went with the boys to Blue Mosque which was stunning on both the inside and out. The super low chandeliers made me feel really tall. The enormity of the structure made me feel quite small. The amount of work that went into that building shows a tenacity of people that I am not sure exists anymore. 

Our stroll out of the Blue Mosque took us to Topkapi Palace but alas it was closed. Here we parted with the guys and carried on to another early closing museum which we went able to view. But! We knew the Grand Bazaar was open and nearby. Our trusty feet got us there and through the labirynth of shops. I haggled for a scarf with a shop keeper who was the most friendly and happily rude man I've ever met. We left satisfied in my purchase but unsure if we should be insulted or amused by the conversation. 

Returning to the hostel we acquired new friends who accompanied us out to a extremely delicious and cultural meal. Our food came out in a flaming clay jar that was broken very percisely. The chef even threw the flames down the street. The experience alone was worth what we paid and the tasty food seemed like a bonus. More friends arrived and dessert called to me. I had a chocolate banana crepé that I will dream of tonight. Then it was a tiny stroll, more lounging, and back home to bed. 

Now I'm writing a no longer baby blog to you and wishing I was sleeping. Luckily I've run out of things to stay and sleep I shall. 

Here's to you! Now let me get some sleep. 
Love, love, love. 

Friday, February 28, 2014

Playing Catch Up

Hey everyone,

Well I've suffered through and am happy to report that it only took 25 minutes for my computer to open Mozilla and then open this lovely website so that I could share with you. I'm counting that as a serious win. I do want to apologize for the space between blogs. It's a fight worth fighting and I'll do battle more frequently on your behalf.

Let me attempt to catch you up.

Weeks ago I was in the throws of the Olympic experience. Work in the village was standard and I started making friends with the athletes. It continued to amaze me how they could be so normal and yet so elite. I guess people are really just people when it comes down to it. The Canadian bobsled team was one of the first groups that I met. There I was just minding my own business by nosily saying hello to every person who walked by and demanding to see their accreditation as they entered the cafeteria when I look up from one ID to none other than Graeme Rinholm. Now. I'll have you know this is a big deal. Graeme graduated from my high school just a year or two before me and actually conducted my application interview. Mouth agape I said "Oh my goodness! It's Graeme!". To which he replied, "Yup" and kept walking. I yelled after him, "It's Julia! From RJC!". He looked confused and grabbed a food tray. I'll have you know I was shocked. How dare he just saunter by like that. He should have at least feigned interest in my unexpected appearance in Russia, in Sochi, at the Olympics, in the athlete's village, in the athlete's dining hall, at the exact moment he was. But no. Alas! He didn't remember me. Oh well, it happens. 10 minutes later he came back and apologized. He said I looked familiar but he hadn't been able to place me. We shared a good laugh and I met the bobsled teams. Graeme was attending the Olympics as an alternate athlete. Due to the crash during the Games, he was actually able to race. I am incredibly proud of his accomplishment. And I thank him for making the Games that much more memorable and special for me.

Naturally the Canadians weren't the only ones I met. The Jamaician bobsled team was true to expectations and hilarious. The Brits had the most adorable and kind skeleton racer. The Irish were a feisty lot. Australia brought me a lovely lady who reminded me a lot of Patrice. The Brazilians promised to look for me in Rio. The French enjoyed my attempts at speaking French. The Latvians brought a man with the most piercing blue eyes (I never did get the courage to tell him they were stunning). I could go on and on. Everyone was friendly and happy.

Outside of work, our little international clan was growing closer and beginning to incorporate more and more Russians. When we first arrived, I will admit that we English speakers clung together a little bit. But by the end of the games, we were just as likely to sit with Russian friends as international ones. Our work and village brought us together out of sheer situation but the Olympic spirit of cooperation and friendship made us connect on a personal level. Language barriers couldn't stop us. Indeed they often provided us laughter and made our conversations that much more meaningful in the first few weeks. As the Games progressed our Russian counterparts became more confident in their English and us internationals began to adopt more Russian. We also had opportunities to just hangout with each other. As I previously wrote, the Russians quickly took to Dutch Blitz and our friendship circle expanded that way. Most of the people that we worked with also lived in the village of Vesoloye so we saw each other at meals and often ventured out to buy sweets together. The olympic organization also gifted volunteers free tickets through out the Games to events that didn't sell out. I had the pleasure to go watch Alpine Skiing with Oksana. I really enjoyed that one on one connection time.

Speaking of events -- I attended the Snowboard Slope-style competition the day before the Games officially started and also the Apline Ski near the end of the Games. Most importanty/excitingly/extensively/Canadianly I was able to attend 4 Canadian Olympic hockey games. I watched Canada vs. Finland (which I had purchased tickets for). I watched Canada vs Austria due to my most wonderful friend Chad. I watched Canada vs Latvia due to a generous Russian man who gave me a free ticket. And... drum roll please... I watched the Canada vs Sweden GOLD MEDAL GAME! I jokingly stated in one of my interviews that I was a good luck charm for Canada. Well it's less joke and more reality. I have empirical proof people. I purchased my Canada Gold Medal Game ticket and rushed off to get my camera. Naturally my nature and the nature of Russia colluded and I arrived at the game late. I shimmied into my seat, turned to my friend and asked "How are we doing?". "It doesn't look good," he replied, "We are getting dominated". "Don't fear, momma's here" I responded. Three minutes later we had our first goal and there was no doubt who was going to come out on top. So. You're welcome Canada. :)

What else should I tell you!? These blogs are so much easier if you write as you go. This experience has been an incredible vivid blur. I guess this also leaves some mystery for you folks back home. Haha. You'll still have to ask me about my trip.

I guess I'll just talk about now. Right now I'm sitting in Istanbul. I arrived late last night and got to my hostel with little trouble.The city is stunning. If you ever decide to come to Istanbul, stay at the Istanbul Hostel and follow their directions on how to get to there. Also, arrive around sunset. I got off the metro around 9pm. It was dark except for the Agia Sofia lit up on my left and the Blue Mosque shinning on my right. It was overwhelming. As you might have guessed, the hostel is in an incredibly central location. I am blocks away from Blue Mosque, Agia Sofia and the Basilica Cistern is only one block further.

Polina arrived safely last night and we spent most of today walking around. We toured Topkapi Palace and the Istanbul Archaeology Museums. The palace was huge which I suppose is to be expected. It was opulent and yet comfortable. Don't worry, I'll have pics up (hopefully) soon. Then we had a scrumptious lunch at a stunning cafe near the palace. So many veggies. I missed those over the last month. After lunch we sauntered back to the hostel to grab an extra layer and then headed out to the Spice Market. It wasn't nearly as crazy as I expected but I loved every second. We even got to eat some free samples. Tasty. Even tastier were the mini donuts we found and devoured. Note to Canada; ground pistachios on mini donuts is a thing. It's a very good thing. Fat camp continued -- Oh! I should tell you about Fat Camp. Side bar Your Honour this is important. During the Olympics we walked insane amounts. Up hills, down hills, around hill, thru hills. We climbed sets of stairs like it weren't no thang. But it was. Cause no matter how you step it 900 stairs in a row is a lot. Hence, we lovingly refer to the walking aspect of our experience as Fat Camp. So! Fat Camp continued for Polina and I today as I'm fairly certain we walked over 25kms up hills, down hill, around hills, and thru hills. And we encountered some stairs. Haha. It was great. (Freedom friends, I might actually come back relatively in shape). Our stair count was some what diminished when decided to skip the Galata Tower due to cost. Though it may have had an elevator... In any case we still walked to it.

I'm trying to think of a witty way to sign off but it's simply not coming to me. I think tonight I'll just say good night and sweet dreams.

Sleepily yours,
Julia



Saturday, February 8, 2014

This is surreal.

As I type this, I am sitting in the volunteer village cafeteria with roughly 100 Russian and international volunteers watching the Biathalon. Cheers erupt every time a Russian athlete appears on screen. I literally stopped typing for a few minutes just now because the room was full of cheers urging a Russian athlete to cross the finish line in first place. He missed it by 4 seconds or so. The room groaned with disappointment. Not to worry though. There are multiple other Russian athletes to urge forth. Every time cheering erupts I catch myself thinking it's odd. Why is everyone cheering for this strange man? There is no Canadian on screen. And then I remember. I'm in Russia. Watching Olympic events that are taking place mere kilometers, mere minutes away from me. I am here. This is surreal.

The last couple days my brain has been orbiting on a mind blowing loop. Things have started to feel comfortable here. I know the bus system, trains, etc. I have friends and my room contains my stuff arranged in the order I like. My job is second nature. And then I see the rings, or the row of flags, perhaps an athlete tramps by with all their gear talking about their upcoming competitions. Instantly I am pulled into the shocking revelation that this is not just another day. This is the Sochi 2014 Olympic Games. I am here. This is surreal. But surreal quickly fades to the usual, that is, until it becomes unusual again. Today one of my good friends here witnessed in person an Olympic record get set in speed skating. I have no doubt that she was also the happy victim of this mind warp. Yesterday, two of my friends went to the Opening Ceremonies on tickets gifted to them. Minds. Blown. I watched the Opening Ceremonies rehearsal in person surrounded by thousands of Russian and international volunteers and then 6 days later watched official production on TV surrounded again by thousands of Russian and international volunteers. I have no way to express what I felt when they lit the torch. This is surreal.

I can only imagine how the athletes feel. They too have settled in. They have found their ways around. They are surrounded by friends that they have trained with and competed against for years. Their training programs are completely memorized. And then, they see their names on a competition list, they find themselves standing at the top of a hill looking down on the Olympic Rings and the athlete's village nestled into the hill. Never mind the moment when they stand at the top of their run counting down the seconds til countless years of training culminate into that one, all important run. Everything is the same. Everything is completely different. Mind blown. This is surreal.

How does one capture this experience? I don't know. You try to remain in each moment. Try to keep yourself from growing accustom to this place and all that it means. You try to capture what you can in countless photos (thank God for digital cameras). You talk to everyone about what you have seen, heard, and felt. Somehow all these things make it feel more real. If you can, you scrounge up enough time and energy to write a blog for your friends and family back home. It's not enough -- it's all we have.

This is surreal.