Aussie Friends and Amsterdam!

For right now, I'm giong to jumpt around chronologically and focus on my friends, the Australians. I just need a little distance from Copenhagen to separate the city from my bad mood that plagued my experience of it... Anyway, I mentioned in one of my first posts that there are so many Australians traveling in Europe. Fortunately, I met a few in Munich who are outstanding people--apart from the fact they make fun of my accent and make me feel like the super American, which I really don't think I am. But they make me feel it.

Munich, like I said before, was phenominal, made even better by the friends I met there. I can even say "friends" because I've managed to meet up with then in other cities--the friendship has lasted longer than 24 hours and more than just one city. Very, very impressive for a trip of this nature.

Adventures with Australians Part 1: Neuschwanstein Castle!!!
I am not ashamed to admit that the only reason I visited Munich was to see Neuschwanstein Castle: the castle built by King Ludwig II before he went crazy and mysteriously died, but maybe better known as the castle Walt Disney used as the model for the castle used in his theme parks and graphic used before his animated films. I managed to rope Brendan, Amy (both Melbourne) and Lily (Sydney) into coming along with me and we have a fantastic 4 hours together in trains and buses and then about 4 hours hiking up to the castle, seeing the sites and having a delicious late lunch of soup. A crew was formed.

Adventures with an Australian Part 2: 9 Hour Berlin Tour...
I may have mentioned this tour in the Berlin post, but it was outside and absolutely freezing. Led by this old man who knows EVERYTHING historically linked about Berlin. I learned a whole lot (probably forgot a whole bunch more), but survived this with Brendan. Evern after I had dealt with loss of functioning hands for about 30 minutes, which was actually incredibly scaring, Brendan helped motivate me to finish the tour because there can't be that much left....Well worth the 12 euro, and he even got some good pictures of me faux-eating a large chocolate sculpture of the an important building in Berlin...

Adventures with an Australian Part 3: Amsterdam with Amy!!!
After each suffering less than desirable traveling and hosteling experiences, Amy and I decided we needed each other in Amsterdam. Together, we managed to see the Van Gogh Museum, stumble upon the red light district and China town, got lost more than is reasonable while actually using a map AND replenished our wardrobes at H&M (hereby refered to as the premiere backpacker's paradise). I could honestly say that without Amy here in Amsterdam, I probably would have caved and booked a flight back to Chicago.

There is something to be said for having someone to share traveling experiences with or question the same things about situations you are put into. Just as you can strain a friendship if you spend too much time with that person (roommate friendships gone awry, for example), being around no one but yourself ALL THE TIME can have a similar effect. So, THANKS SO MUCH AMY!!! for spending Amsterdam with me and keeping me here to fall in love with the canals, winding alleys and feel of Amsterdam. Now who wants to move here with me? For real.

History and the Underbelly of Berlin

Berlin is an amazing city, one filled with a visible history that actually embodies all of the senses and an artistic underbelly that may be shaded from the public view, but gives clues to its existence for those who look.

The first day I was in Berlin I took a full day history tour with a bloke who worked in British intellegence during the war and lived in Berlin before, during and after the Berlin wall. He even claims he rode a bicycle down a section of the wall right before it came down. It is alarming how obvious Berlin has been marked by its past. There is a double cobblestone line that marks where the wall was that still demonstrates the divide between East and West Berlin. As scary as it is, one of the cabbies I hired to help find my way back into my Eastern Berlin hostel spoke of Berlin as if the wall was still up. That East Berlin is full of communists and the fare differences between staying in West Berlin or driving over into the East. Scary stuff. For so many of us, it is difficult to imagine how a war can shape the physical landscape of a country or city so permanently. Berlin has blocks of recently built structures that are only new because there was nothing left after WWII, but these structures so how Berlin is trying to heal and rebuild. Then, there are also permanent scars, such as the monuments and maintained WWII structures that show how somethings will never heal, will never build new flesh.

Through the clearly evident healing gashes and remaining scars that make up this city, there is also a shaded alternative part that reveals itself through the street art that fills the underpasses and alleys of Berlin. If you keep an eye out, you can find the multitude of 6's and internet lingo that fills any space that needs to be reconstructed or painted over, and the little girl killing her cat in creative ways; both are trademarks of well-known street artists. This is the side of Berlin that has thrown up its hands and demands attention for the Berlin that was and still may be, the side that really doesn't give a f--- (yes, family and coworkers, this is really the only way to put it). Berlin may fall under the EU's indoor smoking ban, but that doesn't stop bars from providing ashtrays or people from smoking isnide. Illegality also doesn't stop artists from pasting up their artwork, painting their crew's symbol on the city's walls and roofs or from squatting abandoned department stores to provide a free space for any artist to produce any type of art. Berlin is in many ways daring and unashamed.

Both sides are incredibly compelling, but also unnerving. To have someone point out Hitler's bunker or where Hitler made a bunch of his fateful decisions winds you in a way that only standing where you know for a fact a dictator had is able to. The same thing happened when Katie Johnson and I went to this art show in a historically protected (and graffiti saturated) alleyway. It is named Monsters in the Basement or Monster Basement, or some combination of "monster" and "basement" that I can't quite remember. These animated structures used to line streets in Paris but then were moved to Berlin and now function as part of an art exhibit that is led by a professional actor. I can't even say what it was exactly, but it left us with the weirdest feeling that is still fading from my memory. We left the basement with this odd sense of foreboding, which wasn't helped by seeing a car drive backwards up a street soon after we emerged from the basement, or when we got lost later that evening trying to find Katie's study abroad hotel somewhere in West Berlin.

Although thsi doesn't really fit with the post, I had to show a picture of the ping pong bar!

For me, Berlin serves as a reminder that giving yourself too fully into anything is dangerous. Art is a beautiful thing that can inspire and give meaning to someone's life, but falling too deeply into art as a lifestyle can leave you broke, living in an abandoned building that is facing foreclosure. The same goes for power--power, when handled correctly, has the possibility to accomplish much in terms of progress and can vastly improve the conditions of living. I don't even have to go into what happens when power is welded by hands that are irresponsibile and too hungry. Such a fine line, but this line isn't always marked by double cobblestones. Actually, let's keep it that way.

In the Land of Wurst, Lederhosen and Beer





Original part of Munich: notice the coocoo clock



 Turns out, not all of Germany is the same. Yes, like most countries, each region is different. Right now I'm in Barvaria, where wurst. lederhosen and beer dominate. It is interesting that the stereotypes that we think of Germany are really only concentrated in the southernmost part. Fun fact: Bavaria wanted to split from Germany and become its own country, but one man prevented this from occuring. This man was Adolf Hitler, and he wanted to keep the birthplace of the Nazi movement in Germany. I'm embarrassed to admit how little I knew about Munich until I got to my hostel too early to check in and went on the free tour to kill some time. The tour was not a waste of time at all.

Just like my previous Madrid/Barcelona connection to Chicago/New York, there is also a great contrast between Munich and Berlin. Munich is the older, conservative, Catholic, more subtle city with a lot of national pride for Barvaria. Berlin is the younger, liberal, Protestant, flashy city that everyone runs to visit for the history. At least, this is the dynamic that my tour guide, Ozzie, established for us. I'm going to keep my judgements open for right now. I really enjoy Munich, but there are still some things about the place that nag at me. The way Munich treats its past is much more assumed and seems a little repressed. I suppose it is difficult to deal with the past filled with Nazism, but it is a little eery how you would have to know where to look for memorials (most commonly on the ground) in order to find and appreciate them.

Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf

Aside from that, Munich is everything I supposed Germany to be. Traditional clothing gets its own department in department stores, it is a Bavarian constitutional right to have a liter of beer at work and not be fired for it, pork sausage and pretzels are everywhere you turn, and beer halls are the most popular place to be no matter what time of day. It is actually a wonder, and an ongoing debate between three of my Aussie friends and me, about how southern Germany isn't obese. They think it's because they shiver off all the weight; I counter that shivering doesn't help Chicago, and it isn't even that cold here.

Beer Hall!

Bonjour Paris

It is not a surprise that Paris is my favorite city so far, and will probably end up being my favorite overall with London, Berlin and Dublin for a tight race for second. This is in part because I studied French for over 5 years and in part because, well, it's Paris. After all, when I texted my dad that I was in love with the city, his response was simply "so you think you're special?" Probably the biggest factor in my amazing weeked was the fact that I spent it with Miss Gabrielle Blackwell (did I spell that correctly?? haha).

Together, Gabby and I saw the city. With just a taste of what we accomplished in merely three days and two nights, we visited the Catacombs, Notre Dame, Shakespeare & Company bookstore, the Pantheon, the Sorbonne, the Louvre, Sacre Coeur, Montmartre, the Latin Quarter and Place Saint Michel. This is not even mentioning the FOOD. We ate almond croissants, crepes (nutella and banana!!), falafel, cupcakes, salades geantes, and tempeh. We also had some wine and even found filtered coffee. Filtered coffee is by far the American staple I really underestimated how much I would miss. Thank you Sugarplum Cakes for a lovely afternoon of reading, filtered coffee and that delicious chocolate cupcake with coffee icing. MMMMMM.

The most memorable part of the trip is the Frenglish and the comments we would make about the historical sites we visited. Maybe we were more concerned about cell phone reception and food while in the catacombs, or maybe even distracted by the interior design of the Louvre instead of the paintings hung on the walls, but c'mon. We really couldn't help it. Gabby, I am a little disappointed that we never finished our song about the Catacombs, but maybe we can finish it in Ireland. Please meet up with me in Ireland!

And for those of you who noticed I did not mention a tourist site that would be a staple of a visit to Paris, I am lucky enough to have been to Paris before, so I did not actually visit the Eiffel Tower this time. I did see it from a distance on my last day. I also haven't decided if I am going to make a return visit to Paris after Amsterdam either. Maybe I will be able to get some Eiffel Tower shots before I leave Europe afterall.

The End of Barcelona...And Then Some

So I am really behind on my posts. I'm going to try and catch up the best I can today and tomorrow, although the posts will have to be without pictures for right now. The hostel internet is just not working fast enough for those. Pictures to come later. Blog marathon, woohoo!!! I may even buy a coffee from a little vending machine across from me right now in my hostel--only in the considering stages right now though.

Well the last of Barcelona was quite lovely. I really gave the city another chance after the overwhelming emphasis of Gaudi and his works. Don't get me wrong, I think that the Sangrada Familia and Parc Guell are amazing, but something about the design left me unsatisfied. It was probably just Barcelona's dependence on his designs for tourism that bugged me, but something just rubbed me the wrong way.

However, after I went to the Picasso Museum, which is situated in the old part of Barcelona, I found a new appreciation for the city. This section was much more low key and had a bunch of nice coffee shops and bakeries to wander into. Nothing like the cookiecutter cafes that plagued the main shopping street that my hostel was located near. In fact, upon Tarpey's recommendation, I found my way to Lolita's bakery and had a delicious little red velvet cupcake. So delicious.

Speaking of which, diid I mention that I got to hang out with Tarpey in Barcelona? The first night we met up we made a delicious dinner after rambling down Las Ramblas and going to the outdoor market right next to it. The next, we decided to hang out in her dorm while we both read and just sort of caught up, and of course planned how we are going to meet up with each other all over Europe.

The last night and day of Barcelona were filled with hanging out with people in my hostel, being dragged to a dive bar everyone was heading to and then getting tapas. Thanks again, Cristina, for all the recommendations and food tips you gave me for Barcelona. At least not seeing you for a full year payed off in one way or the other. :)

Honestly, I cannot believe how difficult it is to try and remember all that had happened in Barcelona. It's very strange an idea that I was there merely a week ago, yet can barely remember being there at all. Clearly this entire vacation is becoming quite a whirlwind adventure. For the most part, I really like it. Waking up each morning having new things to discover hasn't gotten old so far. Changing cities so often is the chance to never have a dull day, if you don't want one--then again, there is limited excuse for sleeping in, watching TV or a movie or even going online. Tant mieux, now it's on to Paris.

Lost but Found

Sagrada Familia

  Anyone who has known me for a while can attest to my atrocious sense of direction. There have been times where I have called either Katherine or Ben for directions when I'm driving around in Park Ridge; and call my Mom, or even Morgan, when I'm wandering and lost in Chicago. Yes, these are both places I have lived my entire life. Yes, I should know them well enough not to rely on people who either don't live there anymore or haven't lived there nearly as long. Now, imagine my ability to navigate cities I have never been to before. Honestly, it's not too much different, except for that my helplines are nonexistent.

You would think that knowing this would force me to consult a map a little more frequently than I'm accustomed before departing for my destination, maybe ask for directions when it seems that I'm am heading for the wrong side of town, or even travel with a group of people who seem to know what's going on. But, no. Instead of following my own advice, when I get lost I stand in the middle of the sidewalk for a while, consider which way looks like it might be the best way, appear confused for a little longer, and then order a cafe con leche at the nearest coffee shop. This is the Liz Kossnar method of getting lost.

Something I came across on the Passeig de Gracia

I think it's safe to say that I am lost approximately an hour each day, without fail. Yesterday, I was lost getting from the Sangrada Familia back to my hostel--I walked up and down the street adjacent to my hostel for at least a half an hour. Today, I couldn't figure out how to get to Parc Guell so I just decided to try and find the Palau de la Musica. After I walked a good while the opposite direction (but on the correct street) to where I wanted to go, I still got lost after I had regained my ground and finally conceded to ask directions at a tourist stall on Las Ramblas. Even though that woman informed me the direction I had wanted to go was, in fact, the wrong way, I still failed at following her directions, which were even drawn on a McDonald's map she provided for me. Apparently, I looked lost enough to merit the attention of this adorable old man who literally walked me to the Palau de la Musica, and then pointed to the front doors.

Palau de la Musica

While it is annoying to be constantly lost, I also enjoy the helplessness every once in a while. I come across a lot of great Kodak moments I wouldn't have otherwise, not to mention the helpful information that I acquire when I really do need to know that if you take a right from the San Jordi hostel onto the Passeig de Gracia, you can get to the Catalunya metro stop that will take you to the Arc de Triomf. It's all just part of the adventure.

Although, I would really appreciate it if I could make it to Parc Guell tomorrow without too much time spent in confusion...


Parc de la Ciutadella



Moving at the Speed of Spain

So even though it has been a while since my last post, I wanted you all to know that I am still alive, and just got into Barcelona. But let's rewind, shall we? I just got ahead of myself at American pace, let alone the  pace of things in Spain: 15 minutes late is 5 early.

Although I was sad to leave Lisbon (or LIZbon har har har), I am absolutely in love with Madrid. I suprisingly slept ten of the eleven hours of my night train to Madrid and went straight to seeing the city with my tour guide, and family friend, Mike. Within my first few hours, I walked through Plaza Mayor, the Egyptian Temple, Palacio Real and a bunch of other places that seemed to blur together and became the source of extreme fatigue and leg soreness. After a three hour siesta, Mike, his roommate, other friend and I managed to get some tapas. The beauty of tapas in Madrid is that you order a beer and food just starts piling on the table. Our meal cost us 4 Euros each, but I got an extra beer, so it was really and an 8 Euro meal. Money well spent, I'd say.



Mike (left) and me (right)



Yesterday, I managed to wake up early and get over to the Museo de Prado and the Reina Sofia, two amazing art museums in the city. It was fun to take some time and stare at some Bosch, Picasso and Dali--oh so surreal. Cue the second seista and then we were out on the town, first to see the band of one of Mike's friends (who happens to be from Appleton, WI), then over for a Kwak at another bar and then to Louie Louie to hang out with the band. What is really interesting about Madrid is that it has a really punk and rock'n roll edge. Totally my scene, but not so much for Andy, who really wishes that some of Berlin's disco was in his new city. Actually, Madrid reminded me of Chicago in a lot of ways--probably that it's really down to earth and underappreciated.

Somehow I managed to wake up after a few hours of sleep and then managed to drag Mike out the door of his apartment and straight into El Rastro. Aside from the stand of rubber bands, knockoff Threadless teeshirts and the military paraphernalia (ie gasmasks), I bought a leather purse and a nice little ring for myself. First few personal souvenirs are a success! Don't worry, I'll start sending out postcards soon--leave your address if you haven't already and want a postcard from me.

OH, and to backtrack once again, guess what I found at Louie Louie? A bumper sticker of Delilah's!!! If that isn't a sign, I don't know what it is. There has been a lot of random talk of "destiny," "fate" and "signs" on this trip, especially with all the chance meeings and wandering into random sections of cities one is likely to come across on an adventure such as this one. I don't necessarily believe in any predestination, BUT if it means that my trip is destined for greatness, I'll take it.

What, what, what is my life?

For the past few days, the question, "What is my life?" has been on a constant mental loop in my head. What is my life that I'm on a plane to Lisbon?...What is my life that i'm wearing a northface and sweating outside when I see pictures of Chicago swallowed under snow?...What is my life that I aimlessly wandered towards a castle, befriended Australians who were taking in the scenery, eventually found it with their guidance AND THEN managed to wander back to my hostel solo?...What is my life that a street vendor gave me a free bracelet because I told him I was from the United States and voted for Obama?

Overall, you can say my trip is off to a great start, despite a troubled beginning. The initial shock of being in a country that does not speak English, being without sleep for about 36 hours and, of course, having the airport lose my bag between London and Lisbon got the best of me for a moment--almost so far as considering booking a ticket back to the States or at least to London. However, I couldn't be happier that those who happened to be online when I was freaking out convinced me to tough it out. Two guys I met in the dorm also put me at ease by explaIning that everyone has that initial shock the first time they travel alone--thanks again Nick and Dave.

Lisbon was a good starting point for this adventure. It has a very chill atmosphere, and I'm in love with the hostel lifestyle. Meeting new people everday that are on similar trips and are looking for the same type of experience is incredible. Also, Australians are crazy, but in a good way.

The first day, I went on a tour with this guy named Bruno, and yesterday I met up with a guy I met through couchsurfers named Marco--both are natives to Lisbon. They both emphasized that the people who live here don't appreciate what they have--the weather, the beaches, the sites and the history--like those who come and visit. That, in their opinion, everyone complains and does nothing to change their situation. The decaying buildings are a good example of this. There is this feeling that everyone who grew up here want to leave, but everyone who comes to visit don't want to leave. Super weird, right? Also, the graffiti here is out of control.

Well that's my two cents on Lisbon. I'm sad to leave, but now I'm on to Madrid!