Double Dutch

It's going to be tough leaving this place

After several months of traveling solo it's always nice to see a familiar face so the last couple of weeks have been wonderful. First, Katie's parents Anne and Wayne came over from Minnesota to briefly escape what is turning out to be another harsh Minneapolis winter. This was our 4th time in Amsterdam but somehow the majority of the normal tourist stops had avoided me e.g. Anne Frank, Van Gogh, etc. Anne and Wayne had never visited these tourist attractions either, so we went to all of the main spots, but I would rather talk about the unique things we ran into. For example, we were one of the few people that dressed up for Halloween. The majority of the costumes consisted of one prop like a mask or something handheld. Luckily for the Dutch, Katie and my costume closet is at home or else we would have won every Halloween contest. Watch out 2015.

We basically run this town now so Anne and Wayne got a private tour

My favorite time with the Schmiegs was actually getting out of Amsterdam for the day and taking a train to Zaanse Schans, which is just as much fun to visit as it is to say. Say it with me...ZAHN SA SCHANS. Lovely. Just 17 minutes out of the city lies what everyone pictures when they think of Holland - windmills, cheese, wooden shoes and tulips (in spring). Zaanse Schans is deemed a working village which translates to tourists tromping through people's actual businesses and backyards while snapping pics and saying "Ooo how quaint. Look at their little lives". But it's honestly worth it. You get to check out eight windmills, there's a cheese museum with about 20 samples of their product, and a clog factory where you can try on legit wooden shoes. Honestly it seems like a punishment to walk around in these things but you often see them around Amsterdam. My beautiful bride insists the pair she tried on was quite comfortable but she lies all the time.

Anne and I often get into disagreements over board games. Although I'd be upset if I lost all the time too.

Anne and Wayne were in town during a folk music festival and one of the key events was a beer tasting during IndieBingo, the classic game but instead of a dangerously elderly woman calling out numbers you have a young emcee (speaking completely in Dutch), a DJ and live band playing alternative and folk rock songs. Now I think I'm pretty plugged into the social pipeline. I'm hip, I'm down, I've got the 411, but MAN did I come up worthless at IndieBingo. I was expecting more Fall Out, Jack White, and The Ramones but instead we got bands like Alamo Race Track, Babyshambles, and Jesus and Mary Chain.

Read the room, guy

However, thanks to the nice people around us and dumb luck, Anne got a bingo almost immediately after 7 songs but was too nervous to go up - understandably since we were relying only on the word of strangers who SHOULD be out for their own good, sabotaging those around them (what I would have been doing) plus anyone that went up with a false bingo had to stay on stage to sing a song or dance. Most often the victims were English speakers that didn't hear the changing rules put out so it makes sense to be cautious. Luckily I was full of beer samples and went up automatically in her stead. The bingo was true and suddenly a beautiful woman was shoving cheese in my mouth while the emcee loaded me up with prizes. By the end we walked away with a bunch of 45s of unknown bands, a plant (because of course), a Suicidal Tendencies workout tank (that's a keeper), and a pair of bright blue running shoes that fit perfectly.

Free preview performance at the Amsterdam Concert Hall. Fun fact. In dutch, the oboe is called a hobo.

Our next guests were my cousin Laura and her boyfriend Carl from Chicago. One of the things we did with them was the Heineken Experience. Now the Heineken brewery tour used to be free but then they moved the building and started charging 15€ for it. People were pissed because it was basically the same thing, so Heineken rebranded the "Brewery Tour" to the "Heineken Experience" and then everyone forgot about it. Give that PR person a raise. Anyway, it seemed like a lot to shell out but it was surprisingly worth the money. You end up getting 3 drinks and we spent 2 and a half hours in there being taught how to pour/drink beer, playing foosball, and going on an unexpected 4D "Be the Beer" ride through the brewing process.

In one room Laura and I got to try out our table turning skillz. Just call me DJ Mustache Wax. (Erra erra erra)

Speaking of paying for a ride, I know I mentioned the Red Light District before but I now have more valuable information. We found an arcade bar (WITH A BALLPIT FOR ADULTS) right outside of five women's windows so we camped out for an hour in the front window and kept some statistics. Four of the women were quite successful and kept pulling in suitors (with maybe about fifteen minutes in between johns), while the fifth, who was our underdog, came up empty the whole time. On average the men spent 8 minutes inside the door with the most at 10 min and the least at 6 from start of convo to hasty exit. Now brace that brain for some math. The most popular girl had 3 johns, presumably at 50€ each over the span of an hour which comes out to 150 euros or $187 an hour, but if you remove the 10min of down time and a minute each for conversation, she only worked 27 min of the hour so it comes out to $415 per hour worked. Now that was the most, several other girls only pulled in one or two men so the numbers vary. It's a fascinating and bizarre culture and so far, we've only observed it from a distance...for now.

Seriously. BAR BALL PIT. Get on it, Minneapolis

One of the nice things about spending so much time in Amsterdam is that we also get to find the small places that tourists don't hit up. Our AirBnb hosts recommended a local restaurant to the Schmiegs and I saying "This place has the best steak. No joke", and Loetje did not disappoint. Easily the best steak I've ever had BUT I did leave my scarf there and they didn't have it the next morning so out of spite, never frequent this business. With Laura and Carl we found De Keu, a sports bar that offered free darts and pool all night, although there must be something different about Dutch billiards because despite being 5 beers in, I was simply terrible. My wife, however, played surprisingly well. She and Carl wiped the floor with us probably because we learned that Laura has been shooting with the wrong hand for twenty years. Naturally she blamed this on me since we have been playing pool since we were kids. Maybe she didn't read the part above about where I referenced the importance of sabotaging opponents.

A midnight Canal Tour is always romantic. Perfect for cousins

It was great seeing our family for a brief moment but it's nice to be back alone where no one can judge me for having an all Doner diet or not washing my jeans for a month. Amsterdam is one of our very favorite places but sadly it's time to move on. Now onto Asia!

We'll miss you old friend.

CM

Conversation and Hennesseys. Lisbon

 

The sunshine continued as we ventured west to Portugal. We stayed in a pleasantly bright airbnb garden level apartment in Lisbon. The relaxation that so often accompanies warm weather evaded us as we explored the cobbled hills of Lisbon. Our first afternoon we hiked an hour on what was certainly an entirely vertical path to the largest, most extensive street market I’ve ever seen. It began more like a neighborhood yard sale, with blankets lining the streets for blocks, each individual vendor using their six-foot space to sell an assortment of random goods from leather boots to antique door knockers to one-eyed dolls. The market continued beyond the narrow streets to a large open area filled with tables, tents and more blankets. We spent several hours navigating the labyrinth of hidden treasures and frightening childhood toys from another time in the much welcome sunshine.  

Chris debating between an Indiana Jones hat or Harry Potter 4 in Portuguese.

One treasure we hunted for at the market all afternoon was an outfit fit for the upcoming futbol match, El Classico. To Chris’ chagrin, we accidentally left Spain one day before Barcelona played Real Madrid, a hugely popular game stacked with some of my World Cup favorites, including that handsome bitch and local Lisbon favorite, Ronaldo. Fortunately, the match was still a big deal to sports fans in Lisbon, and we were able to find a pleasantly rowdy Irish bar, Hennessey’s, to watch and cheer. With very little effort, we were able to find two Ronaldo jerseys (or futbol shirts, as we quickly learned the Brits call them) just in time for the game. An enjoyable evening of Irish beer, high fives with sweaty strangers, flaming Sambuca and new found friends from England and Australia followed. And of course Real Madrid dominated the match, which I tribute mostly to our new shirts.

 

Tom and David have big plans to visit Minneapolis. Obviously.

 We took a day trip from Lisbon to a coastal town called Cascais. Originally the trip had intended to be a beach day, but after a late start and ill-planning by someone in our group, it turned into a pleasant exploration of the town instead (questions like, “how does one get to the beach?” and “when does the sun set in Lisbon in October?” would have been important answers to seek out before leaving the apartment). But we found a strange café on the ocean that sold slabs of cold meat and bottles of takeaway beer, and we made an impromptu picnic on the jagged, volcanic looking rocks on the edge of town and watched the sunset over the Atlantic. It was the perfect end to what could have been a very disappointing day. Who needs a beach day, anyway?

 

note the lovely setting sun in our glasses

So, we didn’t find the glamorous beaches the internet was raving about. We did, however, find some pretty cool ocean-side activities of our own. We found a tranquil bar with lounge chairs feet from the shore and only a 30 second walk from a busy city square. We watched in awe as a local man built an epic sand castle on a small plot of make-shift city beach. The urban proximity to the ocean reminded me of Minneapolis and Lake Calhoun set against a backdrop of familiar skyline. A pleasant mix of relaxation and exploration. There was even a neighborhood famous for its enormous street art. Head towards the Saldahna tube stop and you won’t be able to miss the larger than life depictions of political corruption and crocodiles with story high teeth. 

 And right in the center of the city was my favorite place of all. A garden overlook with a view for miles around. The garden where we sat featured dozens of statues, representing a mix of Greek mythology and Portuguese history. But the real hero of this small overlook was the breathtaking view. And not “breathtaking” like in Seinfeld when the doctor refers to both Elaine and the ugly baby as breathtaking. I mean truly a surprisingly stunning view hidden in the middle of the city. You have to get close to the edge to appreciate the magnitude of what you are able to see. And thanks to the treacherous hills of Lisbon and with the overlook placed at the top, we looked out over a rainbow of houses from our serene perch. And we enjoyed all this serenaded by a pleasant man and a gentle acoustic guitar. If it weren’t for the flies (seriously, where are they all coming from? Were we sitting on a nest of sorts?!) we would have stayed there all day.


unfortunately this photo appears to be mostly stone ground and very little view.
So you'll just have to believe me that it was really cool.

 On our last night in Lisbon we visited a traditional Portugese restaurant down the street from our apartment, recommended by our Airbnb host. The servers did not speak English and we recognized very few words on the menu. I ordered a lemonade and veal with fried egg, which turned out to be almost exactly what I suspected. Only the lemonade I ordered appeared to be mostly lemon with the tiniest bit of water. I added all the provided sugar packets and half my water bottle before I could take a sip without my entire face contracting like a raisin.



mmmmmmmmmmm

 Chris ordered a beer and a steak. Our server wasn’t certain what he wanted and first brought over a platter of very large fish that I was almost entirely certain were dead (they looked right at me) and gestured as if to say “is this what you want?” With the platter inches from his nose, Chris attempted to explain “No! Please, I’d like… cow?” He nodded in apparent understanding and disappeared. Chris watched our meals arriving over my shoulder with a panicked expression on his face. Placed in front of him was a raw, bright pink, juicy slab of meat. But, again our heroic server and his extremely helpful gestures showed Chris that he had also brought over a hot plate, and Chris was to cook is own steak on there. It was delicious and also really fun! I’m glad my veal was cooked for me as I don’t know how Chris avoided burning his forearms on the hot plate like George Senior's corn baller. It was one of the best meals either of us had ever enjoyed, and goes to show what can happen when you point at a menu and cross your fingers.



I think I can still hear it mooing

 We did not explore the history of Lisbon as earnestly as we have in other places. We did not take any tours, we did not seek out informative books or articles, and we did not visit a single museum. But we took away a feeling about a place in a moment in time. A lifestyle. A pride in freshly made sangria and freshly caught fish. I felt welcome here, less of a tourist, more of a visitor. I’d like to learn more about Portugesue history and culture because of the snapshot of happiness I took in the few short days we experienced here. Bottoms up, Lisbon. Or as they say, saúde!



post work happy hour anyone?! (Also, how handsome is that man?)

 lovefromkt

Mad About Madrid

Como se dice: Girl's got some ups.

Maybe it's because we only had 3 days there, but man do I want to go back to Madrid. We were all over the city but there were still so many more places we didn't have the chance to explore. In all but one city we've stayed in AirBnB apartments and sometimes the neighborhood is hit or miss and can often substantially sway the mood of the visit. For example, our Bratislava neighborhood was not great if you wanted to go to any business after sunset, let alone if you needed to find alcohol at 1AM. Madrid was the exact opposite. We stayed in an area called LAVAPIES pronounced Lava-Pee-Ace but naturally we just called it LovePies. 

Stencil graffiti is all over the city but it's hard to be hardcore when you have hearts for letters.

LovePies used to be a very poor and drug ridden neighborhood but recently it has flourished when young people moved in to take advantage of its cheap housing. In the middle of the square there are 8 streets shooting in all directions that have every possible type of cuisine you'd want. Hands down I had the best chicken fajita in my life at a place called Portos. We spent several nights at the street tables in front of Portos enjoying their buckets of beer for absurdly cheap prices, just enjoying the buzz of the nightlife and people milling through the area. There's a constant police presence which has dropped the crime dramatically but still we were offered drugs everyday. Nothing compared to the amount in Lisbon, but that's for the next post. 

Lovepies is always bumpin.

Flamenco! Now I've been told by many friends and strangers that I have the freshest moves on the dance floor, and I've won my fair share of dancing championships, but I've got nothing on these dancers. Flamenco is a Spanish dance which consists of a lot of clapping and a large stout man bellowing out words faster than I thought possible. Remember old school Geocities websites that would automatically start playing some terrible song as soon as you accessed it? If I knew anything about websites, I would set that unavoidable automatic music file for this blog post but instead of a dancing yodeling hamster, it would be rhythmic clapping and the click-clack stomping of feet. Luckily for you, I do not.

Sadly there was not an amateur night for me to show off my skills.

One of the most beautiful spots of Madrid is Buen Retiro Park which is in the Eastern part of the city. The park is an enormous green space with an abundance of places to nap, read, people watch, or drink excessive amounts of sangria. One of the most popular spots in the park is the pond Estanque del Retiro where young handsome athletic lovers (sound like anyone you know?) rent rowboats and troll around the water. It was a dangerous call since the last time Katie and I tried something similar we nearly broke up over a paddle boat ride through Amsterdam. Luckily this time was beautiful and our marriage is still intact. Sidenote: the word "rowboat" has forever been ruined for me by the movie I, Robot because customers at my movie theatre didn't understand the I ROBOT marquee and would ask for two tickets to "EE-ROH-BOAT". Although nothing was worse than Viggo Mortenson's horse desert race movie...you know the one....Hidildo.

 

We tried to have jousting matches with other boats but everyone else (wisely) backed down.

My favorite part of Madrid was the bar Tartan Roof on top of Circulo de Bellas Artes, an 8 story building just off the main shopping strip of Gran Via. Now it cost 3€ to get to the top of this badboy but it's worth it. Now I know you badasses are considering just slipping up without paying but we tried that already. We stealthily avoided the front desk clerk but then we were prompted for a ticket, which of course we didn't have so we had to go back down. I even tried to pay the guard to let us stay up there but he said we had to go back and pay on the first floor. You win this time, Spain. So pay the few shekels and go upstairs and enjoy the view.

 

In addition to the view, dont miss the lovely gazelle and lady butt art.

On top of the building was an outdoor art exhibit of photography ranging from nature shots to city landscapes to a naked man that body painted himself a dozen different times to look like each of the Avengers and X-Men. Obviously my favorite was his interpretation of naked Hulk. In addition to the nude flaccid Wolverine art there was a bar up there with barca loungers meant for two. Katie and I spent several hours lying back, drinking Heinekens and gazing out over beautiful Madrid. If anyone is going to visit, I highly recommend hitting this place up, just make sure you "follow the rules" and pay their stupid fee. Damn the man.

Skylines, booze, and lying down is kind of our jam. 

Plus I got to use all my Spanish that I apparently still have in my system from barely paying attention over the last 14 years. For the most part we were Spanish experts but once people heard my awful accent they immediately switched into English. Ordering food was probably the easiest since that seems to be the thing every Spanish class covered. However, every once in awhile we would falter. We went to 100 Montaditos, a restaurant that sells 50 cent beers and tiny ass sandwiches (montaditos) for a buck. Katie tested out as proficient in college so naturally she should have no problem ordering our food. We talked it out and planned the speech for the server, and she was all pumped up and ready to go, but then she watched in horror as the customer in front of her had a 5 minute rapid fire conversation, an almost interview like grilling by the cashier. Once it was Katie's turn, the cashier looked at her and used only took one word to bring her crumbling down: Nombre? Nombre, a word that we learned as children, disappeared from Katie's brain and she slipped immediately into English. Valiant effort, girl. Oh and then the man misheard her "Nombre" and started calling her Kelly.

 

BreadMan is the stuff of nightmares. So much for ever sleeping again. I think it might even say DOOM on his chef hat.

Seriously. Madrid is amazing and I want to go back. Like right meow. I know Kelly feels the same way.

CM

Like flies on a penis. Praha

mini golf at Praha TV Tower Park

 We made it to the Czech Republic, the 8th country in our 2014 anniversary adventure, and our 6th week of travel. As we had not seen a familiar face since Jeffrey left Munich over two weeks earlier, we felt very fortunate while in Prague to discover a few activities to remind us of the joys of home. 

One pleasant glimpse of home we experienced was a visit to the movies to see Zmizela, aka Gone Girl. The movie theatre felt familiar enough to allow us to relax, but quirky enough to make the visit quite memorable. Half the previews were in Czech without captions, which made our post trailer whispered discussions concerning whether we’d see the film or not quite elaborate. (“Wait, what did you think that was about?”). Chris purchased a Heineken at the concession stand, because, of course he did. My favorite part, however, was the ham and cheese flavored popcorn we purchased and then proceeded to eat approximately 1/16^th of our medium box. It tastes exactly as you may imagine ham and cheese popcorn would taste. But when ham and cheese popcorn is an option, it seems unlikely that we wouldn't give it a try. Sidebar: we very much enjoyed the movie, and I found the Czech captions only added to the experience.

TV Tower at night. Can you find the Babies?

Our Airbnb apartment was located in the Zizkov District of Prague, with a gorgeous view of the Zizkov Television Tower, lit up by night and strangely creepy by day. The TV Tower was decorated with ten large fiberglass babies, crawling up the exterior of the tower. As this image was our very first of the city of Prague, and one we saw daily thereafter, we became increasingly interested in this bizarre choice. After a bit of research, we learned that the sculptures were added by local artist David Cerny, famous for his controversial, provocative public pieces of art. Apparently he intended them to look like “flies on a penis.” Having taken 8 tours by this point in the journey, Chris and I were quite fond of walking great lengths to find seemingly insignificant objects with historical significance or legendary inspiration. So we decided to create our own walking tour around Prague, finding all of the David Cerny statues within and surrounding the city center! 

yes, that is chris hanging upside down from the Prego Lego womb

We visited In Utero, an enormous pregnant woman with a hollow interior, allowing visitors to climb inside and experience rebirth upon their exit. We saw Freud hanging by one arm from a fifth floor window, some claim representing the very loose grip we as a society hold on reality, and is most definitely missed by the average passerby who wouldn’t think to look up for it. We cringed at the sight of Embryo, a 3-foot gelatin looking blob built around an apartment building drain pipe, worried it would begin to pulsate at any moment. And we laughed with many other tourists in the front garden of the Kafka Museum at the installation Piss, two men urinating into a small pool shaped like the Czech Republic. Apparently their rotating hips will spell messages in urine if you text the number on the plaque, but unfortunately our American phones did not allow us to test this feature. There are other Cerny statues displayed all over the world, including an epic double-decker bus doing push-ups in London, placed there during the 2012 Olympics.

Piss

As the motto of the DOX Contemporary Art Museum in Prague tells us, “In an age when growing numbers of people tend to think dangerously alike, art’s capacity to suspend, even for a moment, our habitual ways of seeing may well prove to be of its greatest value.” Keep your eyes open for David Cerny’s work, it is enchanting and deeply thought provoking. And if you’re headed to Prague, I’ve saved our tour route if you’re up for an imaginative adventure!

Embryo.

We found ourselves wandering the beautiful streets of Prague extensively in our time there. The calf-burn inducing hills rival Parisian streets and the uneven cobbles are reminiscent of the ankle-twisting dangers of Bratislava, but walking around Prague is an absolute must. The streets are full of performers, animals (mostly unleashed dogs, with the occasional street pig) blacksmiths working over their fires and charming architecture that hints of life from another time. The Old Town is picturesque, despite boasting the second most disappointing tourist attraction in the world. The Astrological Clock in the town square is remarkable, with hands depicting the cycles of the moon, the signs of the Zodiac, the calendar date, the Name Day for all Czech children, and even the time. But on the hour, this impressive clock gives a “puppet show” that is not necessarily worth the inevitable neck cramp that ensues when all eyes are looking skyward, waiting for one unfortunately disappointing show. Pretty pimp clock, though. 

One site we discovered while exploring the city definitely lived up to its Trip Advisor reviews where the Astro clock did not. Just across the famous Charles Bridge stands what is now commonly known as the Lennon Wall. Since the 1980’s, this exterior concrete wall has been covered with John Lennon inspired and often politically motivated graffiti. We saw Beatles lyrics, notes from fellow visitors, messages of support for protestors in Hong Kong, and images of Lennon himself. A lone acoustic guitar player with a pleasantly soothing voice provided the perfect soundtrack for our visit.

the sign in his case reads "i need money to repair my time machine to go back to the 60's!"

We experienced a world of beauty in the walls, sounds and streets of Prague. There is a living history in the architecture that is missing in many other European cities. We learned on our walking tour that Adolf Hitler also saw the beauty of Prague. He loved the city, and gave orders for it not to be destroyed. Because of this, there is only one building in the city that sustained any damage during WWII. I am extremely glad we searched for uncommon art and activity in this city, and would love to come back again one day and find so much more!

view of the Charles Bridge. this didn't suck.

lovefromkt

Do's and Don'ts of Bratislava. Hint: One Involves Spanking

Meet our two new friends! They thought I was hilarious...I left them in stitches!....no? nobody? I'll see myself out.

DO go to Bratislava. Located a stones throw from Vienna (well assuming someone strong like me is chucking said stone) Bratislava is mostly viewed as a stopping ground between Austria and Budapest. Our tour guide took a poll of our group and over half were only there for one day on a layover between cities. Slovakia gets very little cred in the area and in fact two of the three times that George W Bush visited the country he proudly announced that he was "happy to be in Slovenia". Thanks a pantload, GW. You could maybe blame Hollywood for their interpretation of the city as the only two movies to feature the city has done so in a poor light. Any guesses? One of the movies is Eurotrip which depicts Bratislava as a rundown town where men bathe on the sidewalk, dogs run around with human hands, and you can live like a king for a week on only $1.83 (the last one isnt terribly off, I'll get to that later). The second and possibly the most damning is Hostel. the movie about backpacking teens that get kidnapped and tortured. Once Hostel came out, the number of backpackers visiting Bratislava DROPPED BY SEVENTY FIVE PERCENT. That is insane. So ignore the movies. Go check it out. You won't get chopped up. Probably.

Although with wanted posters like this, you're not helping anyone, Bratislava

Ladies, DO NOT visit over Easter because you will get spanked. On Easter Monday, all of the boys and men in Bratislava make small whips out of branches and chase women around, slapping them on the butt. They also hide in corners and douse ladies with buckets of water when they aren't looking. As our female tour guide, Lucy, said, "This might sound sexist...and it is. But it's tradition and we like it." The more harassed a girl is, the more the boys like her so its basically a compliment. Sometimes the men will even scoop a woman up and throw her in the Danube River. In return, the dripping and sore woman will give the boy some candy in thanks or occasionally a shot of alcohol. So imagine drunk men roving through the city with whips and buckets. Count. Me. In. Our guide told us one year her dad dumped a bucket on her to wake her up, another at breakfast, another after she got out of the shower and then another SEVEN TIMES throughout the day. Now she and her friends go on holiday over Easter. Good call.

This is where we stayed with AirBnB. Can't argue with the price and you got to belay out every morning.

DO drink way too much beer. The Eurotrip angle on living like a king for almost nothing is true as long as you stick to beer. At Oktoberfest a liter of beer was 10€, in Vienna you could get a beer for a more conservative 5€, in Bratislava a liter of beer will set you back 1.50€. A 20 oz bottle of Coke costs more than a 50 oz bottle of beer and in some places a bottle of water costs more than a pint, so it'd be crazy to *not* order a beer....right? But watch yourself while you're pounding those things back because unlike the traditional 5% alcohol in American beers, the average ABV is 10% here. That's a recipe for disaster especially when you factor in the streets. Which brings me to my next point...

Beer Arena! Finally a sport I can dominate.

DO NOT ever take your eyes off the ground. I read on a travel blog that the biggest danger of Bratislava was the ground. "Beware of the streets!", it cried! That sounds like something I would shout after nicknaming myself The Streets, but it was right. I would guess that at least 5 times every day, one of us would trip or stumble while walking on these sidewalks of death. My wife would insist that I mention that the cobblestones added romance to the city but I think they just made for a death trap. Rampant around the city were what we affectionately referred to as "street nipples". I'm sure the blacktop was poorly laid down and the heat caused it to swell but my god if they didn't look like nipples sprouting from the ground and they would snag our feet every time we walked over them. I don't know how this isn't a nation of people on crutches.

Dramatic reenactment. No wives were hurt in the taking of this photo.

DO seek out local festivals. We were in town while the Bratislava Art Festival was going on so there were about twenty art galleries that were offering free entry. There didn't seem to be any restriction as to what type of style could be included in the Festival so we saw oil paintings, sculpture, photography and, my favorite, an entire room full of 10 foot tall photos of naked women complete with a background musical track of heavy breathing. Or maybe that was just me.

Hello Ladies

DO NOT walk to Devin Castle without asking a local for directions. We went to the ruins of a 700BC castle but decided to skip the 30 min bus ride and instead walk the ten miles to work off all those beer calories. It was a gorgeous walk filled with parts of the city you normally wouldn't see, including a giant public park for children that featured three trampolines, a zip line, a volleyball court, ping pong table, two soccer fields, and a water feature most likely full of urine. Minneapolis needs to step their park game up. However, for directions we only relied on Google so the last 3 miles of the walk had us walking along the side of a highway, most of the time on the road side of the guard rail. But to Bratislava's credit, not once did anyone honk at us while they whipped past us at what I would assume was light-speed.

We were able to walk right in. No moat or anything. Explains why it's in ruins

DO check out all the ridiculous statues all over the city. Bratislava has this thing where they like to just put up random statues, some of which have absolutely no purpose. The most famous is a bronze construction worker who has his head popped out of a manhole cover and rests his smiling head on his folded arms. Legend has it that if you rub his nose you'll receive good luck so defin--HEY not so fast ladies, let me finish. MEN will receive good luck, but if a woman gives him a rub, she'll end up pregnant, possibly with some sort of statue mutant spawn. Another statue immortalizes a famous homeless person who always walked around with a top hat. It seems that if I put my time in over here, it should only be a matter of months til I get my own statue. And yes, touching me will definitely get you pregnant. 

This soldier is a giant middle finger to Napoleon after he destroyed their city

Finally DO NOT assume that everyone understands what you're saying. Bratislava was the first city we've hit where everyone didn't have some grasp on English. For the most part, we would could decipher what was being said or point to things on menus, but even simple transactions became complicated.
Me: "Hello, can I get two more beers please?"
Slovak Bartender says something I can't understand
Me: *point to the beer and hold up two fingers*
Slovak Bartender nods and says something I can't understand
Me: "Yes? More beer?"
Bartender (in perfect English): "I said is it okay if I keep speaking to you in Slovak?"
Me: "As long as I walk away with 2 beers you can say whatever you want"
They're a zany bunch.

CM

Wieners and Litres. Vienna

damn, that man can jump

After three crazy days in Munich we took a train to Vienna for a little wind-down from non-stop exploration and beers only offered in litres. Our first day we chose to meander into the city center, where there were grand cathedrals, gold, bronze and stone statues, and colorful fountains on every corner. Also found every few buildings were souvenir shops selling chocolate with Mozart’s face and bags depicting The Kiss by famous Austrian artist Gustav Klimt. It was in one of these souvenir shops where we met a woman from Chicago who had been “so pleased to hear someone speaking English in an American accent!” I agreed, it was a nice break after weeks of constant language barriers to have a conversation with someone who knew Minneapolis was a real place. She had just come from the Wiener Wiesn Festival and highly recommended it to us. It was an Austrian celebration of food and culture very similar to Oktoberfest. So we had a full 24 hours of “rest” before suiting up and heading back to 1 litre beers and busty gowns.

chillin like fountain villians

We arrived at the Wiener Wiesn Festival the next day just after lunch time. While at Oktoberfest this would have been considered far too late to enjoy any festivities properly, it appeared to be rather early to arrive in Vienna. The crowd was dominated mostly by patrons my parents lovingly refer to as “white heads”, aka the average age was about 65, and they were not in full traditional garb, as of course we were. There also appeared to be more of a focus on activities other than drinking beer, as if people, remarkably, attended the festival for other reasons than getting drunk with strangers. We took our pictures in an old time photo booth, walked past several areas of children’s activities, and multiple stages of traditional live music. Eventually we settled in a tent for some reasonably priced enormous beers.

Wiener Wiesn Musicians!

It was at the Wiener Wiesn Festival where we made several delightful new friends, including Jasmine and Michael from Perth, Philipp from Germany and Ellen from South Africa. Jasmine and Michael were in the middle of a month long honeymoon and both also write blogs (Jasmine writes a food blog and Michael has one about technology. Follow them, they’re awesome people). We enjoyed their Australian company so much we met for a traditional dinner of gulyas (goulash to us Midwesterners. nom nom meat!) and sturm (red wine like boozy drink -too sugary to have more than one) the following evening. Philipp charmingly appreciated my attempts at proper German pronunciations, and informed me that while yes, Schmiegen technically means to cuddle in German, it is more descriptive of a cat rubbing against your leg than a lover slinking an arm over your shoulder. It was fun chatting with both of them, as Philipp wanted to practice his English, my German was dreadful, and Ellen could very effectively translate for all of us. We found lovely company in our four new friends and hope to see them on our side of the ocean one day.

new friends!

After once again spending too much money on large beers, we began seeking out more frugal entertainment. The Wiener Staatsoper (Vienna State Opera) offers a rockin rush line deal for operas and ballets almost daily. We were fortunate enough to score Standing Room Only tickets to see the opera Don Carlo for 3€ each! It was a very interesting and somewhat stressful process. We waited in line to buy tickets (where a crotchety old woman asked us to eat our Happy Noodles outside, as she didn't like the smell. And get out of line, ma’am? I DON’T THINK SO).

delish noodles. eatin with three hands

What I was not prepared for was the mad rush to get to our spots once they opened the doors. I’m pretty sure an elderly man knocked me down to get a better spot. Fortunately my husband is very scrappy. He dove past a group of slow moving young women and scored us an excellent spot in the center section. Better luck next time, ladies. At this point, it is common practice to leave a scarf on the support bar to save your place and wander about the building. The interior of the Opera House was beautiful, with high ceilings and murals and balconies where well-dressed waiters offered tiny snacks for outrageous prices. It was fun to rub elbows with “opera-goers”, in their fur coats and fancy jewelry. The Opera itself was in Italian. Neither of us knew the story beforehand, but it was fairly easy to follow along. And the colossal set was like a character itself, with the rising floors and moving walls that cast shadows and created massive entrances. Some say it was fairly reminiscent of a set I designed in college.

if only you could see how awesome it was in here

One of our very last nights in Vienna was spent meeting up with Adam, a friend of our friends from Minneapolis, Jessie, Tegan and Hannah. He met us at Brewery 1516, but the rowdy bar was not ideal for new friend conversation. So the three of us bought beer from a small stand and walked into a park to sit at the base of a statue, surrounded by rainbow lit monuments, speaking of baseball and futbol and road trips and spontaneous travel. And of course, as often happens in conversations with new friends, we spoke at length about public urination. This magical evening was the perfect end to a visit to Austria. And even with many suggestions from my surroundings, and to my husband’s pleasure (disappointment? It’s so hard to tell) I barely sang Edelweiss in public. 

see our heads? we're there too!

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