Of all the gin joints…

Ah Morocco, you’re like a high school relationship. I love you, I can’t seem to get enough of you, and then, I’m emotionally exhausted listening to the lyrical poetry of Jewel while simultaneously trying to figure out how quickly I can leave you. Yeah, now we’re traveling folks! If there is one word that sums up our experiences in Morocco its “dichotomy”.

Dichotomya division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different.

 

By the end of this post, we think you’ll know what we mean.  

Something we want you to keep in mind as you read this, a manifestation of our internal dialogue and strife, is that this country is amazing. The people we met and interacted with were so nice, welcoming, and fun. They are eager to invite you into their home or shop to share some mint tea and chat for a bit. Mint tea is delicious by the way. It may or may not have to do with the metric ton of sugar they put in it, but we’ll let you and your blood sugar medication decide if its too sweet.

The country is as beautiful as it is diverse and at times pretty magical. We only mention this because, as the urban poets Poison once opined, every rose has its thorns. And, well, part of our trip and experience was struggling with some of these. as we’ll get to later.

We land in Marrakech, pretty damn excited to get the next part of our travels going. We’re recharged and ready for what we know is probably the most challenging stretch of our journey as the next month and a half as we travel through some of Africa and the Middle East.  We had heard that it could be a pain to negotiate with the cabbies at the airport so we had our Riad (think guesthouse but always with an open and beautiful courtyard in the middle of the house) arrange to pick us up. Easy peasey. Not sure what all of the chatter is on the Interwebs about Morocco being a challenging place to travel to. I guess some people just don’t know how to do research like us, poor fools.

When we finally get to the medina which is the historical old section of towns in Morocco that are set up like labyrinths, your senses quickly get a punch in the face. Dozens of mopeds whipping by you in “streets” no wider than a large doorway. Donkeys pulling carts, hundreds of people, sooooo much exhaust, people smiling and saying welcome, there are just as many bicycles as mopeds also flying past you, oh, and everyone honking or yelling something, Ok, maybe there’s more than what our “research” could actually prepare us for. As we’d find out, this statement could not be more true. This was a first majority Islamic country, and with the way the American media treats the religion and its people you’d half-expect to have everybody spitting at you if you’re not wearing a hijab. What we found instead, was such a welcoming people, always happy to talk with you and teach you about their country and culture. Never once did we feel unsafe, we could walk around the medina and not worry about anything “bad” happening to us, so to speak. Sure, there is petty crime like in any city, but general safety was never a concern. The medinas are amazing old mazes of tiny alleyways lined with hidden shops, restaurants, mosques, homes, workshops, pretty much anything you can think of. Except bars. Alcohol is not legal in Morocco. Well, kind of. It’s illegal and you can’t find it in the medina, but, you can find liquor stores selling Moroccan wine and beer outside the walls of the medina as well as bars. So, it’s illegal, but there are legitimate businesses, wineries and breweries apparently that will sell it to you in an opaque black bag that conceals anything you may have bought. Oh, and they take credit card. Anyway, the medinas are kind of the cultural heart of the city and where we spent a lot of our time exploring.

As your walking around the medinas, you feel both exhilarated to be in such a unique and wonderful place as well as exposed. No way to really blend in here, and it feels like nearly everybody is either staring at you are saying something to you. Often times to get you to check out their shop, and sometimes as a scam to lure you deeper into the maze and then ask for a tip to get you to where you want to go.  “It is forbidden!” you would hear usually from the twenty-something males hanging out. “You’re going the wrong way!” Luckily we were aware of the con before, so we just relied on Google maps which worked… most of the time.

Aside from the false guides, very friendly older men and women would genuinely offer to help if you looked lost. So many people, mopeds and bikes going by, beautiful wares in shop windows, crowded souks (shops), the constant smell of spices in the air, all happening at once. It often times has all senses bursting at the seams. We had to take our time so we could enjoy and just appreciate the madness around us. It worked most of the time, but sometimes it was just so exhausting never being able to walk anywhere without having to say “la shukraan” (no thank you) dozens of times every time you just wanted some fresh air. But if you did battle through, you were rewarded with amazing sites and some decent deals in the souks after some playful bargaining with the owners. 

One of the main attractions of the medina in Marrakech was the square Jemaa el-Fnaa, a huge area with performers, street food, more shops and, unfortunately, animal entertainment. This was probably the first (and unfortunately not even close to the last) exposure to some pretty awful treatment of animals in Morocco. Monkeys that were stolen (illegally) from the forest forced to perform, snake charmers who apparently use very questionable means of training their snakes, and birds with their feet tied to ropes. Pretty hard to see. So, this was one cultural difference that while we understand it exists, and to some degree why it exists, it definitely colors the experience a bit. It’s just hard to have a good time walking around if you see a donkey being whipped carrying waayyyy too much stuff and having to pee on itself because it has nowhere else to go to the bathroom. See what we mean about dichotomy yet?

Given all the madness and sensory overload that is Marrakech, what should one do? How about pay somebody to bathe you. It’s even better / weider than it sounds. We went to a hammam, which is a traditional Moroccan bath house and had two very nice ladies oil our naked bodies and scrub us raw. It was actually pretty nice, Trent even enjoyed it even with the awkwardness. Not a bad way to escape the crazy.

“Laugh before you die”

While he didn’t really explain its meaning, this was the motto of our Sahara tour guide, Hassan. Hassan picked us up in Marrakech and we weaved our way through traffic up into the High Atlas mountains. By the way, if you ever go to Morocco do not rent a car, unless you hate breathing and life generally speaking. If so, then we here Budget is having great deals. There may be lines on the roads, and there may be other rules and laws, but nobody seems to care. Needless to say that was a lot of white knuckling and nervous laughter from the back seat. Ah, laugh before you die. Got it!

Hassan was with us for three days as part of an organized private tour. We traveled around much of Morocco and got to see a lot of the beautiful landscape as well as the towns and villages of the Berber people. The Berbers are the largest ethnic group in Morocco, they have their own distinct culture, food, and even language. Anyway, the 3 day journey was pretty amazing, but non-stop driving across the country. We got to see some beautiful scenery, including the kasbah at Aït Benhaddou, Where they have filmed some personal favorites like Yunkai in Game of Thrones and Gladiator. Are you not entertained?? Hassan even took us to his family home where his mother gave us tea served with Berber “pizza”, which was a delicious mainly veggie dish that besides being cut into slices, did not resemble traditional pizza so much. We felt very lucky to get to see this side of the Berber life, they are wonderful people. After leaving Hassan’s, we went to our final stop which was an experience that will always stick with us. The last night of the tour we stayed in the middle of the Sahara in Berber tents. The stars were like nothing you could imagine, and the sunrise ain’t too shabby either. The amount of silence was incredible, there was no animal life, there was just nothing but rolling dunes for miles around in every direction. And the most incredible night sky we’ve ever seen. It was so peaceful, tranquil, and just a little unnerving to be honest. After the Sahara, we finished out our tour with a short 8 hour drive to Fes.

Fes was, well… challenging. It is one of largest cities in Morocco and has by far the largest most confusing Medina. More the 9000+ streets make up this maze of shops, homes, donkey carts, and other fun things. It’s also where we spent Christmas. So, Christmas is an interesting time when you’re on extended travel. On the one hand, you’re in an exotic location seeing cool stuff. On the other hand, you miss family, friends, eggnog, Christmas trees, bad Christmas movies, good Christmas movies, and general merriment. Luckily for us, Moroccan Netflix had Christmas Vacation, so we pressed on and had the hap hap happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap danced with Danny f***ing Kaye!

Of all the things we struggled with about Morocco so far with the treatment of animals, and sexual harassment towards Michele, Fes was probably most challenging so far as a couple times we were followed through alleyways by younger men hurling threats because we refused to buy drugs from them. No need to spend too much time talking about it really, but let’s just say that Fes was not our favorite location so far.

Chefchaouen

From Fes, we drove to the mountain town of Chefchaouen, where we began to feel pretty blue. Chefchaouen was a nice change, a smaller, more manageable medina, surrounded by mountains and the entire historical part of the town is painted a light blue (see what we did there?). It was pretty stunning to see.

Spanish Mosque, Chefchaouen
Blue buildings and cats. Everywhere.

The people to people harassment was pretty nonexistent here, which was a welcome change. And they, for some reason, have legal weed here. As long as you follow some glassy-eyed individuals outside of town down some unmarked trails to buy it you’re good to go! Also, there is illegal alcohol sold in normal bars. If you want to buy it “to go”, you get escorted to meet the manager who is behind a bar (with bars between you and him) and place your order with the bouncer who relays it to manager. You are given your illicit goods in a solid black bag and sent along the way. (Here we would like to encourage our parents to stop reading). It kind of made drinking exciting again, like when you used to sneak out to your friends to drink the skunked beer they found in their garage or the vodka you used to steal and then refill with water. Ah, the good ole days! (Okay, parents can continue reading now). Mainly Chefchaouen was about as unique as the blue beauty that it possesses. A couple of nice hikes, and welcome slower pace of life to name a few.

“Here’s looking at you, kid…”

Our last stop in Morocco was Casablanca, as romantic as it sounds, Casablanca was little more than just a city. We did watch Casablanca for the first time while in Casablanca, but aside from the corruption of the local police force, there was not much in the way of similarities. Not a bad city, but nothing really to write home about either. In short, Jewel would not have been inspired to write any of her songs here. Except for maybe “Hands”, which contains the lyrical gem “My hands they’re small I know, and they’re not yours, they are my own.” But, that’s it. None of her good stuff.

So, Morocco, what can we say. We’ll be back! Or maybe not. Simply one of the most amazing, confusing, difficult, welcoming, beautiful and unique countries. What can we say, “You were meant for me, and I was meant for you”. Except maybe not.

From Casa we fly out for the bucket list destination of Cairo, it should be interesting as Cairo is supposed to be more difficult than Morocco. But we leave with open minds and hearts, and just a little weary. Now this feels like traveling!

Quick Hitters:

The Food: The food was actually really quite good here. They have their own blend of spices, and everything is about the freshest food you can imagine. The one thing is the portions tend to be huge, like, Cheesecake factory huge, but healthier. Breakfast consists of a bunch of different breads, lots jams, an egg, and more breads and jams. It’s such a carb and sugar load that you must immediately go back to bed.

Coolest Thing: This is tough, but probably the medinas themselves. Such crazy mazes with so many sounds, people zooming, all sorts of smells, it’s really wild. But, it really does give you a glimpse into a new culture and some of the history.

The Thing That Really Grinds Our Gears: Two way tie here between the horrible treatment of animals and the harassment (especially the kind Michele had to endure) just needs to change.
Something to Consider
: We rode dromidaries (camels with 1 hump) to our Berber camp and it was a decision we still struggle with. Although we did our research and chose a company known for taking good care of their camels, we don’t condone the use of animals as entertainment. Therefore, if we had a doover, we definitely wouldn’t have done it. Also, it’s terribly uncomfortable.

Favorite Quotes:
“When we get home, I think we should have a bonfire party to burn all of our travel underwear.”

Time spent in Morocco: 3 weeks
Capital: Rabat
Currency: Dirham

Euro Superlatives!

Welcome to maybe our most favorite post thus far as it allowed us to rehash some of our favorite and least favorite memories! So here is our not-so-comprehensive list of European superlatives to date.

Note:
1. Based only on 13 countries or 25 cities.
2. Very biased.
Key
T: Trent
M: Michele
..obviously

Food
Best Food: T – Croatia; M – Spain, hands down
Freshest Grocery Stores: Rome
Best Mexican Food: Budapest
Best Chinese Food: Munich
Best Vietnamese Food: Munich
Best Indian Food: Lisbon
Worst Meal: some beach cafe, Barcelona
Single Best Meal: Tapas, Barcelona

Alcohol
Best Mojito: Anywhere but Croatia
Worst Mojito: Croatia
Best Beer: Zmajsko (Croatia)
Best Beer Selection: Belgium
Least Interesting Beer Selection: Prague
Coolest Bars: Budapest, ruin bars
2nd Coolest Bar: Cave bar, Dubrovnik

Environment
Most Diverse Landscape: Iceland
Cleanest City: Munich
Smelliest: Ghent (lots of outside urinals)
Best Park: English Gardens, Munich
Best National Park: Plitvice, Croatia
Best/Easiest Transportation: Budapest
Most Beautiful Landscape: T – Iceland; M – Norway
Most Colorful Buildings/Houses: Lisbon
Best Accommodations: Rome
Worst Accommodations: Copenhagen (white room with nasty brown stains on walls) Booked: 6 nights Stayed: 1
Most Likely to Return to: T – Croatia, M – Spain
Least Likely to Return: T – Stockholm, M – Munich
Most Livable: T – Valencia, M – Rome
Most Expensive: Reykjavik
Least Expensive: Prague
Most Green Space: Copenhagen
Least Green Space: Brussels

People
Best Dressed: Germans
Best Looking People: Germans
Oppositve of Above: We’ll never say
Most Active/Fit City: T – Valencia, M – Munich
Best Accent: Italy. Italy. Italy.
Cutest Kid Accent: England
Best Host: Gaia (Rome)
Friendliest People: T – Portugese, M – Croatian
Least Friendly People: Germans
Most Dog Friendly: Spain
Worst Tourists: T – Barcelona, M – Dubrovnik
Best Behaved Children: T – Nowhere, M – Germany
Most Terrible/Annoying Children:  Denmark! Holy shit…
Hardest Language: Hungarian
Easiest Language: Spanish
Most Badass Women: Italian
Favorite New Friends: Stephanie and David!

Tours/Experiences
Best Experience: T – Plitvice Park hanging lakes, M – rowing on Vltava
Best Amusement Park Visited: T – Dreamland, Margate, M – Tivoli, Copenhagen (even though a pigeon pooped in her hair)
Best Food Tour: Lisbon
Best Beer Tour: Brussels
Most geeky tour: Game of Thrones Tour, Dubrovnik

Random Facts
Airplanes: 11 (including in and out of Europe)
Trains/Subways: 49
Trams/Trolleys: 12
Buses: 19
Cabs/Uber: 11
Rental Cars: 1
Bicycles: 3
Ferries: 4
Speedboats: 3
Canal Boats: 1
Rowboats: 1
Sailboats: 1

 

Tapas, Tourists, and Tiles… Oh My!

This particular blog post has been like an albatross, following us around for the past two months. It turns out, when you return to the US, gumption to finish anything immediately dissipates. 

Well, better late than never!

From Munich we caught a cheap flight to Barcelona, easily one of the top three European destinations that we were excited about pre-travel. Barcelona alone was Michele’s ‘must’ European city.  The city was not short on places to see, unreal architecture, and incredible “now these are Spanish tapas” tapas.

When we first starting looking for a place to call home in Barcelona, we had a surprising amount of trouble. We couldn’t figure it out at first, it wasn’t peak season, there were no festivals to speak of, what could be going on? Well, if you’ve followed the news about Spain at all in recent months you may have heard that the region of Spain we were visiting (Catalonia) was having a vote to decide whether they should be independent of Spain. Kind-of-a big dill. It just so happened that one of the days we were there was the day that the rally for independence was held in Barcelona. So us and around a million of our friends walked through the streets of Barcelona. Them in a show of solidarity and cries for independence, us because we didn’t know quite what was going on and just happened to be out and about. Looking back, it’s kinda cool to be part (even accidentally) of something so historically important for the region. On the flip side, everything was closed. Where are your priorities Barcelona??

Actually, that day was one of our first days in town and we found a hike we could do to get some fresh air and views. So we wound our way through the city, up a large hill / small mountain, and landed at a church / amusement park called Tibidabo. This is one of the best juxtapositions you can imagine, a beautiful gothic ancient church on a mountain with the screams of children as they whip past on a rollercoaster that hangs off the edge of the mountain. Piety has its advantages, and those advantages are apparently cotton candy and unlimited rides on the Scrambler. It was on our way down from the mountain when the protests were going full strength. Chants of ‘Si’ (the Catalonian branding for voting “Yes” on the independence from Spain), with flags and t-shirts galore to match. Hundreds of thousands of people peacefully roaming about (if we had been here for actual vote, it was apparently a slightly different story). What was striking was that it wasn’t just young people. It was everybody, including a ton of families marching together with their children. It was just something “neat” for us to see and modestly be part of, but it obviously meant more than we can understand to the people participating. Keep an eye on this, should be interesting to see what resolution they can reach…

Best. Tapas. Ever.

Food is a large part of Spanish culture, not only are there great restaurants with tapas and other amazing things, but families and friends will get together to cook and eat as a way to spend time together. To get just a little taste of this, we took a paella cooking class from a local expert. We learned that traditional paella cooking was a full day affair, gathering family and friends together. We made both the traditional paella with rabbit and one with seafood. Who know bunnies are both cute and delicious! (Full disclosure, Michele did not eat anything that was cute and furry this day). We met folks from around the world at our class and joined a handful of them to tour Park Guell following the class. A creation by Gaudi, who we’ll describe in a little bit. The park had a fairytale feel to it, gingerbread-like houses and winding vine-like railings surrounded the park. Indeed, one of the most amazing aspects about Barcelona is the architecture. From the extremely old castle district to modern skyscrapers, there’s nothing quite like that we’ve seen. One of the biggest reasons for this building eye-candy is all of the buildings and random other things (including light posts, parks, etc), which that dude named Gaudi we mentioned before, influenced or built. His style is basically like walking into a living fairy tale. He uses windy curves, unique colors, and a lot of nature. Like columns that are meant to look like tree trunks reaching up into the sky. Pretty amazing. To give you an idea of how amazing, if you’ve ever been to Europe you’ll know the progression that we’re about to describe:

First time in a church: “Oh my god! This is amazing! There is nothing like this in the states. It’s so old, and look at the detail! I’m going to read about every random saint and story about this church so I can understand it’s history”

Next ten times: “Huh, these are neat. I wonder how old they are. 2000 years? Cool.”

Next fifty times: “Is Christ himself buried in here? No? Then we’ll pass”.

So, after traveling around Europe for a bit you get a little calloused to what are actually all pretty impressive buildings. And then there is the La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. This building is literally awe-inspiring. It is one of Gaudi’s masterpieces, and it has been built (and it’s still going) for the past 135 years continuously. Let that sink in for a moment, in this modern era La Sagrada Familia had its first stone laid in 1883 and has been under construction since then. Five generations of people have seen some phase of construction. It’s nearly complete, and rarely can you say this about something that took that long… So. Worth. It. The outside is impressive enough, with crazy detail and tons of carved tableaus detailing different aspects of Christianity. The inside is otherworldly. Massive ceilings, which at the highest point reach over 500 feet, greet you. To give you some perspective, the Statue of Liberty is only about 300 feet tall. The pillars are trees and go all the way to the top, and all unique in different ways. The massive stained glass windows flood the floor with different colors giving each angle a different feeling. Nothing is by accident and there is so much detail. Word and pictures cannot do this justice, so if you ever find yourself in Barcelona, you better go!

Another Gaudi creation

Now, on a more irritatinh note, one thing that has become apparent to us as we travel, is that wonderful cities like Barcelona are being overrun with tourists. Not the good tourists that try to blend in and enjoy some of the local culture, but, mass groups of people moving in hordes ignoring everyone else. There is no attempt to speak the language (even basic hellos and thank-yous are ignored), and the local areas are rightly getting a little tired of their city (and culture) being overrun for money. As a result, beautiful boulevards like La Rambla and the historic Gothic quarter in Barcelona were saturated with souvenir shops and street con artists. And another thing that grinds our gears, because of the high temperatures, many tourists were using parasols as a way to beat the heat. Unfortunately, their oblivious and irresponsible umbrella usage lead to a lot of eye-gouging for Trent. Michele conveniently slid beneath most. So, tourists… that was the one negative about Barcelona, but enough about that.

We left Barcelona with Michele fighting a cold and a little wary of crowds, Valencia was the perfect next stop. A short, and quite scenic, train ride along the coast brought us to our next home in Valencia. We had no idea what to expect, and were pretty pleasantly surprised with what we found. Valencia is a beautiful city with a rich cultural center, friendly people, and gorgeous beaches. Our host didn’t speak any English, but Michele speaks enough Spanish to get us through without any issues. Regardless, she was adorable. Gesturing to us to make sure we knew we were welcome and making a quick “walking” motion with her fingers to let us know that if we needed anything she would come right over.  Too cute. We used Valencia as one of our “recovery” spots, where we moved slowly, ate in a lot, and watched a ton of Dexter. When we did go out, we found one of the most livable cities we’ve

Beautiful Valencia

been in yet. We spent a lot of time in a massive park in the middle of the city that used to be a river. They diverged the river decades ago to prevent flooding and built a beautiful long winding park. The park was perfect for running, and it seemed like the entire city descended on it to run and walk in the evening. There was a playground themed after Gulliver’s travels where you can pretend to be a Lilliputian and crawl around on the fallen giant.

Ciutat de les Arts i les Ciències

Additionally, in this park was another little gem, the “Ciutat de les Arts i les Ciències”, the city of arts and sciences. Being pretty nerdy, both of us were excited to explore this area. Imagine a mostly white series of buildings straight out of the Jetsons with pools and running water going in between the buildings and art sculptures spattered throughout. One building was in the shape of giant whale skeleton, another more spherical, and so on.

Oh hi!

They all housed various science-y or culture based things like a nature and science museum and the Opera House.  While a lot of cities have arts and theater districts, this one was truly unique and fun.

One final day at the beach relaxing and one evening sampling various wild game local to the area and we said our goodbyes to Spain (for now) and headed to the capital city of its neighbor Portugal.

Lisbon was another city we didn’t know much about, save it was the capital of Portugal and our last stop for the European portion of our journey.  Lisbon was surprising, it is much older and historic than we expected, roughly 4 centuries older than our Roma! We stayed in the oldest historic part of Lisbon called Alfama. The thing that strikes you right off the bat about Lisbon are the colors. The houses are decorated in these intricate designs and striking colors by using tile to cover the front of the houses. We wanted to know more about these tiles, so we took a class on how to make them! They’re called Azulejos (roughly meaning tiny polished stone), and they’re pretty important to culture in Portugal. The class was a blast, you’re given instructions and a brief history lesson and then you get a tile to just go at it. They have an outline for you so you don’t have to create the design yourself, but it’s still pretty hard. Trent got yelled at multiple times by the Portuguese teacher asking him repeatedly, “Are you SURE you don’t need glasses” and disapprovingly saying “no, this is wrong”. No participation trophies here Millennials, please keep moving. After a few hours of work the nice lady takes the fruits of your labor and blasts them in a super-hot oven. At the end we were pretty impressed with our results, even if we do say so ourselves.

We had about ten days to explore, so we were able to take our time and relax and go at our own pace. Since our place only had local Portuguese channels on the TV, what did this mean?? Monopoly, Portuguese Edition. We literally played like 30 games of Monopoly in our place. “Oh no, Pague $20,000!!”.  We now feel like we have an intricate understanding of the Portuguese real estate market and financial system. Thank you Monopoly!

Sardines.

Aside from our intense gaming sessions, we got out quite a bit in Lisbon and had the great opportunity to take a food and drink tour through the capital. We took a food tour and it was a huge highlight, our guide Ruthy  walked us through the small winding streets giving history and culture lessons along the way. Stopping at various places to try the local flavor. Some fun things were a cherry liquor called Ginja that is popular. It’s crazy sweet, but the best thing about it is that little old ladies sit out and sell it to tourists coming in off cruise ships claiming it’s “homemade”, charging a couple Euro per shot. Hint, it’s not homemade :).  Sardines are really popular here, and probably would have been good enough… Except that Michele decided she wanted to see what the inside of one looked like and opened hers up. Please never do this, you will not eat a Sardine again. And a lot of deserts, including the ubiquitous and delicious pastel de nata, which was a miniature pie like pastry made from eggs, something creamy, lots of sugar, and fairy dust.  But, probably the best thing about the food tour was that it turned into a drinking tour after we met an awesome couple, Stephanie and David, who were on their honeymoon and decided to “explore” / pound Lisbon’s finest craft beers and eventually Mojitos with us. Loved everything about this tour save the hangover we all had the next day. But, it’s a small price to pay for making new friends.

Most of the rest of our time was spent exploring the winding streets, re-sampling the food (deserts, not sardines) we tried on the tour, and visiting the beach. But, as our time wound down in Lisbon as well as Europe, what we became most excited for was our decision to come home for a bit, recharge our batteries, road-trip parts of the U.S. and see our fur-baby Russell.

Actually, as we finish up writing this we are wrapping up our trip home and getting ready to head back out on what seems like is going to be the most interesting as well as challenging part of trip. North and Eastern Africa, here we come!

Places visited in states: New York, Chicago, Kansas City, Denver, Indianapolis, Nashville, New Orleans, Destin, West Palm Beach, Key West, St. Augustine, Savannah, D.C.  So much for R&R in the states! We might not ever learn!

Beer Country

Prague! You sneaky bastard.

Dancing buildings

We knew very little of Prague before going, besides the fact that the beer is cheap. Well, in reality, we had heard lots about this lovely city, but all we really heard was; the beer is cheap. Having already skipped over a few European cities, we assumed we wouldn’t make it to Prague. Again, the 90 day visa making us speed things up. Yet, curiosity and discount airlines combined make for a flexible and impromptu travel schedule. So here we are. In Prague, one of the most beautiful and unusual of cities.

First a thing about the buildings and architecture. Prague is built along the Vlata River, separated into different quarters, including the castle district and the Old and New towns. While roaming the different quarters you get a true sense of the city by this architecture.  Prague has a distinct personality, in a word quirky. The literally random smatterings of art nouveau (read: weird fun art) installments all over the city really add to its charm. It’s hard to describe, but this is one of the best preserved cities in Europe after the war, largely untouched. So many things to see, some of them obvious like the fairytale castle that overlooks the city on a hill. Many of them hidden and fun. For instance, as you are walking around you come across a 

John Lennon wall

random dude (it’s actually Sigmund Freud) hanging from a wire high above you.

Also you may stumble across a sculpture of two guys pissing on the Czech Republic. Or maybe you’ll see a John Lennon themed graffiti wall just to name a few things. It sounds strange, but somehow it all works together so well.

Peeing man

Maybe the reasons we liked Prague so much is that we didn’t have any expectations for it. Instead we just let it be it’s odd self, and we loved every bit of it.

If you’ve yet to try the AirBnB experiences in a city, get on it. For those who don’t know what they are, they are essentially an easy way to book an “experience” for the local area. Usually to help you do something unique or that is special the area you are exploring. Of the many we’ve booked, the one we did in Prague was one of the cooler experiences so far. We set up an experience to learn how to row (think competitive rowing, not row boat rowing) with a former world champion rower from Prague, Daniela. We learned the basics, and then began rowing down the Vlata River, observing the old city from the water. Daniela, a world class champion rower, was smaller than Michele and Trent is certain she could still kick his ass. We spent a few hours on the water, taking in the views of the city, the castle, the Charles Bridge. It was in every sense, an amazing experience.  Daniela was patient while we navigated the many bridges and SUPers. Our boats may or may not have collided a few times. We liked to think our boats were attracted to each other. Love on many levels!

Rotisserie style pastry ice cream cones

The following days consisted of exploring the different quarters, eating charcoal ice cream and of course drinking beer. The charcoal infused ice cream was interesting and not for those on any sort of diet. The ice cream itself was great, but the cone had a local twist. I was essentially this sugary bread baked and twisted up into the shape of a cone, with chocolate in the bottom. Because, you know, chocolate. Trent wants to use these in research to better understand massive blood sugar spikes and crashes, anything for science. Now it should be noted, that while Prague has no shortage of beer, cheap beer, the selection isn’t exactly diverse. Lots of light pilsner style beers. Not Michele’s favorite. The bars usually only carry one brand of beer, advertised by a sign hanging outside of the bar. So you may choose your bar based on the beer you like, or just suck it up regardless because most of them aren’t really that different to be honest. Typically you can find a pils, a dark, and a mix of the two beers, and that’s it for the traditional style pubs. It’s a city for beers lovers and yet again, it’s really not. It’s more of place for people who like beer, who really like cheap beer (it was often much less than $1 for a half-liter of pilsner), and don’t want to have to make a decision.

A week in Prague and we probably could have stayed longer. Charming, cheap, and easy Prague has a lot to offer the weary traveler.  Alas still have miles to go before we sleep so we hopped on a 5 hour train and landed in Munich. Home of brewhouses, lederhosen, extremely obedient sidewalk crossers, and some damn sexy German people.

English Gardens

Munich was… well… it was nice. Munich was clean. The biergartens were definitely fun. But, we have to be honest here… We weren’t really

Pretzel Man!! He’ll drink all your beer and ignore all your women!

that blown away. Really at all. The city was lovely. It had one of the best parks we’ve been in thus far (the English Gardens). But we just didn’t find that much to do besides drink and go to museums (see previous posts for our rants and admissions about museums). That being said, we’d be remiss not to talk some about what we did enjoy there. For instance, beers as big as your head! The biergartens even when we were looking to “dry out” a little, was still a lot of fun. German bands, giant pretzels, picnic tables, it’s all like you’d picture it. Very fun!

Hofbräuhaus

  Munich would be an awesome place to come just to drink and have fun with a large group of friends. Another gem of Munich was the English Gardens. A massive park with emerald green water running through it and lush green stuff everywhere. It’s in the heart of the city but it’s big enough you can actually feel alone in it! Also, you’ll stumble across local surfers who have hacked the river running through the park in places where it churns.They basically line up one after the other and surf the waves for a few secs before floating back, climbing out, and doing it all over again. Kind of wild!

English Gardens

One of the oddly frustrating things about Munich was how beholden they are to the little green man, otherwise known as the “Walk” signal for crossing streets. Literally nobody crosses unless this little guy gives them permission. Nobody. And even worse, if you decide to buck the trend and cross because, well, there are no frickin cars in sight, you risk getting scolded in German by little old ladies who are apparently the keepers of this inefficient cultural oddity. Another thing we were disappointed in is that they don’t appreciate Das Sound Machine to the level we thought they would. Aca-scuse me??? (FYI: If you understand this last joke then we will immediately be best friends).

Our so-so visit to Munich hopefully doesn’t dissuade anyone from visiting Germany, we think we’re just at an exhaustion point of travel and going out and partying at the biergartens just isn’t in the cards right now. The countryside that we got see on our train ride in was breathtaking, and that by itself is enough to go back and explore some of the smaller towns outside of Munich and get better feel for what the people are about. Germany is huge. One day we’ll return to explore the rest. As far now, we are on to warmer pastures.

European fun facts:
Blue Moon is the one American beer served everywhere.
People smoke cigarettes like it’s the early 90s

Days until we are back in States for a visit: 20
# of days we can withstand before seeing Russell:  -105

Spain and Portugal are up next!

This Post is Not for Everyone

“Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.” – Brene Brown

Here, in this post, you will not find talk of tropical paradises and stunning views. You will not read about hikes through olive groves to find nude beaches, nor will you read how we met other travelers and the lot of us danced and drank the night away.

In truth, this post might be more therapeutic for me (Michele). Maybe even a little self-indulgent, and it may not be your cup of tea. You can go ahead and skip to the next post where we once again describe the abundant beauty and magic that comes with travel and exploration. You can look back at pictures of us smiling, pictures of beautiful mountains and waters. You are not held here at your own will. You can leave. I do not have a tracker that tells me how long you read a certain post. I don’t even have a tracker of who reads this. (So far I know we have at least 10 consistent followers as they send us texts asking when the next post will be. You guys rock.)

Again, this post is not for everyone. You’ve been sufficiently warned and I take no responsibility for your displeasure or the boredom you’ll feel if you choose to venture further.

OKAY.

The journey to self-discovery is a fickle bitch, especially when self-discovery wasn’t on your to-do list in the first place. Something I’ve come to realize about myself is a constant need for routine and independence. They are not mutually exclusive, and might even be the two things I need to be happy. Happy? Maybe grounded is the better word here. Routine makes me feel in control of my life and independence keeps me present. I’m sitting in a café and for the first time since we began this arduous journey, I have spent this day alone. Completely alone, not speaking to people, save for the beer I just ordered to help push me through this post. This is not a typical day alone. Of course, it began like any other, coffee in bed, a read through the Skimm and my usual daily intention; breathe and don’t die. One requires great effort on my part and the other is dependent on the risks I’m willing to take that day and how the stars align, if you’re into that kind of stuff. Speaking of stars and stuff, I’m a Sagittarius and I completely identify with the characteristics of my sign. The good, the bad, and the ugly. For instance, when I hear that I’m passionate, adventurous and loyal, I’m all hell yeah! Those sound cool. When I see that I am also stubborn, impatient, over-analytical and at times tactless, my first thought is nah, not me. I’ve never stuck my foot in my mouth because I didn’t carefully weigh what I was about to say. That absolutely cannot be me. Well, maybe once. Okay. Sometimes. Fine. Whatever. I’ll work on it.

These are things I think about these days. With so much time on my hands with no job or purpose, I’ve recently turned to trying to cure myself of everything that sucks. For starters, how can I listen more and think less. I didn’t, and still don’t, have a plan on how to be the best me. I just know the thing that is standing in my way. This thing has a name and its name is vulnerability. It’s taken me 32 years (well, not entirely 32 years. Let’s face it, I wasn’t a narcissistic 6-year-old facing an existential crisis) or somewhere close to that to realize that my shortcomings are due to my inability and uneasiness with being vulnerable. Vulnerability that when I am like, “hey, look over here. Learn something about yourself.” Vulnerability says “Nah, I’m good. I’ll stay here in my perpetual state of happy oblivion.”.

Of course, sometimes we aren’t given the choice whether to be vulnerable. Still, there is almost always a hesitation in what I do and say for fear of giving away too much. What if I “do” it wrong or “say” it wrong. Sometimes even my “opening-up” can be half-hearted, something resembling the truth, or at least a story of the truth. I’ve always felt that revealing too much would open me up to criticism and I certainly didn’t want to be typecast so-to-speak. “We can’t rely on her, she has too many feelings.”, is what I imagined would follow complete openness on my part. Maybe Freud has a word for this? Another topic, another day. As cathartic as it feels to write this, I’m also most certain that these words won’t make it to print (if you’re reading this, I was wrong.)

It’s much easier to take beautiful photos and make others smile.

Instead, today, I feel drawn to tell a recent experience. It may seem TMI for some, and sure you might be right. Now is a good time to close the computer and resume your regularly scheduled program. Or wait for our next post. For others, it might seem like a boring, woe is me moment. Also true. However, I am choosing to let go of this fear in hopes that this story resonates with someone. Also equally as important: for the sake of living in this moment and embracing all things that are me, Michele.

Telling this story for all to see is out of character for me. I keep things pretty close to the vest, not blast them for all to see. Only a select few have truly seen behind the curtain. This however, is real life and in real life, shit happens. And it sometimes sucks. I’m sharing this next part because it is one of the most frightening things I’ve gone through and one of my wisest friends told me that it might be good to put it out there. Write it down. Then maybe share it.

So for me, this is what vulnerability looks like…

Michele, and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day.

I’m going to write this as if it were the present because I think it will be the only way I can truly explain how it felt.

We are in Split, Croatia and heading via ferry to the island of Hvar, which takes a little over an hour. We’ve been moving non-stop for a bit, something we vowed not to do anymore, and I’m feeling a bit worn down, and not quite myself. I preemptively take my Dramamine and board the ferry, ready to take in the ocean views (recently I came to the realization that a calm day on the ocean is much like a rough day on a lake and therefore, Dramamine.) I look around and see that no one was going to the top deck and the seats were filling up fast. For whatever reason, they were not allowing people to go up top. Now let me say, that I’ve always been a little claustrophobic. I’m 5’2” and standing in a crowd where I cannot see an exit has made me pit-out more than once. The scene from the Lion King where young Simba is being rundown by thousands of gazelles is what I picture my death looking like. Additionally, I’ve dealt with episodes of anxiety over the years, everything from giving presentations to thinking about terminal illnesses I might have. I don’t mean to confuse you. I’m a pretty relaxed person and feel so grateful for my life. I do all the yoga, I focus on being present, I nurture my relationships, yada yada yada. I thought this was me showing my authentic self, but my mind can wander sometimes, especially when routine and independence have gone to the wayside. Most people would be surprised to hear this. To that, I’m sorry to shatter the rose-colored image you had of me. Or maybe you already knew I could go dark at any minute. Either way. I continue…

So, I’m sitting on the ferry, it’s filling up with people and I’m in a small seat, smooshed against the window. Then, it hits me. Within a split second, my heart is pounding through my chest, I’m sweating all over and beginning to tremble. My skin is burning. My arms are cramping. I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. I try breathing deeply, but my breaths are so shallow that I begin to think I have a blocked airway and I touch my throat. The cabin feels like the oxygen is gone. I scan the boat for an exit. There isn’t one. I need air. We’ve started moving and they’ve latched the outside doors. The ceiling appears to be getting lower and I want to scream. My seat is squeezing me tighter. Adrenaline is surging through my body and I need to run. I don’t feel like a person. A man says something to me and I’m not sure what it was. I shake my head and look out the window. The only thing I know for certain and like a broken record keeps echoing in my head, and it is saying that I am going to die. (I cannot stress enough that this is not a figure of speech. This feeling was real, palpable.) I’m convinced and acutely aware that I am going to die in this shrinking box. My body feels like it’s shutting down. I don’t understand what is happening and I begin to cry. I can no longer see, everything just a blur in front of me. Trent says something to me and I can hear his voice, but can’t see him. I think I’m going to pass out. Right when I think I can take no more, my heart slows, my vision sharpens and I realize that I was having a full-blown panic attack.

If you’ve never had a panic attack, you won’t be able to understand how terrifying this was. Nothing and I mean nothing has hit me quite like this, and I couldn’t escape. Whenever I’ve ever felt uncomfortable in situations, I’ve always been able to leave. Not this time. This was the worst feeling I’ve ever had.

The panic attack passes and I’m feeling strung out and exhausted, mentally and physically. It’s over. I’m fine. We make it to land and I sleep the rest of the day.

The next couple days were supposed to be blissful, relaxing in a remote village on an island with nothing to do but chill. One of these days was exactly like that, a long hike, a yoga sesh, some meditation, a glass of wine, a beautifully orange sunset, and the prior ferry episode just a weird glitch in the matrix. The last full day, however, started abruptly at 3:00 in the morning when I woke to an eruption of acid in my stomach that instantly made me throw up. I went back to bed and an hour later, it happened again. And again an hour later. By this point, anxious energy begins coursing through me again and by late morning, I think that another panic attack is imminent. This only makes me more sick. I begin thinking of hypotheticals. What if I don’t stop getting sick? I’m going to be vomiting forever, I just know it. I start thinking about the early morning ferry ride the next day to another island and the time between each vomiting session begins to quicken. What if they don’t let us up top again? What if I have another panic episode? What if I die in the middle of the ocean because I can’t breathe? What if the boat sinks and I die? What if this? What if that? No one can talk me out of this insane downward spiral. I feel utterly alone in this shit storm of anxiety and I’m terrified beyond anything. I can’t eat anything or drink anything. This lasts for hours. Hours of throwing up. Crying. No, sobbing rather. Wringing my hands. Asking what is happening to me. The longer the feeling lasts, the more intense it gets. I fall asleep at one point from exhaustion. I wake up 2 hours later and within minutes of thinking about the craziness of the morning, I’m in it again. Anxiety takes over my body and I’m getting sick again. The room is hot and I start thinking of ways to get off the island. The whole afternoon continues like this. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?! I call my mom. I call my friends. I try meditating. I tell myself that this is anxiety, but I’ve never had anxiety like this. My brain rationalizes that this is the new me. I will forever feel afraid and I will live out my days on this island.  It is making all the other times when I thought I had anxiety seem like I was misusing the term. This is real anxiety. I’m making myself sick with worry, literally. I threw up the whole day. By the evening, I’m finally able to talk with a couple friends who provide me with momentary ease, their voices soothing and supportive. As soon as the phone calls ends, I begin crying because I think I’ve literally gone crazy.

It’s now midnight. I feel like I’m starting to suffocate in the room I’ve been in all day. I need to leave. I put on my shoes and walk outside. I start to calm. I keep walking. I walk to the water down a steep hill and walk back up. My heart is pounding but this time because of the exertion. I finally began to think clearly. Only at this point do the soothing words of two of my best friends begin to truly register in my head. I’m okay. I’m calm. Wow. What was that? I’m in awe of the power of my own mind and actually laugh out loud at one point. I return and finally go to sleep.

All I can say is HOLY F*@&!

I got on the ferry the next day and with the podcast Two Dope Queens and a lavender bag that I huffed the full hour and a half, I was able to make it to the next island. The next couple days, I start to return to my normal self, I feel peace, the events of the two days feeling like someone else’s memory.

How do I never go back there? Because of that one time in college where I self-diagnosed every disease or illness you could think of, this time I avoid the internet. I will not go down that rabbit hole again.

I need to take care of myself and what this experience has taught me so far is that I’m more vulnerable and sensitive to unknown situations than I knew. There is a silver lining somewhere in this experience and I’m looking forward to when it shines. After all, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? I believe Kelly Clarkson was the very first to say this. We are humans. I could beat myself up over what happened or I could acknowledge that I am human and life comes at us hard sometimes. It does not mean we’ve failed. It does not mean we’re crazy. It means we can become overwhelmed if we aren’t kind to ourselves. Going forward, I will give myself more time to breathe, more time to pursue what I love and listen to my mind and body more carefully. A routine and time to reflect has become a top priority for me now.

Congratulations for making it through this entire post! I hope you didn’t fall asleep while reading.

And thank you.