Greatest Hits: my top 10 SEA photos

In remembrance of the year that has gone by since I’ve started my blog, and the approximate 12 months since I visited Southeast Asia, I wanted to take a trip down memory lane and post my top 10 photos (as voted on by ME) from my travels in SEA, along with a little backstory on each one. All photos were shot on a Canon Powershot SX20 IS.

Without further ado, my personal top 10:

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This photo was taken on a tiny island (if you could even call it that) in the straights of Malacca, just off the coast of Ao Nang, southern Thailand. My friends and I had taken a deep water soloing trip and this was our lunch stop in between climbs. Our guide packed us fried rice and we took our lunch on the outside of a cave with this view of our boat in front of us.

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Taken while touring the grand palace in Bangkok, this row row of “guardians” lined the entire perimeter of the temple housing the Emerald Buddha. I can remember the heat on this day being unbearable amidst all the concrete of the royal complex.

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A spectacular post-sunset shot on Koh Phi Phi, while I was sitting on the porch of my hillside bungalow. At the rooftop bar in the bottom of the shot you can see they were projecting a replay of the nearby filmed movie, “The Beach”.

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The Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Walking into the buildings takes you through a high end shopping mall, including a movie theatre and food court. Outside is a wonderfully clean public park and gardens. After touring the park, my friends and I settled in for back to back movies at the theatre. The movies were one of my most memorable experiences due to the cheap tickets, spotless theatre and absence of previews before the show.

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At sunset, touring the massive complex of Wat Phra Dhammakaya, just north of Bangkok. These statues were situated at the entrance of the massive space used for huge public meditations. The “arena” was larger than any professional sports complex I’ve ever seen, housing over 100,000 people in group meditation. At the center of the concrete complex sits a 5 ton silver Buddha encased by a golden dome covered in 100,000 tiny golden Buddha statues.

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Another sunset, this time within the ruins of Angkor Wat archeological park, sitting atop the elephant temple of Phnom Bakheng, the very first temple-mountain build in Angkor. The temple symbolizes the mythical Mount Meru in the Hindi religion. This is by far the best spot to take in the sunset in the park, but visitors beware, if you don’t get there early, you will be stuck at the bottom waiting in the queue.

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Looking up at my dive partner Dave Ho while training off the coast of Koh Tao for our Advanced certifications. Dave was one awesome dude, an Asian-American, Massachusetts native, who was currently taking a vacay in Thailand from his job in China.

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Inside the compound of the main Angkor Wat temple, just after sunrise. These structures were just massive in person, hard to imagine a monk wandering the grounds hundreds of years ago, just as I was that day. In the shot you can see Kelvin and Sophie, my two traveling buddies I met during the mind bending border crossing into Cambodia. Without them, I don’t think I would have made it to Angkor, nor would I have had near as much fun.

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Looking down on the isolated paradise of Railay Beach in southern Thailand. We had to to scale a rocky, muddy, rooty precipice to get to this unofficial overlook. Railay beach can only be accessed by boat and it is home to a huge community of rock climbers and monkeys, however I was more surprised to find out that Railay is a haven for both cannabis enthusiasts and the LBGT community.

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Just another long tail boat, ferrying passengers from Ao Nang to Railay for less than $5, with the signature southwestern Thai backdrop. Typical Thai ferryman smoking a cigarette while operating a makeshift auto-engine turned prop motor.

Surfing in Englischer Garten, Munich

Before I get into my current goings-on here in the Southeastern USA, I have a few more stories to share from my recent European travels. If you won’t mind taking a trip back in time with me, smack-dab in the middle of my East to West, European traverse, after an incredible 8 hour train exodus from Venice into the heart of Bavaria, I arrived in Munchen Hauptbahnhof, one of the most impressive train stations I’ve ever witnessed. A true testament to the renowned German engineering, the station was clean, bright, organized and boasting one of the best food courts for a transportation depot I’ve ever experienced.

20121227-204424.jpg After milling around the train station for a while, enjoying the free WiFi (kudos Krauts), I decided to head out into the city and find a place to shack up for the night. I didn’t have to travel far, within 100 yards of the station there were no less than 5 quality hostels to be found. After snooping around a few and checking the rates I settled on the Jager’s Hostel (not sure about the relation to the frat-boy party liquor) and checked myself into your typical 12 bunk, one bathroom, coed backpacker Hilton (I did opt out of the 40 bunk room).

20121227-204750.jpg Since the sun was shining and I was running on the adrenaline high that a new location sometimes brings, I set out into the heart of the city to try and see a few sights. My main destination for the day: Englischer Garten. Slightly north of the city center, Englischer Garten, is one of the worlds largest urban public parks, larger than NYC’s Central Park. The name is obviously German for “English Garden”, but this is in reference to the style of informal landscape gardening used throughout the 1.4 square mile park, not, ” bad food, worse weather and Marry Fu@?!&$ Poppins!”. It’s an easy walk to the park from historic Munich, just head north from the Glockenspiel and you will walk through some tight city streets and monuments before emerging into open public park space. It was at this juncture during my walk that the sun disappeared and a chilly rain started to fall. Dressed in shorts, a tee shirt and a thin raincoat, I soon realized that my attire was inadequate for the change in temperature. I tried to stay out of the rain as much as possible, but cover was sparse. I ducked under trees, tunnels and awnings until I reached the park proper. Once inside the park there was little I could do to avoid the precipitation, but the tree canopy at least turned the steady rain into a light sprinkle. Heading through the park from South to North, one of the first areas you encounter is the Japanese Garden, highlighted by a pond surrounding a Japanese style tea house. On this particular day, despite the rainfall, there was a festival taking place. I couldn’t quite make out the specifics of the festival, but from what I could gather it was a type of Japanese heritage event that was mainly attended by German youths in all manner of strange Anime-type dress. Many individuals were dressed as Japanese cartoon characters, both human and animal. Interesting to say the least.

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20121227-210503.jpg After getting past the festival tents and traveling to the Eastern edge of the park I came upon one of the most popular attractions in Munich, “The Wave”. The small creek that fed the pond in the Japanese garden turned into a steady stream and then into a full blown torrent. Where the artificial river begins, from a culvert under a city bridge, a raised concrete slab creates an artificial wave that surfers from all around Europe come to shred.

20121227-210712.jpg Even in the cold rainy weather, there were no less than 20 surfers that day clad in full wetsuits, lined up for their turn to jump on the break. Below is a short video I compiled of the riders that day:

After being mesmerized by the surfers for over 30 minutes the cold became too much for me to handle, I had to find shelter and stop my teeth from chattering. I walked the Eastern edge of the park and I shortly came upon an oasis, a small shack selling food and drink! The shack had no obvious name or signage, but it reminded me of something from Hansel and Gretel.

20121228-110338.jpg I stepped inside the small building and bellied up to the counter to order a German specialty: Weisswurst. Literally translating to, “white sausage”, this is a Bavarian specialty that is usually eaten as a snack between breakfast and lunch. Most Bavarians eat their Weisswurst before noon because it is made early in the morning without preservatives and would typically spoil before nightfall. The sausage is made with a combination of veal and pork belly mixed with spices such as parsley, lemon, onions, ginger and cardamom. The sausage is usually served with sweet grainy mustard, alongside a soft salted pretzel. The sausage was light and soft to the taste and a bite with the sweet sticky mustard was a revelation. Since I was breaking the rules and eating my Weisswurts around 4pm, I also opted to add a German Radler to wash it all down. A Radler is a refreshing Bavarian creation of beer mixed with lemonade. I’m usually not the kind of guy to mix fruit in my beer, and I admit I was skeptical before trying it, but this particular blend is on point. Legend has it that it’s creation was a mistake, a sneaky bartender who was low on beer one day, decided to mix lemonade with his remaining brew in order to quench the thirst of the many parched cyclist that approached his tavern. To his surprise, the cyclists came back year after year to have another of these unique beverages and thus the, “Radler” (Cyclist), was born.

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20121228-113126.jpg After filling my belly and getting as warm as I could, I set my bearing south and began to head back to my hostel. Due to my near-hypothermic state I decided not to explore the north side of the park, but I hear there is a fantastic Bier Garten in that section of the park called the Chinese tower. So if you are in Munich, I suggest that you don’t miss out on the Englischer Garten, it was definitely one of the highlights of my time in the city.

Meet Croatia

Just as I was beginning to fall for Vienna, I leave to continue on my jouney south. While vagabonding, I’ve often found it to be the case where as soon as I get a handle on a country’s currency, language and customs I decide to bound off somewhere new to repeat the process all over again. Comfort and familiarity are always a fingertip away from this travelers reach, but that is the key to much of the excitement I get to experience. I do think I am getting better at the adjustment period with each successive place I visit. I like to think its a bit like the technological progress of mankind: with each new development the next comes exponentially sooner. This day, I start my adjustment to Croatia, or as the Serbo-Croats call it Hrvatska.

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Inside a cramped but interestingly retro (a nice way of saying old) sleeper car, with 2 British travelers, the bittersweet memories of Vienna faded quickly when I awoke at dawn to the gorgeous scenery of the Croatian countryside gliding past my train car. I found myself glued to the window from the moment I wiped the sleep from my eyes and adjusted to the misty daylight. Piney green rolling hills gave way to mounds of arid Balkan splendor. Soon the deep blue, crystal clear waters of the Mediterranean came into view and squat towns filled with red roofed homes gained in frequency as my train approached the city of Split, Croatia.

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Hopping off at the Split train station at 7am, energized by my new surroundings, I headed off to the waterfront to find food and my requisite daily caffeine dosage. I’ve come to terms with the fact that it is incredibly difficult to find a decent high-protein breakfast in this part of the world, so I find myself sitting in a seaside coffee bar listening to Bob Marley and eating a breakfast of Americano and croissant. Entering into the, “coffee culture”, part of Europe, starting in Vienna and now in Italian influenced Croatia, there are always outdoor locations with loads of patrons sitting outside in lovely cafes, but no one is eating, only sipping piping hot espresso and nibbling on a biscotti or two. This can be immensely frustrating when you have a growling belly and each cafe looks like a shining oasis to your hunger.
Many people (especially Americans) ask me, “why Croatia?”. Easy answer: culture, language and currency. It also helps that the city of Split is the San Diego of Croatia, lots of sunshine with a high of 86 and predictions of less than 2″ of rain in July. In comparison, many of the seaside towns of Spain, France and Italy have been culturally decimated by tourism. It’s difficult to find an ounce of authentic food or craftsmanship amidst the hoards of cruise boat tourists and gypsy vendors trying to appease them with unauthentic imported crap. While Croatia hasn’t entirely flown under the radar of the tourists and gypsy touts, they still remain a pleasant minority. I imagine that the Croatian coast is what Italy used to be 10-20 years ago. Split goes by several local nicknames; “the most beautiful city in the world” and “city of champions” to name a few. The latter name stems from the numerous athletes that call the city home. The city is drenched in the colors of the local soccer team, Hajduk, and murals to the team are painted around every corner of its cramped streets.

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Many in my generation may recall the championship Chicago Bulls teams of the 90s, which included one of my favorite role players of all time, Tony Kukoc, also a Split product and also a Champion.
In southeast Asia, no matter what area I found myself in, my eardrums were always bombarded by the same techno-pop top-20 playlist, I was relived to discover that the Croats of Split seem to enjoy 70s easy listening music and a variety of shag-similar beach music, instead of the pulse pounding house beats I was so tired of hearing in Asia. The language is Croatian (obviously) and is a typical Slavic language, but this also meant that many of the words I learned in Czech Republic and Poland were applicable here (or a close variation), so I wasn’t completely lost in translation. It can also be noted that since Split is a beach town that many non-western tourists frequent, many of the essential signs and menus are translated. As for my third reason listed above, currency, Croatia isn’t using the Euro, they stick by their own mint, the Kuna. The exchange ratio is favorable to the USD which makes my budget happy. Coming from Euro dominated Vienna, it was like going outlet shopping for everything from sunglasses to food.
Another aspect of the culture is the food; a unique mix of Italian and Greek influence, judged by my western palate. Dinner is typically eaten very late, usually 9pm or later, I found myself sitting alone in deserted restaurants around 7pm on more than one occasion. After a few nights of adjustment, I realized that this schedule meshes with the eating habits bestowed upon me by my family. Back in the US of A I usually took my supper at 10pm. An important part of the Croatian dining experience are carbs, lots of em’. They force bread on you at every meal, I made the mistake of turning it down once, only to receive a confused scowl in exchange. In short, I’m eating ice cream, bread and pasta every day, a far cry from my usual eating habits, but hey, it’s all locally sourced and organic so it can’t be all that bad. The “must try” dishes in Croatia are Gnocchi and Risotto, I had the best Gnocci I’ve ever tasted at Bon Apetit, an eatery located within the Diocletian Palace walls of Split.

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Handmade nuggets of gnocchi pasta slathered in a gorgonzola cheese sauce and accompanied by a bowl of fresh black olives. I could eat this dish once a week for the rest of my life. The risotto of the Croatian coast comes in many varieties, including the famous Black Risotto, usually served with puffer fish. My personal favorite was the shrimp scampi risotto, the only drawback being that Croats prefer their shrimp with head and exoskeleton intact. After the first few I just decided to go with the crunchy flow and wash it all down with the cold Karlovacko.

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For a Latin geek like me, Split is also a visual gold mine. Split was originally an ancient greek colony called Aspalathos in the 6th century BC and later became known more famously for the retirement palace of Diocletian in AD 305. The palace and its walls still stand today, built from local limestone and marble of high quality, and they surround the many shops, eateries, hotels and monuments of the city center. In old town Split, restaurants and hotels leave their walls exposed in order to showcase the white stone and mortar of the ancient Diocletian palace. Archways adorn almost every entryway and window and the white cobblestone has become slick as glass due to heavy foot traffic for centuries. The palace was constructed to be Diocletian’s retirement home, after he almost died of an illness, making him the first Roman Emperor to voluntarily remove himself from office. The palace is rectangular in shape and surrounded on all sides by 70 ft walls. Over the centuries the interior of the palace has been built to house more and more tightly constructed buildings, making way for cramped but romantic streets for foot traffic only. At one point, the walls of the palace enclosed a population of 10,000. Of course these days the palace marks the center of a much more sprawling city of Split and is the epicenter of tourism and cultural heritage, making it a UNESCO World Heritage Monument.

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The last two photos above show the Emperors apartments and religious buildings, including Diocletian’s mausoleum, now transformed into the Cathedral of St. Domnius. The stairs of the bell tower of the cathedral can be climbed (for a small fee) and it reveals some incredible views of the surrounding palace, city and ocean.

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Next to the cathedral is the Peristyle, a monumental court that gives central access to the Emperors religious buildings. The Peristyle is also home to a couple of authentic sphinxes, imported from Egypt by Diocletian.

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Of course this area is now the center tourist attraction and meeting spot for all tourist activity within the palace walls, however, I was surprised to discover how alive the palace seemed to be with local activity of residents pruning their gardens, tending to their homes and attending local fish markets. Even with the periodic influx of tourists, life goes on as usual within the palace walls for many Split citizens, as it has for centuries. From togas to t-shirts.

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Not far from the palace is the recreational park of Marjan Hill, established by Diocletian for the many residents and servants of his palace grounds. Still a very important cultural and recreational landmark for Croatians. I took on the steep climb on a hot day in order to soak in one of the best vistas in Croatia.

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In the evenings, the palace is tastefully illuminated and walking the tight streets sometimes transported my imagination back to the Classical times.

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It also helped that I experienced one of the coolest hostel experiences in my travels. I stayed at the Diocletian Palace Hostel, built into the ancient limestone walls and just a couple hundred feet from the Peristyle. The hostel lobby and restaurant are fashionably modern and the staff extremely friendly. The rooms, however, depend on your co-occupants. As you can see below, my lodgings were a bit unkempt due to a rambunctious group of young Austrians.

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All in all, Split was awesome. One of my favorite travel spots and a place I could seriously consider long-term. The only thing I wouldn’t recommend….don’t get an I heart split t-shirt…for obvious reasons amongst English speakers.

Schonbrunn Palace and Zoo

During my stay in Vienna, I knew I wanted to take a day (or two) to visit Schloss Schonbrunn, one of the most important cultural monuments of Austria. The palace and it’s gardens were constructed to the be the summer home (and recreational hunting grounds) for successive Hapsburg monarchs. The Hapsburg monarchs are best known for providing all the elected Holy Roman Emperors for over 3 centuries and for a time they could claim true, “world power”, due to their vast territories along with fairly undisputed political and religious control. Of course all this stuff about arranged marriages, family trees and church hierarchy would be well and interesting for you to learn about, but what I feel was the true fruit of their 600 year dominion over Austria is what now has become the Schonbrunn Tiergarten (Zoo). The majority of my venture into Schloss Schonbrunn turned out to be a meandering circuit around this zoo, which, founded in 1752, claims to be the oldest zoo in the world. So just like a good children’s book, this post will now be more about the pictures than the words:

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The fist challenge is finding the Zoo. Once you enter the walls of Schonbrunn gardens there are miles of gravel paths through rows of trees and mazes of shrubbery. It’s a truly beautify walk, but can be frustrating when you are looking for something specific. Being my typical wandering self, I accepted the fate of getting a bit lost and enjoyed a warm summer day exploring the massive gardens until I came upon the surprisingly non-ostentatious entrance to the Zoo. The Zoo was originally opened to the public in 1779 and initially entrance was free, but of course there is no opulent monarchy keeping the animals fed these days a pass for the day was only 12 Euros, a bargain compared to some zoos and aquariums I’ve visited in the states. If I’m not mistaken, it costs at least $15 to get into the Charleston aquarium.

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The zoo was constructed in 1752 to be the Imperial Menagerie for the Habsburgs and upon entering you are confronted with the baroque architecture of the central pavilion, known now as the Kaiser Pavilion, which served as the center of the menagerie and the location for imperial breakfasts. Even with some of the newly added modern elements, there is still a great sense of the 18th architecture all around the zoo.

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Inside one such menagerie-style building is probably the most famous inhabitant of the Zoo, the Giant Pandas. Schonbrunn Tiergarten is one of the few places in the world to house and successfully breed Giant Pandas. Get on with your bad self Panda, you are black, white and asian.

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Many of the animals in the zoo were obtained through expeditions to Africa by the Habsburg royalty. Giraffes were brought in in 1828 and consequently inspired a whole line of Viennese fashion.

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The most recent modern addition to the zoo is the Orangerie, which doesn’t make OJ, it houses a family of orangutans

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Radiating from the Kaiser Pavilion like slices of a Viennese cake are the many sections of the old zoo. One such section houses the big cats. Lions, Tigers, Cheetah and Jaguar/Leopard. Unfortunately in 2002 a young caretaker was attacked by a jaguar during feeding, killing her in front of zoo visitors. The zoo has been plagued by several such unfortunate incidents, but I saw nothing of the sort during my visit.

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Much more docile than the big cats were these lazy-ass koalas.

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The Hip-hopopotamus, his lyrics are bottomless.

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Prairie doggin it.

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Rockhopper penguinos, hoppin rocks during feeding time.

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Sea lions posing for my shot.

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Monkeys of various shapes and sizes going about their monkey business. No poo was thrown in the making of this blog post.

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Baby wolf and big-arse white Wolf (aka Ghost). Jon Snow represent!

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Rhinoceros with a bad case of mudd-butt. Are rhinos just fat lazy unicorns?

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Tortoise.

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My self-proclaimed spirit animal, the ring tailed lemur.

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Inside the simulated jungle habitat. Just like in a jungle, you can’t see anything.

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Piranhas in 3D.

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Awesome bioluminescent jelly fish. Neither jelly, nor fish.

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Striped horses.

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Lawn ornamentation.

The Schonbrunn Tiergarten has experienced an interesting (if not trying) history in the past century. The two world wars took a tremendous toll on the animal life. World War one resulted in major food shortages causing a decline from 3,500 specimens to only 900. World War two was much more devastating since Vienna was the site of multiple bombing raids. When the bombs fell over Schonbrunn many buildings and animals were destroyed, bringing the number of specimens to a lowly 400. More recently there was the aforementioned jaguar accident and another trainer being crushed by an elephant, this placed a lot of strain on the directors of the zoo and initiated a carousel of new leadership that left the zoo on shaky financial ground. Things are looking up for the zoo now, after seeing an increased interest in sponsorship from companies and steady leadership at the helm. After seeing almost every animal in the zoo and fulfilling my daily requirement of childish wonderment, I finally made my way back into the gardens of Schloss Schonbrunn to peruse the rest of the royal grounds and palace.

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My next visual encounter was the picturesque Palm Pavilion, in full bloom.

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I then made my way through the rows of greenery until emerged in the grand french garden of the palace itself. To my left was the gigantic 1,441 room yellow palace and to my right was massive hill and Gloriette. Despite the heat, I decided to hike the 60 meter high hill to the Gloriette.

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The Gloriette is kind of a random structure built by the Habsburgs to commemorate their greatness and have a neat spot to chill out-max and have tea parties. The structure was built using all recycled stone and has many Roman motifs scattered about it.

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The view from the Gloriette was really stunning, with the palace and it’s gardens below and the cityscape of Vienna in the background.

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After descending the hill and walking through the gardens, I came around to the front entrance of the palace and got the full frontal money shot of the imperial greatness. Easily realizing how this site made it onto the UNESCO World Heritage list as a stunning example of baroque splendor.

In summary, If you find yourself in Vienna, be sure to hit up the Schloss Schonbrunn, it’s worth the U-Bahn trip.

Vienna: from Wirst to First

From its beginnings as a Roman encampment along the Danube, Vienna (Wien as most of the world calls it) has sprung into a sprawling metropolis with an international appeal. The city is rich with opera, symphony, balls, white wine, schnitzel, coffee and cakes. Many would consider the Viennese culture as opulence at its height, but for me it just highlighted the drastic differences between central and western European cultures. Strolling around the city I noticed an amazing confluence of modern and historic architecture, paired with a cleanliness and knack for sensible urban planning. The language is German but French, Spanish, Italian or English are never far from your ears. There is also globalized signage, which was a definite relief after the likes of Ukraine, Poland and Czech Republic. I got lost far less often and it’s never too hard to find someone who speaks English when needed.

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I arrived in Vienna via train (certainly my favorite method of transportation), I took the 10:30am EuroCity train out of Ostrava and arrived in Vienna around 2pm. The EuroCity train was top notch as always, fast, comfy, clean and efficient. After taking a moment to orient myself around the Vienna train station I consulted Google Maps on my phone with the free WiFi provided by the station (kudos Wien). I pre-booked my hotel this time (the night before) and noticed that it was quite a hike from the Wein Meidling train station to where my digs were located. No problemo, I simply walked 20 paces to the nearest subway (U-Bahn) kiosk and purchased a 72 hour universal pass for around 19 Euros. The U-Bahn is directly connected to the train station, a testament to sensible city planners and Austrian ingenuity.

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Now I like to believe that my travels have allowed me to gain a better sense of direction and analysis of subway maps, but it’s one thing for a small town guy to navigate the subway system of a US city and an entirely different struggle with an international city. Much is based on instinct and gut feelings, along with an overalls sense of spatial awareness (and it dosent hurt to have the satellite GPS on your iPhone, so long as it feels like working properly). luckily, Vienna’s subway is one of the best performing public transportation systems worldwide with maps that are relatively easy to comprehend. The main difficulty is remembering the names of the station stops, since the German language seems to have some of the longest nouns I’ve ever seen. Therefore, I made it to my hotel without much ado.

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Now the word, “hotel”, is really an exaggeration for where I stayed. Once one enters the countries controlled by the Euro, you experience an incredible jump in accommodation prices. So instead of going the hostel route, one can choose to book a room in the many student dorms that have been converted into makeshift “hotels” for the summer. I happen to think that it’s a rather sensible option after my stint in a student dorm in Krakow, so I had no qualms booking a room online with “AllYouNeed Hotel 4″ in Vienna, I guess the name should tell you all you need to know.

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There was sufficient space, handy shelving, free breakfast and even complementary (and nutritional) Jago juice. However, I quickly realized the drawbacks of the dorm-hotel, specifically: no air-conditioning. I realize that most European countries don’t have much in the way of A/C, but this was July in the city and it was hottt. Coping with the heat in Vienna was tough, I didnt expect to be more uncomfortable in a European country than in Asia. In Asia I at least had the luxury of a fan, apparently Europe has yet to figure out the benefits of circulating air…after a few sweltering nights in my dorm room, my inner MacGyver kicked in and I realized that I could fashion my own, “cool zone”, using the shower. By turning the cold water on full blast and cracking the shower door, I created a respite from the heat, provided that I was ok with sitting on the toilet seat for long stints.
To escape the unbearable daytime heat of my room, I spent many of my waking hours walking the city. Now I’ve already gone on the record in stating that Prague is the most beautiful city I’ve seen, but I’ve got to say that Vienna runs a close second. Not being know for as much tourism as Prague, one can certainly tell that Vienna is more business oriented, with lots of infrastructure lending towards the locals. Almost any touristy area is shared by visitors and locals alike. One such location that I really enjoyed was the Naschmarkt, Vienna’s most popular street market.

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Over a kilometer long, the Naschmarkt has existed since the 16th century and plays host to many vendors and cafes. In its early history the Naschmarkt was famous for selling milk bottles that were then made from wood from the Ash tree, which led to the name Aschenmarkt and then later mutated to its current name. In present day you can buy any number of fruits, vegetables, exotic spices, fresh fish and raw or cured meats. It’s truly a kaleidoscope of colors and smells as you walk the narrow alley.

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As you can see from above, I was able to procure quite the scrumptious lunch from my wanderings in the market. It’s also worth noting that in a city bent on the inflated Euro, the market is one of the cheapest ways to get a good meal and stash a few dry goods for snacks later on.
Continuing my walkabout around the spotless streets and manicured parks of Vienna, I ran into many a statue or monument to famous residents. The city is famous for its great composers, thinkers and artists. A culture that is still dominating in present day with elements of artistic influence found all over and with students that fill the streets with their own music and art.

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Making my way to the historic city center, I started to encounter the typical traditional sights of the many great European cities: giant catholic churches, elegant squares and the wonderful mixture of architecture that can only be found in places this old.

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Touring a city by foot can work up quite the appetite, so I began a search for the traditional cuisine of Austria: Wiener-schnitzel. My quest lead me to rather residential part of town and a small restaurant named Gassner’s Wirsthaus. On a cool night that was sputtering rain I was apparently the only hungry individual frequenting this particular Wirsthaus, however this was not a reflection on the quality. I had, without a doubt, the best Wiener-schnitzel I’ve ever tasted. Two golden heaping portions spritzed with fresh lemon and stacked on top of plain potatoes boiled to a soft perfection and seasoned with a bit of dill. This feast was washed down with 2 glasses of delicious Viennese white wine. I highly recommend this joint to anyone visiting Vienna, it’s worth the trek and was also very reasonably priced.

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Once I got my hooks into the city and obtained a solid feel for my surroundings I took to more domestic ventures. After hanging with friends for the past few weeks in Warsaw and Ostrava, it was nice to get some alone-time and take care of some much needed bidness. I was able to get some laundry done at a local laundromat (totally guessing at the German wash settings), go grocery shopping and revive my declining fitness level. I spent several days following in the footsteps of the former Austrian Governor of California and working out at John Harris Fitness.

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One of the nicest gyms I’ve ever had the pleasure of getting my swell on in, but also the price for one day was what I pay for a month back home at Golds Gym. At least this place had an Olympic pool and self-service tanning beds (not that I indulged). Getting all Hans and Franz was a nice to counteract the litany of meats, cheeses and cakes I was consuming on the daily.
By the end of my week, Vienna went from simply a waypoint on my journey south to Croatia to being one of my favorite cities so far. I really enjoyed the culture, language, food and (grudgingly) the climate. If it wasn’t so darn expensive I would love to spend more time there.

Ostrava: Slavic faces, Beautiful places

In my travels I’ve been lucky enough to make new friends and connect with old friends along the way. I tried my best to set up a network of couch surfing in order to release some tension on my bank account and (selfishly) give me built in tour guides to various foreign cities. It’s a highly recommended strategy for any of you would-be vagabonds. Ostrava is one such location and Chris is one such friend. Chris and I worked together at our former Amazon subsidiary, but have both since moved on to greener pastures. Chris’s pasture is currently Ostrava, where he works as a consultant and lives a life of central European luxury in an interesting Czech town that most would not consider to be on the top ten sightseeing tours. Ostrava is within 2 hours of the Polish border and is Czech Republics 3rd largest city.

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A key contributor to energy production, you can see the remnants of the old communist coal mining town that once was. In present day the city has closed its black coal mines and now focuses on more modern methods of energy production and metallurgy, giving it the nickname of “the steel heart of the republic”.My time on Chris’s couch (usually sharing it with his Puggle, Lolly) was well spent as I got to explore a city outside the typical tourist circuit and indulge in more authentic Czech cuisine, scenery and nightlife.

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The highlights of my Ostrava stint include visiting Stramberk castle, a wakeboarding park and several nights spent on the raucous Stoldoni street. Since Chris was given a company car (a sweet Audi)

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he was kind enough to take me to see some sighs outside the city. As I was getting adjusted to the feeling of simply riding in a car again, we were speeding down the unpatrolled Czech highways at over 100mph. One of our first stops was a small lake, which contained a tow-rope wakeboarding park.

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As I normally spend my summers wakeboarding in SC, I eagerly jumped at the chance to try my hand here. Fun ensued, which calls for a video:

Chris also took me to nearby Stramberk, a small town in the Moravian-Silesian region. It lies on the slope of a forested lime hill, dominated by the Trúba castle tower. Because of the town’s location, its many historical buildings and a unique collection of timbered houses from the 18th and 19th centuries, the town has nicknamed the Moravian Betlehem. Nearby there is the Sipka Cave where Neanderthal child bone remnants were discovered.

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The Czech castles I visited were decidedly different than those of picturesque fame, these castles seemed more rustic and functional. Old and medieval, most lacked the flair of their western European counterparts but made up for it in history and authentic style. Just below the castle tower in Stramberk, I was able to enjoy some delicious Czech potato pancakes with strong sheeps cheese and a skewer of bacon wrapped chicken. Washed down with the darker variety of Czech pilsner, the delightfully roasty but clean finishing Kozel.

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To cap it all off, just outside of Stramberk Chris and I got to visit the teadional Czech home of his ladyfriends mother in Koprivnice. There we were showed incredible hospitality and given a variety of snacks, including fresh fruit and one of the best (and largest) pineapple (ananas) cakes I’ve ever tasted.

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One of the more enigmatic attractions I Ostrava is the infamous, Stoldoni street. Every Friday night, young and old flock to this one street lined with bars and clubs. Czech youth will travel from hours away by train, bus and car just to see and be seen on Stoldoni.

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Around 2am the street becomes completely packed, a mass or drunken humanity, I’ve seldom seen anything like it. Perhaps the closest comparison would be Halloween night on Franklin St in Chapel Hill, but the mayhem on Stoldoni occurs EVERY Friday night. Everyone is throwing back cocktails and the popular local pilsner, Ostravar, followed up by dancing, rabblerousing, tail-chasing and most likely a Doner Kebap for fourth-meal. The bars don’t close until sunrise as the out of towers stumble back onto trains and trams to head back home, wether its 5 minutes or 5 hours away. Even though English speakers are seldom found, you can still notice their love for western style and culture. I experienced this love in the form of many free drinks, which apparently led Chris and I to become victims of a date-rape drug one cloudy night. No need for concern, we don’t think anything happened to us as we both woke up in Chris’s hotel with our clothing and belongings in tact. The situation simply led to a, “The Hangover”, type aftermath where we spent the entire next day trying to figure out who, what, when, where, why and how we ended up in that condition. Earlier that night, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves at a concert on Stoldoni, here is a quick clip from the Czech bands set, showing their western love with a rendition of Stevie Wonder’s, Superstitious (coincidentally the lead singer is indeed blind):

Krakow

Whilst thoroughly enjoying myself in Prague, I got an invitation from my buddy Jon to visit him in Krakow, Poland. Jon informed me that he would be heading back to the USA in less than 4 days so since I wasn’t doing anything THAT important, I simply told him to expect me in Krakow that evening. The journey to Krakow started at Praha Hlavni Nadrazi (or just Prague Hln. train station), aboard a sleek EuroCity train. The EuroCity train was in stark contrast to the trains I’ve been riding in Asia. Smooth, fast (200mph) and comfortable, it was certainly the nicest train I’ve ever been on and upped the ante on my concept of public transportation worldwide. All the trains were impeccably clean, on-time and stops were announced clearly in a variety of languages. It was quite the luxurious 6 hour ride, the only hiccup happened when I crossed the border into Poland and stopped in Katowice for a train transfer. Katowice train station ranks very low in my list of transport depots, even compared to third world Asian countries. It’s confusing, dirty and full of unpleasant people. The attendants were rude and uncaring and it was glaringly apparent they hated their jobs more than the guy who cleans the portable toilets. Due to their inability to assist me, I relied on Polish arrival/departure lists (essentially my own intuition) to determine my next train platform. Needless to say, there was some confusion, but I’ll be elaborating on that in my next post.
When I finally arrived in Krakow, it was 2.5 hours later than I had told Jon. Unfortunately I had no way of updating him to my situation, since getting WiFi on the train was not possible. Luckily, the train station, Dworzec Glowny Krakow, empties into the giant Galeria Krakowska shopping mall where there was poor but serviceable WiFi. I messaged Jon and waited outside in the cool (frankly, COLD) night air for his arrival.
Reunited at last and both relived that i had finally made it, Jon and I set out for a celebratory beer and some renowned Polish food. After having my first half liter of Zywiec and exploring some nightlight, it was too late to find a suitable hotel or hostel for me that night, therefore Jon and I decided it would be a good idea for me to sneak into his dorm residence for the evening. This involved scaling a 10 foot stone wall, capped with broken glass to deter would-be intruders like myself, then shimmying 20 yards on top of the wall in order to drop down 2 levels into the courtyard of Jon’s place. All the while dong this in stealth mode to avoid security cameras. Mission-possible. Aside from a scraped palm i made it in no worse for wear and felt like a total badass. It wasn’t until the next morning when I was walking out the front door, that the security guard stopped me and asked for payment for the night that I had just stayed. Busted, epic fail. Luckily it was only 10 zloty for the night, gotta love student dorms. In fact, it inspired me to extend my stay there in lieu of finding another hotel. In my quest to experience as many different living situations during my travels, I certainly got the student experience in Krakow. For a week, my accommodations were the dorms in the middle of the city, just outside of the Old Town Krakow. I was back at UNC, sharing spartan quarters with a roommate and rubbing elbows with other students in the hallway and elevator.
Aside from the cool residence and getting to hang with my good fried Jon once again, there were 2 standout highlights in Krakow: the food and the EuroCup. The food speaks for itself, I believe Pierogies and sausage are world famous, but I sort of stumbled into the Euro Cup situation. Like any good soccer fan, I had been watching the games and following the action of the tournament, since I was in Asia, but chance would have it that I would end up in two of the host cities during the time of the games. Actually going to a game would have been incredible, but tickets were near impossible to come by so I was happy to settle for watching the games with the locals and fans in the authentic atmosphere. On game night, Krakow sported banners and tents galore, so we grabbed a seat on one of the beer hall benches in the main tent for this weeks round of games, most notably, the quarterfinal PK shootout game between Italy and England. There were tons of fans from each team inside the tent and only a spattering of local Poles and neutrals like me. The game was a tense match and despite the free flowing Zywiec, the atmosphere was amicable even in the end. Here is a quick video of Rooney’s PK make, just before the deciding miss by Ashley Young.


As for the food: after the hearty dishes of Prague, I wasn’t sure how much more my stomach could take, that is untill that first steamy plate of Pierogies was set in front of me. Jon had found the perfect spot: simple Pierogies, boiled, not fried, served by the dozen, for less than $5. Any number of delicious fillings were possible, shredded meat, broccoli, cabbage, potato, cheese, fruit or any combination. I enjoyed the traditional “ruskie” style of cabbage, potato and cheese more often than not.

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Polish cusine also relies heavily on soups. Soup is supposed to be eaten with every meal and the Poles traditionally believe that soup is the cure-all for health. Got a cold? There’s a soup for that. Got digestive problems? There’s a soup for that. Got performance issues? There’s probably a soup for that too. I had many differnt soups while visiting, but my favorite was traditional Zurek soup, a sour broth with boiled egg and sausage.

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There was also, beet soup, mushroom soup and their own version of chicken noodle soup. To my excitement and the dismay of my emerging belly, pancakes are also a staple of the Polish diet. Potato pancakes (Palcki) with onion and mushroom gravy as well as thin nalesniki pancakes stuffed with sweet or savory fillings.

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Probably the coup de grace of my culinary adventure in Poland was when Jon took me to a Polish buffet. You simply load your large plate up with all manner of delicious looking cabbage, dumplings, sausages and potatoes and they weigh it at then end. A feast of epic proportions for dirt cheap.

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Of course there were some sights to see around Krakow after my bloated stomach stopped swelling. Jon took me on a thorough tour of the historic Krakow Old Town and the Wawel Castle hill.

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The fortified entrance to the Old Town area. Old Town is surrounded by a large castle wall and encircled by a thin strip of green city park. Once you enter the gates you are confronted by tourists and typical tourist shops, but there are many hidden gems in between the cheap souvenir peddlers.

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St. Mary’s church, a beautiful gothic structure in the middle of the Old Town Market Square.

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Locals playing in the public water fountain in the Market Square on a warm day.

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Walking up the hill to the Wawel Castle, the seat of ancient Polish kings and legend has it, the home to a dragon, slain by mythical King Krak. The Wawel was impressive, hosting a variety of domed churches and the remains of the original structure. Of course, there are numerous statues to honor the JP, the most recent Polish Pope. Poland is staunchly Catholic.

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Krakow at night. The actual market building of the Market Square and a statue commemorating Polish victory outside of the city center.
My final days and nights in Poland were capped off with a rainy day trip to the mountains of Zakopane, a ski destination during the winter months and during the summer it is supposedly a great place for hiking, biking and hangliding. The weather kept us from actually doing any of these great activities, but we still managed to take the funicular up the mountain and the clouds gave way for a few good pictures. In a strange but familiar way, the vibe of Zakopane kind of reminded me of Maggie Valley, NC, or even Gatlinburg, TN. Lost of local hillbilly flair evidenced by the foods and crafts being peddled by locals.

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Lastly there was an interesting night spent in the dorm trying to open a bottle of wine without a corkscrew.

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It can be done people. Jon was relentless in his efforts and aided by YouTube we tried the shoe method as well as the pounding method, but ended up getting the cork out only halfway before deciding that we better not wake up the whole dorm with loud thumping sounds. So we resorted to the, “gouging with knife”, method. Our persistence was rewarded as we filled makeshift wine glasses and toasted to our time in Poland.

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Czeching into Prague

Still hazy from my late night and early morning in Kiev, my plane touched down in Prague around 8:00am local time. The weather was stupendous and the airport much cleaner and more organized than in Kiev, there was even free WiFi for crying out loud. Taking much less time to compose myself and acclimate to my situation than my experience the previous day, I took a seat and allowed Google to educate me on the best way into the city. I quickly realized that it is incredibly easy to get around in this town. The buses, trams, subway and train all operate on the same universal ticket which you simply purchase for the amount of time you need (15 minutes-1 week). The electric buses ran right up to the baggage claim so I stepped out the double-doors and hopped on the #100 bus. I purchased a 15 min ticket to take me to the subway station at the end of the line, Zlicin (the airport is still quite a ways out of town). Upon arrival to the Zlicin subway station, it appeared that you could simply walk down and hop on the train, no gates, ticket stalls or security attendants. However, me being a good world citizen, I still proceeded to go to the nearest ticket kiosk and purchased a 30 minute pass so that I could get into downtown with time for mistakes. I would later find out that all Czech public transportation runs on the Honor System, a trusting bunch these Czechs are, which surprises me based on their history of being taken advantage of politically. Once on the train I popped in the earbuds and jammed out to my latest playlist until my train stop showed in glowing LED letters above the door. Out and up I went to surface in New Town, Prague.
It only took me a short walk to find my hotel, I was staying on the south end of New Town, in the Vysehrad area. Since I had just capped off 15 hours of travel, punctuated only by a short night in a Kiev hostel, I decided to spoil myself for some R&R at The King Charles Boutique Hotel (still only $40 a night).

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Once I was, “Czech-ed”, into my hotel my next goal was to find sustenance. Upon a brief investigation of the establishments in my surrounding area, I thankfully found that Prague had all the things I had been missing in Asia: hearty meat dishes, good beer and gravy, ohhhh lord the delicious gravy. Czechs eat their largest meal at lunch and lucky for me it was about 1pm. I had a heaping plate of dumplings filled with chopped pork, smothered in onions and sauerkraut, along with half a liter of Budvar (the original Budweiser). It goes without saying that I ate myself sick. I like to think it was a situation similar to when someone is lost in the wilderness, facing starvation for a time, and you have to ease them back into normal eating habits or they eat themselves to death. Yeah…that’s it, except my wilderness was filled with rice and mangled bits of chicken. So I guess the 160 pound frame and svelt six pack I sculpted over the past 2 months is now going to waste, but I couldn’t care less this was comfort food to the max. Besides ruining my physique, the change of cuisine did wreak havoc on my GI system as well. I usually consider my tummy to be as durable as a leather saddle bag, but the instant transition from Asian food to heavy central European was a little intense even for me. I still enjoyed every kraut drenched dumpling I shoved down my gullet despite the frequent post-meal WC sessions.

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After eating and recovering from the subsequent food coma, I decided it was time for a sightseeing walkabout. Walking only 100 feet down the road and tripping at least a half a dozen times I came to the following realization: Prague is a rollerbladers nightmare. To all you ladies out there, if considering a trip to Prague, don’t even think about packing heels, instead you should consider ankle braces. Almost every street is cobblestone; from large protruding blocks to carefully lain tiles, you are in constant danger of rolling an ankle. The good news is that it keeps those rascally skateboarders off the streets. My second home of Charleston SC is known around the southeast for its “romantic” cobblestone streets, but the roughly 100 meters of cobblestone in Chuck pales in comparison to the miles and miles of toe snagging goodness in Prague. Its also worth noting that in Prague you can get fined for jaywalking and cars appear to have no concern for pedestrians, so mind the tick-ticking of the crosswalks. So while Prague is a very walkable city, please walk at your own risk. As I continued, much more conscious of my footing, I was reminded that i’m a great big nerd about some things and Prague certainly brings out two of those: architecture and beer (blame college for both). As you walk around the city there are towers, statues, spires and friezes everywhere. You obsessively want to take pictures of everything (much like Angkor in Cambodia), but you know that will only lead to a laboring photo upload session later as well as killing your memory card. So I tried my best to hold that itchy trigger finger and try to let my brain just soak in the visual magnificence. A stunning mixture of Gothic, Baroque, Renaissance and Art Nouveau surprises you on every corner. There is even a spattering of the short-lived, “Cubist”, architecture inspired by Pablo Picasso.

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Prague is truly blessed to have largely avoided the destruction of the World Wars, everything is so well preserved. Having visited several other European cities, I can honestly say I have never seen a more amazing and unpredictable mixture of architecture that melds together so beautifully. I was in constant danger of breaking my nose on lampposts as I walked around the city with my eyes drawn upward. Its no wonder why Prague is the 6th most visited European city, my only question is why isn’t it the first? Below are a few of the highlights of my first day walkabout:

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Just behind my hotel was the Vysehrad castle, supposedly the location of the first settlement that later became Prague. Built in the 10th century, many of the original fortress walls still stand. The view above is from one such battlement. Situated within the castle walls is the Basilica of St. Peter and St. Paul, a great example of neo-Gothic.

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The, “Dancing House”, one of the more extreme examples of modern architecture (Deconstructivist to be exact) in Prague. This building was built on top of one of the few sites that was destroyed in WWII bombing. A collaboration between, Canadian-American and Croatian-Czech architects, the building is supposed to resemble a pair of dancers (Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers).

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The National Theatre, amazing neo-classical, with larger than life statues surrounding the golden roof.

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A view across the Vltava river of the famous Charles Bridge, Petrin hill and Prague Hrad (castle).

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Shots from Charles Bridge. The bridge is lined with statues and various street vendors catering to the tourists, everything from musical performers to caricatures. At each end of the bridge is a dominating gate tower.

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After crossing the Charles bridge on your way to Prague Castle, you must first climb the hill. As steep and exhausting it may be, the panoramic views of the city are worth the ascent. From the walls of the castle you see rooftop after rooftop of Baroque red tile roofs.

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From the castle vantage point (and with a long range zoom) you can capture almost every major landmark in Prague, including the infamous Zizkov television tower. Built by the Russian commies during the Cold War era, it was originally considered an eye-sore and a bad memory of the communist occupation, however it appears to have grown on the locals and it serves as a great tourist attraction for more panoramic views of the city. It now sports several statues of crawling babies which you can barely see in the photo.

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Once inside the castle, after entering through the overly violent front gate, you are confronted by the towering gothic, St. Vitus Cathedral, the most important church in all of Czech Republic. This church houses the remains of Bohemian Kings and Holy Roman Emperors.

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Back across the river and into the heart of Old Town, there is the famous Astronomical clock. Installed in 1410, it is the third oldest astronomical clock in the world and the oldest one that is still working.

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This is the statue to commemorate famed Prague resident Franz Kafka. In the square surrounding the astronomical clock there is a cafe where Kafka and Einstein used to have coffee together. Kafka once famously quoted, “Prague never let’s you go…this dear little mother has sharp claws”. I can relate, ever since I’ve visited I want to go back.

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Wenceslaus Square, the hub of shopping and party going tourists in Old Town Prague. Later in my visit to Prague I stayed in a nice Hostel overlooking the square.

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Various artistic statues, with penises included. Some artists prefer to leave the male anatomy off or cover it with a fig leaf, it is apparent that the Czechs feel no such shame about the twig and berries. The statue of the boy was placed in front of a children’s museum and included a shining golden rod.

As for the Beer, or as the Czechs call it, Pivo, it is not served by the pint but by the liter. Half liter of the freshest pilsner being most common. On average, I was consuming 2-3 liters of beer a day (its recommended that you consume 1.9 liters of water a day), not because I wanted to be drunk, but because this beer was so incredibly fresh and refreshing and cheap that it was far superior to the conventional water. Being a homebrewer myself (and trying to reason my consumption), I can tell you that beer is mostly water anyway.

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There is no sour or bitter taste, not even a lingering hint of alcoholic tang on your palette, unlike so many so called pilsner beers in the states. You can literally chug this stuff like mineral water, which I did, on the reg, anytime I was parched from walking around the city or needing to wash down some savory meat and dumplings. Which reminds me, it’s time for dinner! Aside from swilling their world famous Pilsner, every traveler to Czech Republic must also have the goulash. Obviously this was my go-to option for my very first dinner in Prague. Goulash differs in most European countries, the Czechs prefer theirs with slow cooked beef covered in a brown gravy with sliced raw onion and accompanied by a heavy dose of dumplings. The beef is tender, the gravy is savory and the dumplings are like a doughy half-cooked sliced bread.

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After dinner my eyelids were heavy and my feet were sore, so made my way back to the King Charles Hotel for some much needed rest. Since Prague sits roughly on the same latitude as northern Canada, the sun refused to set until close to 10pm (and it rises around 4am), but my travel weary body was ready to hit the cushy comforts of a European bed before the sky had even darkened. As my head hit the pillow and drifted into semiconsciousness I dreamily recounted my first day in central Europe: a favorable currency, a clean city, great weather, scrumptious food, and stunning sights. I believe I fell asleep with an insatiable urge to shave the sides of my head, buy some loose fitting Capri pants and put on an extra extra small t-shirt in the attempt to make myself a local.

Layover in Kiev

So my journey westward to Central Europe finally begins, but not before a brief, 19 hour layover, in Kiev. I suppose thats what I get for booking the cheapest available flight with a Ukrainian airline I’ve never heard of (Aerosvit). Turns out that the layover became quite the travel experience in itself, below is an account that will hopefully help one of you out one day, should you find yourself in a similar situation.

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Unsteadily stepping out onto the sun drenched tarmac of Kiev airport after 11 hours of flying, I was greeted by a welcoming cool breeze and delightful lack of humidity. In direct sunlight it was still hot as balls, but Bangkok it was not. The flight crew herded the other passengers and I into the terminal and within two minutes of wandering around looking for a way out I realized: I am totally unprepared for this country. Cryillic words everywhere, not a single sign in English and no hope for a WiFi connection. Culture shock much? I stumbled around the airport aimlessly for at least 30 minutes hoping for inspiration to hit me. I managed to find an ATM and withdraw a couple hundred Ukrainian Hryvnia (8:1 USD), then I found myself walking outside toward the parking lot. I instinctively spurn the pushy cab drivers and recall I had read somewhere that the bus is the best way into town. Scanning the area, I spot some buses and head in their general direction. Once I reach the buses I realize that none of them have readable destination signs in English and there are no translators around to tell me where they are going. After sitting on a bench and gathering my thoughts for a few long minutes, I get up the courage to simply step inside one of these motor-coaches and see where it takes me. Even though I have no idea where the bus is going, my instincts tell me that it will ultimately lead me into town and if not, heck, I’ve got to waste 19 hours somehow.
25 Hryvnia and a 50 minute sweltering bus ride later, I find myself dropped off at the main train station (to my relief, in the middle of the city). “Sorted”, I briefly celebrated, I’m pretty good with trains. Come to find out, not so much in the Ukraine. The train maps were unintelligible and the, “help”, doesn’t speak English. Another dead end. I plop down in the only oasis I can find, a McDonalds, and I am relieved to find that free WiFi is available, my savior has come at last! After putting Google Maps to the test, I realize that I am not too far from the city center, a walkable distance by my estimation. I load up my 60lbs pack once again and start my trek towards what I hope will be a cold shower and a soft bed.

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Huffing it through the city with a heavy pack turned out to be a sweaty endeavor. Even though Kiev was much less humid than Thailand it was much more hilly and the mid-afternoon sun just has steamy. With every inch of my clothing sticking to me and my shoulders aching from the elephant on my back I finally arrive to a very busy main drag, Kreshchatyk St.. The street is flooded with people, beer stalls and police, “but it’s 2pm, don’t these people have jobs to do?”, I thought. It was then I realized that today was the day of the first Euro 2012 game in Kiev, featuring Ukraine against the mighty three lions (England), it’s gonna get wild.

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At that moment, I was too overwhelmed by exhaustion that all I want to do is find my Hostel, so I soldier on past the shady tents offering cold Carlsberg. It takes me a while, but I find my Hostel on the 5th floor of an unmarked, nondescript building, thank god for the pin dropping feature on google maps. Finally I get to shower and rest my weary bones. Once I got settled in and was laying down for a snuggle session with my iPad, what appears to be a new hostel resident walks in the door. He sets up shop in the bunk across from me, but he has no luggage and has a more than friendly relationship with the girl at the hostel desk. Being my typical introverted self I do my best to ignore him, but after 5 minutes of avoiding eye contact he takes the initiative and swoops in with his introduction. Roustam, from Kiev, firm handshake. Upon hearing the first words out of my mouth he immediately knows I am an American and proceeds to profess his love for Willie Nelson, Roy Orbison and Dolly Parton music. I cant say much but agree that I do indeed know who those people are and I ask him the fruitless question of if he’d ever heard of Dollywood. Apparently me being American was simply all he needed to launch into a 30 minute one-way conversation. Even though his English was terrible and consisted mainly of hand gestures, I gathered that he was a local and frequently stays at this hostel to get away from his family who live right down the road. All I really want to do is take a nap, but Roustam is determined not to let that happen, my southern politeness gets the best of me and I entertain his conversation until I am past being tired and move into stomach churning hunger. I finally interrupt my Ukrainian acquaintance to let him know that I plan to go get some food and he immediately volunteers to show me the best spot for authentic local cuisine. Even though his interest in talking to me is starting to creep me out, I consent, I don’t want to be rude to a local after all. Roustam proceeds to show me to a cafeteria-like eatery around the corner that caters to the eastern European palette. Since all the food labels are in cyrillic, I simply point to the stuff that looks good and the attendants load my tray up with a cucumber and radish salad with dill, Borsch, fresh bread, a purple fruit juice and a Russian ratatouille topped with a giant chicken thigh.

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After filling my belly to the brim (it was all delicious, especially the Borsch), Roustam is back with the suggestion that he show me a few sights around town. His generousity as a tour guide is starting to give off the hint of a scam, but I swallow my suspicions and let him carry on his merry way. He takes me to a local market just off the main street where dried fish and fresh meats are on display, along with a multitude of colorful fruits stacked higher than my head.

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When I am finished browsing we head further down the street towards the mass of humanity that is preparing for the Euro Cup game in the cordoned off party zone. Tons of fans from Urkaine and England as well as Sweden and France (also playing that night) are in the streets guzzling beer and singing fight songs. Now I consider myself one of the more fervent sports fans when it comes to my North Carolina Tarheels basketball, but these, “Football”, fans put me to shame. Their face paint, chanting and drinking make for some of the best people watching I’ve ever experienced. As I walked down the street I even encountered a local dressed in traditional Cossack garb.

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I was also able to gather a bit more information on just who this Roustam character actually was; apparently his father is a Judge in the downtown courts and his mother a doctor. He is from Kiev but claims strong Russian roots and shows a deep appreciation for the military. Things are starting to come together a bit, but I’m still on my guard since I refuse to easily trust a populace so invested in Capri pants. I begin to notice that Roustam seems to know a lot of people around town. We are frequently stopping to chat with everyone, old and young, from security guards to local partygoers. At one point a cabbie pulls over and begins to talk to him, after they converse for a bit, Roustam tells me he has offered to take us somewhere. Now this is getting sketchy, but my conversation and observation of my happenstance tour guide has instilled a wee bit of trust that was not there upon my first impression. I climb into the cab, albeit reluctantly. A few minutes later we arrive at the riverfront of the Dnieper and climb out of the cab. Roustam urges me toward the boat docks where he says he has a plan. Lined up along the river are several large ferryboats which are being boarded by locals and tourists alike.

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Roustam pays for my entry and at the same time picks up a bottle of authentic Ukrainan cognac. I soon come to realize why, as this vessel is in fact a party barge. The dico lights turn and the captain shoves off down the river on a combination sightseeing/dancing cruise.

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As Roustam and I attack the cognac, I start to get his full story and begin to understand the psychology behind his random acts of kindness. Roustam is the only child of a very prominent (and wealthy) Kiev family. His parents are overbearing (evidenced by several nagging phone calls he received during our voyage) and pressure him to also become a doctor or a lawyer. As a rebellious twenty-something often does, he has resisted that pressure and instead prefers a noncommittal life living with his parents and off their wealth in the city. When the weight of their expectations becomes to much for him he withdraws by escaping to the Hostel where he works part-time and has discovered that he can meet new and interesting people who don’t know him and don’t judge him for who his parents are. It guiltily dawns on my that I am just another enabler to his behavior, fostering his avoidance and keeping him in the cycle of hiding from his responsibilities. Ok, so maybe I wasn’t that guilty, I was getting treated to a all expense paid night out in Kiev, just because I am an American. Living as a vagabond, now in the more pricey territory of Europe, I am going to take what I can get. I simply relaxed and sat back to watch the sun set and the sights pass by on the river.

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As the boat/night carried on, we joined the dance party with the other boat guests and Roustam put in request after request to the DJ for more Russian music. My western dance moves didn’t seem to mesh with the strange Russian music, but no one seemed to notice. Soon the boat came to a halt and we disembarked. Roustam’s cabbie friend met us at the street corner and took us back to the center of town to watch the end of the Euro match. The game atmosphere was exciting, but deflating as the Ukrainian team lost and were summarily eliminated from Euro 2012. I was surprised that the majority of fans remained in good spirits, even in defeat. Instead of rioting and looting (as the number of armed police in the area would suggest) they left the streets still chanting for their squad with only a minor contingent chanting slights agains the referees. At that point in the evening I glanced at my watch and realized it was past midnight. My pumpkin flew out of Kiev airport promptly at 6:40am so I thanked Roustam for his generousity and said my goodbyes. Roustam only made me promise that I would show him the same hospitality should he turn up in the United States. Fortunately for me and my bank account, he forgot to get my contact information ;)

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Viva Ukraine!

Wat Next

Ok, so i have fallen behind with my posts, bur i swear its not because im a lazy ass, let me explain! First of all, since arriving in Europe I have been jumping around from place to place a bit more than I usually plan for (it goes against my travel philosophy) making it hard to find time to write, second the WordPress App on my iPad keeps shitting the bed and refuses to work, consequently deleting all my drafts. The good news is that there is decent WiFi in Europe (excluding Poland) and I’m committed to getting back on the blogging bandwagon so I can catch you all up to my current adventures. So let me wrap up my Asian experience with some final thoughts and pictures of the many Wats I visited during my tenure.
Wats are Buddhist temples, and I toured more than my fair share while in Thailand. Each Wat is distinct in its architecture, location, history and purpose, but like touring cathedrals and getting “churched-out” in Europe, much the same happens when my ADD kicks in after the 5th Wat in each city. The good thing is that the colorful uniqueness of all the Wats in Thailand make for some great pictures, even if I only spent 15 minutes in the place before getting “templed-out”. Below are a few pictures from a couple of my favorites.

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First we have the Wat Phra Kaew, know to us westerners as: The Temple of the Emerald Buddha. This temple is inside the Grand Palace in Bangkok, the complex that is the traditional home for the Kings of Siam (Thailand). The Wat takes up about a quarter of the Grand Palace grounds and is one of the most popular tourist attractions and religious sites in Thailand.

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Upon entering, one is first confronted by several menacing Temple Guardians, as is common in almost every Wat. These guys were about 10 feet tall.

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In addition to the building that houses the Emerald Buddha, there are 3 other Pagodas inside the Wat. This one is a golden pagoda built in the Indian style that supposedly houses some of the remains of the last Buddha.

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There are many small statues inside the temple complex, many of which are simply decorative temple guardians of different varieties. There are also small Zen-like gardens squeezed in everywhere.

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The entire inside of the wall that encircles the Wat is decorated with a continuous colorful mural depicting the mythological history of the Thai National Epic.

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There is even a full miniature scale model of Angkor Wat carved from stone.

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The main temple of the Emerald Buddha. Done in the colorful Rattanakosin architectural style.

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The main man himself, the Emerald Buddha. Actually made from jade, not emerald, this is the most sacred Buddha statue in the world. It can only be touched by the King himself and the King must do so 3 times a year to change the Buddha into its seasonal robes, like an American Girl doll. Legend has it that the Emerald Buddha is originally from India, but was transported to the northern forest monastery in Chiang Rai, where it was struck by lightning and hidden in a tree for years before its rediscovery.

In Chiang Mai I visited the mountaintop temple of Doi Suthep. To reach this temple you must drive up a steep winding mountain road, which I chose to navigate on a motorbike. Several times I found myself face to face with my own mortality when rounding a blind curve or forgetting that I am supposed to drive in the left lane (yes that happened frequently, doh!). On my way to the top I encountered some ancillary temples and many beautiful vistas of Chiang Mai.

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Mysterious white temple with all white giant Buddha image I happened upon halfway up the mountain.

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View of Chang Mai from the mountainside. Still not to the top of the mountain yet.

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Once at the top of the Mountain I encountered a small village, now mainly made up of touristy vendor shacks selling the typical street food and home crafts you see most everywhere in Thailand. Once you look past the villagers you start to see giant Buddhist relics emerge from the misty mountain, such as this giant gong and huge statue of a prominent Monk.

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You must stop driving at this point, but you have not yet reached the mountaintop temple. Now you must climb the legendary stairway to heaven. These were some intense stairs, each guardrail is the back of a 4 headed dragon.

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After the sweaty clim, you reach the top. Luckily, due to the elevation, it is about 10 degrees cooler up at the top of the mountain. Typically the top is enshrouded in cloudy mists, but I was fortunate enough to be there on a clear day.

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Once inside the temple there are many interesting nooks to explore. Flowering trees, Buddhist bells (used to ward off evil spirits) and even a huge sacred Jackfruit tree.

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Like many historic temples in southeast Asia, there are signs both Buddhist and Hindu worshippers. Doi Suthep is now Buddhist, but over the years there were times when it was a Hindu temple, depending on who was in power in the government.
The many temples of southeast Asia were a joy to explore, it’s hard to imagine a place of worship so different than the one I grew up knowing. Wats are very much a part daily life, most Thai schools are attached to Wats and the majority of young men spend time ordaining as a monk, even the King himself. Now that I’ve moved on to land of ornate and gothic catholic cathedrals, it’s interesting to compare my experiences and impressions.
Well that about does it for Asia. I’ve got many more stories and pictures I wish I could share, but time marches on and now that I’ve been in Europe for 2 weeks I think you all deserve to know what I’m seeing/experiencing over here. So Kop Khrun Khap Thailand!

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