tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80558309998592047442024-02-19T09:10:57.381-08:00explore. dream. discover.twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-83532176340008971732012-12-13T03:35:00.000-08:002012-12-13T03:35:01.149-08:00Barcelona in a day. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-67690018951739762332012-12-06T06:20:00.001-08:002012-12-06T06:20:06.047-08:00Farewell to Doggy Days. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The chaos of the holidays was ending, and the majority of our furry friends had left or were going to be gone by tomorrow as the owners came to claim these canines that didn't want to leave the fun of Doggy Days behind. Some we were happy to see go, and looking forward to the sleep that we might get back from the restless nights of constant late night barking projected out of the hotel into our bedrooms. As the packs decreased in size it was also time for me to depart from Doggy Days. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">There are many dogs that I will miss, but the owner's Romanian sisters are the two that I would take home for myself if I could. Despite their tough shell and distance to newbies at the beginning, we were actually quite good friends by the time I had to go. Instead of running away or barking when I came into a room they would either sit up and looked interested in where I was headed or even run over and jump up to greet me warmly. Earning their affection made me feel like an official member of the house. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">And Artuse, the biggest St. Bernanrd you will ever meet. He is larger than most small horses I've seen, and has a deep stomach rattling bark that makes most of the other dogs quiver, but in reality he is nothing but a softy. Well trained, he doesn't even need a leash when you walk him, because he sticks close to you, in fact he usually knows the path better than whoever is walking him. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Though I won't miss the constant scrubbing of the floor covered in dog urine, and being pulled down a hillside by an eager puppy while the others pull in three separate directions, or the dog chatter that sometimes never seems to stop, I will miss this dog oasis and the village of Arogno very much. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Saying farewell to my new friends, helpers and staff, I made some open plans to see them again with the hope of crossing paths in another country again some day. Marcela and I spent one final evening gossiping and dissecting the work day together after letting the dogs out for their final late night bathroom break, and as I went to sleep dreading the early alarm that was to ring in a few hours I thought about how comfortable I had become in that home and how I might hope to return to Doggy Days again some day. </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-37962887305553020252012-12-06T06:18:00.001-08:002012-12-06T06:18:01.765-08:00Luzern, Switzerland.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Beautiful Luzern is a small city in Switzerland south of Zurich, in the heart of the country. The most famous and recognizable monument of this town is the The Lion Monument. This massive Lion sculpture that measures six meters high and ten across was carved out of sand stone rock in the early 19th century. The Lion in the sculpture portrays a deep sadness as he has been speared and appears to be on his last breathe as he lays on top of scattered shields and weapons to create the imagery of a war zone. Above the wounded Lion is the engraving that reads "Helvetiorum fidei ac virtuti" meaning, "To the loyalty and the bravery of the Swiss. The Lion Monument was erected in memory of the Swiss mercenaries that were killed through out their service in the French Revolution. During the French Revolution, the service of a mercenary was a necessary trade for Switzerland, and as a result of this, over 40,000 Swiss were serving in foreign countries during that time. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Climbing up to the edge of the city, at the original border or the town are Musegg wall and towers of Luzern. Wandering along the lifted wall you can climb into the towers to catch a view of the entire city. On this particularly foggy day the view stopped at the city buildings, when on many days of the years you can see out far along the lake. In the center Zyttrum clock tower there is is a large bell that's bell chimes a full minute before all the others in the city, leading the rest in a full chorus on the hour. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Another well known spot in Luzern is the Chapel Bridge, a wooden walkway that crosses over the Reuss River that runs directly through the centre of town into the Luzern lake. With wooden arches that greet you on either end, the covered wooded walkway has open air look out windows lined with blooming flower boxes where you can observe the beautiful city buildings along the river. Looking up to the covering of the bridge, every few meters is a colorful painting illustrating Luzern's history from the 17th century. </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-15881361156344430332012-12-06T05:55:00.000-08:002012-12-06T05:55:46.234-08:00Family in Switzerland. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Waking early, I groggily stumbled around getting ready,putting my things together and left the dog hotel while the stars were still shining. Lot and I strolled down the driveway and then rolled his car down the lane, waiting to turn on the engine until we were out of ear shot from the sleeping dogs as to not cause an unnecessary early morning orchestra of barking. Saying "hasta manana" at the bus stop, my journey to Ecce Homo began. My dauntingly long train route allowed less than five minutes between each connecting train, and as each of the first two were just a few minutes behind schedule I ran to meet the third leg of my journey just as it pulled away from the station, leaving me stranded in a tiny cold train port for over an hour while waiting for the next train. On the journey of my final train, I starred out the foggy windows and it was clear that I had left the cities of Switzerland and was fully engulfed by the beautiful countryside. Full of gorgeous large houses with countless windows, and picture perfect streams of smoke trailing out of the silver chimneys on top, all clumped in tiny villages and surrounded by green meadows, this is the picture you create in your mind when you think of Switzerland. Departing this last train, I had one final step in transit, a city bus right outside the station where I was the only passenger. Three stops later I arrived at the Ecce Homo bus stop where I looked up to see directly in front of me my final destination, the home my great-grandmother had once lived in. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Exactly like the pictures I had seen, the beautiful old house is covered in dark wood on the outside, with bright green shutters that frame the white windows perfectly. Feeling bold and confident after such a complicated journey I walked up to the front door, and looked at the door bell with the name "Josef Lounde" and rang it, not entirely certain that anyone would be home. I heard shuffling around from inside and soon enough the door opened and a familiar face that I had not seen in many years looked back at me. I smiled at him and told him who I was, and without a questioning look or hesitation he simply said, "yes, come in" and led me up the stairs. As he turned into the kitchen I heard his wife, Lottie, speak quickly to him in German, what I assume was something along the lines of "who is it?" after he responded to her she came beaming around the corner to greet me with shock and surprise as she held her arms open for a big welcoming embrace. Realizing as I turned into the kitchen that I had interrupted their lunchtime, I felt terrible, but Lottie didn't even hesitate before quickly setting a place for me and served me up some of her delicious meal as we sat around the table catching up. It had been over ten years since I had seen these relatives, cousins of my grandfather, when they last visited us in the states. They had also gotten to know my parents during a trip that they had taken to Europe almost just as many years ago. My grandpa often sends family photos and updates about the happenings from the states and about what our family is doing each year, so Josef had many questions about updates on the family members. Though he would disagree with me, Josef's English is great, especially considering the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he had to use it to such an extent. While Lottie and I can not communicate directly, since I do not speak any German and her English is limited, we did manage to find other ways to communicate as she pulled out her photo albums from their visits to the states as well as from my parents trip to visit with them. They gave me a tour of the beautiful home they live in, that was once lived in by Josef's mother as well as my great-grandmother. The inside is very modern because as Josef put it, nothing is original but the walls. We discussed my travels as well as the trips they have been on and it became clear to me that all share a great ambition for travel, and they have even visited places that I would not yet be courageous enough to try. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">As the afternoon progressed I started to think about making my way back, not wanting to over stay my welcome, but they had other plans in mind. Down the road about thirty minutes from their home is a very small village called Illgau where my great-grandfather's family, the Burglers, are from. Josef and Lottie offered to take me there so I could visit the church and cemetery full of my ancestors. On this very foggy day we rode up the hill into the village and I toured around inside the cemetery with the two of them, amazed by how many Burglers there were in one place. Even driving along the road, the name of the construction company advertised their work on the roads was Burgler construction, the same name my grandfather's construction company had for so many years. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Getting back into the car, certain that this wonderful afternoon with my family was complete, Josef asked if I had a schedule for the day, and I told him I simply had to be in Luzern by late that night in order to check into the hostel. Satisfied with that answer he nodded and said our next destination was the town of Brunnen where we would visit the tourist centre so I could learn more about the area. Along the drive and inside the centre they pointed out many significant pieces of Switzerland's history to me, and we watched some informational videos and chatted with the staff there about all the things this region of Switzerland is known for. After the centre, we popped up to their daughter Bernie's house, who I had never had the chance to meet until now, and had her join us for an afternoon snack in the city before it was time for me to catch my train. Josef took me to the station and I expected to say our farewells at the car park or after I purchased my ticket, but instead he kindly walked with me all the way to the platform, and kept me company while I waited for the train to arrive. When the train pulled in I gave him a hug and thanked him endlessly for a wonderful day, and Josef stood along side the train as I boarded and waved good bye to me as I headed south to Luzern for the night. </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-39569144523372163862012-11-26T10:23:00.000-08:002012-11-26T10:23:12.227-08:00Snow arrives early in Arogno. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">The shock of the mid-October snow storm hit all of us, including the dogs that simply couldn't understand why they had to be cooped up inside the hotel for most of the day. The snow settled on the hills surrounding us, but melted away from the permitter of the house as quickly as it fell. Owners of the dogs were in distress as they picked up and dropped off their pets after driving up the steep winding driveway. The dogs were restless inside and too cold outside, but I on the other hand, was loving this glimpse of winter and wishing for more even as it continued to look like a blizzard outside. Bundled up in as many layers as I could scrounge up for taking the dogs outside, I frolicked around with them and was disappointed when they weren't enjoying the storm as much as me. Taking them back inside, I sat upstairs with the small dogs, watching the winter wonderland happening from the window. The snow fall only lasted one day, and the dogs were happy to be outside again the following morning, and we all sat on the highest point of the property to enjoy the view of the snow covered mountains in the distance. </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-12984650371949645822012-11-18T17:37:00.004-08:002012-11-18T17:37:41.011-08:00Arogno, Switzerland.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">On a quiet Sunday afternoon, well rested from a day off, I decided to trek down the hillside trails and wander into the small town of Arogno. The tiny village of less than a thousand residents sits high up in the hills, surrounded by tree-covered mountains full of trails to discover and creatures to meet along the way. Walking down the trail from the house into the village I found black, slimy, orange-spotted salamanders wiggling their way slowly across the path, and tiny lizards scampering under the rocks along the side as they heard me coming. The first fuzzy faced friends I made were two curious donkeys roaming through the field that came over to greet me as I passed by their property. Continuing down into town I found a pasture of cows, each with a large bell tied around their neck in case one strays from the group, which means you can hear the group clanking around from miles away. I also passed a group of sheep, llamas, and goats all along the way to the center of town. The most visited spot of Arogno is the beautiful church that sits up on one of the highest points. Climbing up there I passed through a well kept cemetery full of large colorful tombs and vibrant flowers growing along the edges before entering into the church. After spending some time looking down over the quite village and watching the sun disappear behind the hills along the border of the small town I wandered back up along the road to Doggy Days. </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-78763417523199769642012-11-18T17:31:00.001-08:002012-11-18T17:31:47.750-08:00Welcome to Doggy Days. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>"My roommate will pick you up. He is a tall shaved head Spanish man. He doesn't speak English, but I think you will be fine." </i></span><b></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">This was the final piece of information I was given before arriving in the city of Lugano to await a pick-up to then be taken to the final destination of Arogno, Switzerland. Lot, the Spanish roommate, met me in front of the train station that evening, and my new boss could not have been more accurate with her description. He was kind to me as we tried to make exchanges before quickly realizing that our ability to communicate stopped after the basic "how are you?" dialog, but we managed some how to learn a few things about each other as we pulled together some Spanglish phrases using gestures and pictures from his phone. The drive from the city up to the village of Arogno was entertaining to say the least, and after winding up the narrow roads we arrived at my new home on the top of the hill, the Doggy Days hotel. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Greeted at the house by Carla, the owner, and her gang of canine's I was welcomed quickly and shown to my room where I chose my bed by the window with the view of the village and the mountains surrounding. I was introduced to her two live-in employees, Alvaro and Marcela. Marcela, is from Argentina originally, but spent many years in Spain before coming to Switzerland, and lucky for me her English is very good. She speaks softly with an extreme kindness, as she is always checking in with me to see if I am comfortable and taken care of. She is often shooing me away from assisting her with household tasks as her work ethic won't allow her to sit still and let anyone help her. Alvaro is quiet at first and I learned later that is because his English is limited, but with his attempts to communicate with me I learn quickly that he is a bit sarcastic and has a dry sense of humor that assures me that we are going to have some fun together over the next few weeks. My first night was spent at the dinner table enjoying a delicious meal cooked by Marcela, and shared with her, Lot and Alvaro. As the chatter flew back and forth across the table in Spanish I sat there thinking to myself how much I wished I had payed more attention in my high school Spanish courses. Marcela translated the relevant information to me, but any conversation we had left Lot and Alvaro behind. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Carla welcomes new helpers by explaining some of the general rules and things to know about Doggy Days, and also about how to live in the house with the others, including the five dogs of her own. With each of the dogs being a rescue, "they all have issues" she put it bluntly. I was told to give the two street dogs rescued from Romania, Viola and Betty, a chance to warm up to me since they have been known to bite new helpers within the first couple days. They act like sisters even though they aren't, deciding as a unit if you are worthy of their affection. The tiniest of the crew, Bocio, jumps and barks and jumps and barks as he makes sure you know he is there and that he is obviously not a afraid of you (except when he is). Moca, another small dog, that is mostly blind and partially deaf, knows the in's and out's of the house better than even the people living in it and is clearly the leader of the pack since no one messes with her. And finally, the sweet mellow golden named Abby, that doesn't bother anyone until there is food being dished out, then she wants in. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">The day's work is long but enjoyable, spent with the dogs of all breeds and sizes, each having such an individual personality. The groups change daily as new dogs arrive and others return to their homes, and the dynamic can alter in one afternoon depending on who is present. The work hours are spent hanging out with the dogs by walking, feeding, playing, and cleaning up after them, and generally keeping them as happy as we can. I've been told that the first week will be calm and allow for me to become adjusted with the routine before the chaos of the school holidays begins and the hotel occupancy triples. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">My love for dogs has always been strong, but I underestimated how much I would enjoy having this many furry friends around at one time. They are constantly interested in you, and watching them all together is absolutely wonderful and of course extremely entertaining. The greatest part about these four legged friends is their unconditional love of you. After scolding them to be quiet, or breaking up a quarrel and having to yell sharply to be heard I am certain that they will hate me forever for being cross with them, but it is simply only a matter of minutes before they come trotting back to me looking for more love and affection, as if nothing ever happened. Crawling all over me, trying to gain the best piece of my lap and the most affection from me as possible, there are sometimes three or four small ones on me while the large dogs lean up next to me, looking back as if to say "well, why aren't you petting me yet?" and I wish for extra hands because how can you say no to those faces? Basically, this is a dog lovers dream place.</span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-39171413322554152972012-11-14T02:40:00.003-08:002012-11-14T02:40:50.058-08:00Bern, Switzerland. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">With the intention of getting some useful information from the US Embassy located in Bern, I took off on the train from Zurich one morning to see what the city had in store for me. After a more than unsuccessful visit to the Embassy and feeling very discouraged, I was welcomed warmly by the quaint little city of Bern. The buildings in the centre are all built with the same design, varying only in color, each one decorated with vibrant shingles and blooming flower boxes that frame the windows perfectly. As the streets wind through the center they are lined with fountains that are topped with statues of bears, which is the symbol of the city, and other significant figures, each completely radiant from head to toe. The clock towns that hover over the streets are vibrantly colored with large clock faces. In one square old men enjoy a game of life sizes chess or checkers while people passing by stop to watch or shout out strategic advise. The shops are busy with people hustling in and out with their purchases and jumping on the bright red tram that takes them through the city. At the end of the town is the famous bear park, where one large mama brown bear can be found romping around with her two cubs, and all are welcome to stop and watch the bears play and splash in the moat surrounding their personalized habitat. </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-26766213274757929322012-11-14T02:29:00.004-08:002012-11-14T02:29:59.389-08:00Zurich, Switzerland.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">After a long over night train from Prague, I was reunited at the train station in Zurich with my friend Marcel from Napoli, and we began planning an eventful afternoon right away. A local Zurich ice hockey match and a fondue dinner with his family were both on the agenda. Joined soon after by Edith, my couch surfing friend from Vienna, we all took off into the city of Zurich to see what could be seen on a quiet Sunday afternoon. With my tour guides on either side, both pointing out different aspects of the city and even teaching each other a few things along the way, we ended up down at the waterfront where the best views of the city can be found. On this foggy day, they both carried on about how disappointing the view was in comparison to a typical day, but I was impressed none the less. With plans to meet up later, Edith left us to be on our way to the ice hockey match. Sitting high up in the bleachers, we cheered right along with the die hard fans of Zurich. Full of excitement in our hearts, and the traditional Swiss sausages in our stomachs, we watched Zurich take a strong lead over the small town rivals from outside of Bern and soon they had clinched a victory and the stadium erupted in praise. As we joined the people streaming out of the stadium afterwards we discussed the game, laughing at each other as we tried to make sense of the many rules of ice hockey that we don't actually know anything about. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Collecting our supplies for a night of fondue festivities we headed off to Marcel's parents house where we were greeted by his father, brother, and friend that were excited for their first fondue night of the season. Joining them in the kitchen I asked how I could help, and his dad turned to me and said, "you can learn to make the fondue!" and quickly I was faced with pressure of not ruining the meal for everyone as they explained each step to me carefully, and I learned the importance of stirring the melting cheese in a figure "8" form as to prevent it from burning at the bottom. Seasons of all kinds were added to the fondue pan, while home made bread was sliced for dipping. When it was ready we gathered around the table to enjoy the results of the deliciously rich melted cheese, while I had the chance to get to know this gracious family that had welcomed me into their home. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">The nights in Zurich were spent with my new friends exploring their favorite pubs and restaurants, while getting to know them more and having a chance to see more parts of the city. On the day of my departure I caught up with Edith for breakfast at her favorite cafe where we chatted the morning away and made plans to hopefully see each other again soon. She soon had to be off to work, leaving me to discover the daily street market down by the water on a beautiful sunny morning and wander slowly back through the main streets of the city centre to the train station where I was off to my next destination. </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-37266091849403441202012-11-13T16:43:00.000-08:002012-11-13T16:43:08.421-08:00Kunta Hora, the bone church<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">On a final day in Czech Republic, I decided to take a train ride with my hostel mates to the small town of Kunta Hora, famous for its "bone church." Historically this church became famous as a result of the hundred years war, were thousands of lives were lost in masses. The gravesite surrounding the small church was quickly full and overwhelmed with the amount of human remains that still existed. The construction of the bone church was said to have begun with one single Monk who began carrying the bones of the deceased into the church one by one, stacking them in a pyramid form. This display of human causalities continued and today the church holds the remains of over 40,000 people. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Arriving at the church on the far end of town, we entered into the cemetery of the church before heading inside to see what exactly a "bone church" truly was. Stepping inside I was shocked instantly by the amount of human remains that were staring back at me within the first few feet of the church. Along the walls of the corridor leading into the center alter, there were dozens of skulls stacked one on top of another, lining the arches of the doorways. Other human bone parts had been arranged in an artistic manor to display letters, or symbols relating to the the beliefs within the church. Stepping down into the main room the first thing that draws your attention is the giant chandelier hanging in the center of the room, made entirely of human bones. The chandelier, both eerie and magnificent, consists of ever single bone in the human body for it's construction. Turning the the side chambers, there is a mountain of bones with more skulls lining the front rows all sides of the church. The skulls are turned slightly upwards, towards a large golden crown hanging about the pile of bones. This display is to represent the lives lost looking up to God for the salvation that will come to them in the afterlife. </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-8555283384887770572012-11-13T16:39:00.002-08:002012-11-13T16:39:39.096-08:00The magical city of Prague.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Everyone talks about Prague as the magical European city where the streets are full of unique architecture and lined in cobblestones, but until you actually set eyes on this city you can't understand how magnificent it truly is. The Czech people are welcoming, even with their dry sense of humor, and accommodating to foreigners roaming their streets, frequently getting lost in the large city that has so much to offer. Street corners are filled with hand made crafts, like wooded toys and puppets or with with tiny hole in the wall restaurants with traditional Czech cuisine that will warm you up as the temperature lingers around eight degrees. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Arriving in the evening, the city quickly accommodated my desires for something unique and exciting, beginning with the hostel atmosphere. Wandering into the basement with its brick walls and cozy feeling I was greeted by friendly faces and an invitation to join others heading out to the nearby bar. Prague being known for it's vibrant night life I couldn't refuse the offer. Stepping foot into the bar I was amazed by the layout and design of the rooms filled with artist metal scraps all bent into the walls and lining the stair cases leading you between the different levels, with neon lights cast onto the metallic sculptures high lighting the skills of the artist. I learned later that these pieces of unusual artwork were the remains of old city buses, even the seats for patrons had been taken from the old buses no longer in use. The night carried on with entertainment, supplied by good company and the beer that is cheaper than water. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">On my first day of exploration into the city, I first survived a desperately disappointing tour that seemed to take us further away from the city rather than into the heart of it, and through this experience bonded with a few other travelers that had similar feelings. So together we took off into the historical centre, on a particularly rainy day, to see what could be found. Our exploration began by passing through the Prague Castle, one of the largest in the world. Constructed over a thousand years ago it has seen many rulers in it's time. It's uniquely dark exterior, built in the Gothic style is one of the most attractive attributes, as well as the perfectly crafted stained glass windows towering high on the side panels of the entrance way. There are several well trained guards in uniform that surround the outside, rigidly guarding the entrance, flinching not even a little bit despite the efforts of the tourists. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Crossing over the famous Charles Bridge, one of Prague's most visited spots, we passed by the replicas of the 30 statues that were added to the bridge through out the 17th-19th centuries but later were removed due to the consistent weather damage. At the base of one of these statues there is a two sided plaque where history says that if you touch the picture of the woman on the right she will bring you good luck, but the dog on the left should not be touched because he will bring you nothing but bad fortune. At the end of the bridge is the Old Town Bridge Tower which signifies the the beginning of the historical district of Prague.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Beneath the Charles Bridge is John Lennon wall which displays a variety of work from street artists, locals, tourists, and anyone that wants to contribute to the art wall. During the Communists times, all Western songs were outlawed, so when an unidentified artist painted the face of the iconic John Legend on this wall after he was shot it was was small yet significant act of rebellion from the Czech people. Today the wall displays a variety of designs that are ever changing, but you can still always find John Lennon's words and portrait amongst the artwork. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">In the main square of the historical district we find the Astronomical Clock on the Old Town Hall building. This clock was constructed over 600 years ago and keeps track of not only the time but also the sun, moon and various pieces of astrology. The creative design and craftsmanship of the architect is famous through out all of Europe. It is said that the Czech ruler who hired him to construct the clock waited until it was complete and once he was satisfied with having the most elegant clock in all of Europe he then proceeded to gouged out the architect's eyes and chop off his tongue. This was done to insure that the artist would never work again, thus guaranteeing that he would remain the only ruler throughout Europe with such a unique design within his kingdom. At the top of every hour the street is packed with tourists all looking up for the famous show that the clock puts on as the chimes begin. Twelve apostles poke their heads out from the clock, a roster crows, a skeleton rings his bell, and a trumpet player serenades everyone from the highest point of the tower, all as the clock chimes away and entertains those passing by on the street below. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">A full Prague experience would not have been complete without a tour of the famous night life, so I joined in on the parade of guests leaving the hostel one night, joined by our enthusiastic guide for the evening who was guaranteeing a night a fun before we headed out the door. Sticking close to the familiar faces from the hostel while being joined by dozens of others excited to have a good time, we hopped around all evening trying new places, each with their own unique charm, and eventually finding our way to the final stop of Prague's most visited night club. A five story building with a different theme and music on every floor, we climbed our way up and down and through the crowds of guests enjoying every minute of it until returning back to the hostel at the early hours of the morning. </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-69618060739191205722012-11-03T12:54:00.000-07:002012-11-03T12:54:27.201-07:00Vienna, Austria <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Entering back into the EU over the Hungarian border on the train is an experience I won't forget quickly. On an unusually empty train, with only three other travels sharing the train cart with me, the announcements from the conductor were made in several languages not including English and my knowledge of which route we would be taking to get to Vienna was limited, so I was already feeling a bit out of my comfort zone. The train stopped a couple hours into the journey in a very strange setting. There was no physical train station to be seen, we had simply come to a halt alongside a platform, in the middle of several tracks. Looking out I could see old run down houses along the side of the tracks, with not a single person in sight. There were a few signs in a language that I could not read, with a flag flying in the distance that I did not know the origin of. A group of about ten people began boarding the train, all looking very official and speaking quickly to each other. The first few officials passed through the cart quickly, saying "customs, customs, anything to claim?" but not really looking directly at anyone. When they got to my seat I was certain I was caught, as I was sitting there snacking on my Croatian raspberries. I froze, knowing absolutely nothing about border crossing rules or regulations and not sure how they would respond to this produce heading across the border, since my main reference of border crossings is the Canadian-US border where produce is one of the main items you are asked about. The customs brigade passed by and the lead officer hesitated for only a second to take a second look at me and I'm pretty sure I saw her eyes roll as she kept walking, followed by several others in uniform that were carrying large guns. The next group was passport control, and the tall man in his official uniform quickly demanded my passport which I was prepared with. He spent an uncomfortably long time looking through each page, examining my information while looking up at me from time to time, but not asking a single question or saying anything to me at all. Eventually he decided I was worthy of entrance and forcefully stamped my passport, before giving it back to me and moved on. Just like the customs officer he was followed by his own security guards with big guns. Breathing a sigh of relief, I waited impatiently for the train to eventually start rolling away from this strange location, and a few hours later I had finally arrived in the city of Vienna.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">The Stephansdom church is where my sight seeing adventures began. In the centre of the city it is largest church in Vienna, built in a beautiful gothic style it towers over all the surrounding buildings on one of the main pedestrian streets in Vienna. My new host met me in front of the Stephansdom, along with another traveler joining us from Zurich, we all went back to the apartment to get settled in before spending an evening out together. Joined by the members of my host's Rugby team, we enjoyed our night in the city centre with the entertainment that comes from an Irish Pub full of locals. We all became friends quickly, learning about one another's travel stories and making plans for the days ahead. My fellow surfer joined me on some explorations through the city the following days. She was on a short vacation through the weekend, having always wanted to visit Vienna she traveled nine hours through the night from her home in Switzerland. She was great company during the time we spent together, and she invited me to visit with her again in Zurich in the upcoming weeks. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now, I have spent a lot of time in the past couple months exploring some of Europe's major cities and capitals. While beautiful, and full of historical value, many of the major cities have been overwhelming, and often times quite dirty from pollution and over population. Vienna was nothing like this. Beautiful in every way, and cleaner than any other city I have been to, I stepped off the train and was welcomed by fresh cold mountain air telling me that the fall season has arrived in Vienna with full force. The trees that line the streets are starting to loose their leaves as they turn to all shades of yellow and orange. Every street is lined with pathways for pedestrians and a separate lane for bicycles. In some areas there are far more bikes than cars on the road, because people prefer this form of transportation and the city accommodates them with their own paths and even street lights dedicated to the safety of bicycle crossings. Though crowded with tourists, the city streets are not unbearable, there are too many beautiful sights to see to worry about the crowds. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">One day in Vienna while wandering the streets for hours I came across an Oktoberfest themed street market where traditional Viennese meals were being prepared for sale and served with locally brewed beer. Children were carving and painting pumpkins on one end of the market, while other venders were selling their produce and hand crafted trinkets. I joined the small crowd of attendees and sampled some Austrian cuisine with a hearty Bavarian beer to go with it while I watched the festivities go on. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Around ever corner of Vienna there is another new sight to be seen, it it difficult sometimes to keep track of everything that is seen. I spent an entire day discovering beautiful buildings and places, many times having no clue what I was looking at specifically, but enjoying it none the less. The amount of architectural detail that goes into every public building in this city is incredible. A building that appears to be a massive Gothic style church is not in fact a church or monument but simply the town hall building. The Parliament building is lined with golden statues and an elegant staircase in the front entrance and is one of the most attractive places in the city. The parks are full of cobblestone pathways, fountains, and war monuments along the way. The Opera house is one of the only buildings that looks simple from the outside, only because the detailed design is focused on every inch of the inside. Deciding to sneak in as one performance had ended, I tried to catch a glance at the famous theatre, but in my attempt to climb the stairs into the balcony I was caught and sent away, though I could tell from just the staircases and wall decorations that the details put into the creation the Opera building was nothing short of a masterpiece. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Wiener Riesenrad, German for "Vinnese Giant Wheel" is in the centre of a small carnival area with amusement park rides of all kinds. On the opposite side of the carnival area, I followed the noise of the crowds and music playing to find Oktoberfest happening in Austria! People wandering the paths in their lederhosen and dirndls, all with a stein of beer in their hands while dancing and clapping to the bands strolling through the festival equipped with various instruments, including accordions of course. I couldn't pass up a chance to participate in the festivities, and though the admission to the large tents has passed, I observed from the outside all the people standing on tables, shouting out their favorite songs while I snacked on my giant Bavarian pretzel with a delicious beer to go along with it and I couldn't have been happier about it. </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-1375451478495330212012-10-28T14:12:00.000-07:002012-11-03T12:56:56.874-07:00The hills are alive....in Salzburg<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">A few hours away from Vienna is the beautiful city of Salzburg, mostly known by Americans as the city where the Sound of Music originated, and where much a of the filming took place. Though I did not see any singing children riding bicycles through the town, I can understand where the inspiration for such a loved film comes from. The entire train ride over I had my eyes glued to the window, watching the green meadows pass by with small clusters of colorful houses sitting on the hills up above the roads, smoke filtering out of the chimney, keeping warm from the cold mountain air. While the weather did maintain the coolness that I found in Vienna, I was lucky enough to catch a couple of beautiful days with blue skies before the rain rolled in. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">The Salzburg Cathedral was built in the 17th century as a baroque Roman Catholic church that has been reconstructed many times as a result of damages to it over many centuries, the most recent major reconstruction being after a bomb went through one of the major domes during World War II. Massive in size, towering over 100 feet high, and located in the heart of the historical district, the Cathedral is what your eyes are drawn to first in the city of Salzburg, </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Besides the Sound of Music, Salzburg's other major claim to fame is that it is the birthplace of Wolfgang Mozart. There are many monuments upheld in remembrance of the great composer, including the actual place of his birth and an entire Plazzo dedicated to his memory, with a stature erected of him in the centre. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">One day of exploration was spent at the Hohensalzburg Castle at the top of the old town, looking out over all of Salzburg. Built on the top of Festungsberg mountain in the city centre, construction originally began in the 12th century but the castle has transformed in many ways over the past few centuries and has been occupied by several rulers who each made their own contribution and alterations. From the highest tower, the entire old town of Salzburg can be seen, as well as much of the surrounding areas. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Near Salzburg are the Hallein Salt Mines that have been mined in for thousands of years and have provided the region of Salzburg a prime economic trading power with mass quantities of salt that come out of the mines each year. This particular area is no longer an active mine and is now an interactive tour to show the inside of some of the mines. Preparation was done before heading below ground, by covering yourself with a white coverall suit to protect regular clothing, and keep visitors warm in the freezing underground tunnels. The journey into the mines began with a train ride through the tunnels where we then trekked through even smaller tunnels, stopping along the way to collect information about the evolution of the salt mining process in this area from our tour guide. The main event of the tour are the wooden slides that take visitors even further into the depths of the tunnels. Sliding down the wooden rails, you travel quickly over 40 meters down into the lower levels of the salt mines. There was also a short boat ride to show how in the past there were areas of the mines in which the concentration of salt was so strong that the best way to retract it from the stone was to pump water in, creating a small lake that became saturated with salt, and was then filtered out once again where the salt was collected. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">The Mirabell Palace is a historical building of Salzburg, but is well known mostly for the beautiful arrangement of gardens that surround the Palace. These gardens are full of different colored flowers, with pathways for visitors to wander through while enjoying the statues and fountains along the way. This area is also the location of the famous "do-re-mi" song in Sound of Music, as the children and Maria dance there way through the city together. </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-84620699499117174592012-10-19T04:47:00.002-07:002012-10-19T04:47:26.526-07:00Zagreb, Croatia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Visiting Zagreb, Croatia's capital, had not been apart of my original travel plan, but after two bus rides totaling over eleven hours of travel in one day, I just didn't have it in me to board an overnight train to Austria. Arriving just before the reception desk was closing down, I checked into the last minute hostel and welcomed some much needed sleep. The following day's train schedule allowed me to explore the capital a bit before heading north again. With a few suggestions about what to see from the kind staff, I took off down towards the centre, finding many entertaining scenes along the way. The main attraction for me was the street market. This street market was probably the most vibrantly colored and cheerful market I have encountered through out Europe so far. Instead of following the rows of venders along a long skinny street like how most markets are set-up, this one had an entire square dedicated to the plywood tables full of produce and bright red umbrellas overhead. The assortment of fresh items were scattered around the square as locals and tourist shuffled past. The cartons of berries covered everything variety you could think of, and some tables were stacked two feet high just with potatoes. The venders were all smiles instead of typical quick and impersonal transaction, and were joking with each other about one thing or another. Along the outer rows of the fruits and vegetables were additional venders with hand crafted wood work and woven baskets for sale. Strolling through the market for a bit, I could not resist a fresh container of raspberries. I made my purchase and continued through the city, passing through the largest church in Zagreb, countless memorials and tributes to the wartime heros, and admiring beautiful colors and architecture of each building. Soon enough it was time to head to the train station and I said my farewell to the beautiful country of Croatia. </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-2691271442915027902012-10-16T21:51:00.002-07:002012-10-16T21:51:54.282-07:00Dubrovnik, Croatia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">Drawn to Dubrovnik for its reputation as a perfectly traditional city of Croatia, it was time to venture south. Riding along in the charter bus I had a front row seat to the entire coast of Croatia, passing by tiny villages with small houses with red roof shingles sitting up on the hills, and trails in the thick green forest that leads your eyes down to the beautiful beaches that are left unpopulated in these remote areas. My hostel was positioned with an ideal view of the waterfront and of the large bridge that leads the highway into the city centre. Even though crowded with gigantic cruise boats, the panoramic view was incredible. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;">On a day of adventuring, the short city bus ride dropped me right at the start of the small old town district. The first destination was to take the trolly car up to the fortress at the top of the city where there is a breath-taking view of all of Dubrovnik, and there is a chance to explore the region that was not too long ago used as a safe haven for the residence, and also as a battle station of protection against the constant attacks as the country fought for their freedom. Much of the city was destroyed through out the war, but they have worked hard to recreate much of what once was to ensure that Dubrovnik remains as traditional and attractive as it always has been. Venturing back down into the city centre I found out quickly what the hostel staff meant when they referenced Dubrovnik's "many stairs." Climbing up and down and all around through the city there was so much to see in such a small area. Wandering out the the edge of the port, I sat and watched the boats coming in and out, some bringing in their catch of the day, while others were out just for pleasure or to carry tourists from island to island. The evenings in Dubrovnik were spent watching the sun disappear from the hostel balcony, making meals in the kitchen while chatting the night away over a bottle of Croatian wine with fellow travelers. Just a five minute walk down to the water there was a trail full of local people walking their dogs, docking their boats, or just taking a stroll. On one night I couldn't resist a walk to the end of the docks to watch the city turn to darkness, leaving only when my feet were pruning from letting them dangle in the water for so long. The beautiful city and a hostel with the water so near provided such a comforting feeling, I wasn't surprised to hear myself saying to the hostel staff, "I think I'll stay another night." </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-33245270149958389072012-10-16T13:18:00.001-07:002012-10-16T13:18:31.963-07:00Šibenik, Croatia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Just down the road from Krka National Park, the guided tour took us to the small historical town of Sibenik, to visit the Cathedral of St. James. The construction of the basilica began at the start of the 15th century and after worked on by many architects was completed in the 16th century and is still the most important architectural monument in all of Croatia. Along the outside you will see the detailed face carvings of individual people, residents of the city at the time of construction, which was a very unique attribute to the church. In the back entrance there is a large traditional basin that is still used for baptisms into Catholicism. It was placed at the back of the church because at the time of creation it was completely forbidden for anyone that had not been baptized before entering the holy Cathedral. Another unique piece of the church is that it lacks a bell tower, a very rare occurrence for Cathedrals built in that era, but the space and structural design did not allow it. Instead, there is now an electronic recording of the bells that plays on the hour, in place of an actual bell tower. </div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-80312528047667180712012-10-06T13:07:00.000-07:002012-10-06T13:07:02.407-07:00Krka National Park <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Anytime you mention plans to visit Croatia to other
travelers, the most common response you hear is “you must see the national
parks!” So after listening to the advise of many others, visiting at least on
of Croatia’s parks of gorgeous protected land had become a necessity. Lucky for
me, the national park of Krka was only just over an hour away from Split and my
hostel provided a great hook up for a tour that would take away all the stress
that typically comes with transporting yourself back and forth, and would
supply some actual facts to go along with the beautiful scenery. Taking off
early in the morning, I hopped in the van full of some Aussies, Kiwis, and
Germans with our neighboring van full of a rowdy group of middle aged English
women following close behind, and we were off. Our chatty and informative tour
guide lead us to the park and by the time we were there I was already bursting
with more information than I could retain. Walking down the trail for just a
couple minutes we had arrived at the breathtaking viewpoint of Skradinski Buk, the
Krka Waterfalls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The falls are the result of two rivers combining and flowing together downstream with seventeen waterfalls along the way with the total difference from the first fall to the final one being close to fifty meters. The amount of water that is gushing through the falls varies throughout the different seasons, but averages about fifty cubic meters per second. </div>
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There is a
mock-up village museum located at one end of the park where we toured through
the small historical rooms to learn a bit about the culture of the Croat people
that lived off this land. We were able to see the inside of a traditional
kitchen with the short chairs and tables where people sat close to the ground
so they didn’t breathe in the hot smoke coming from the open fire oven. We also
visited a blacksmith and a woman weaving clothing to show us the traditional
ways in which people provided for their families. The force of the water
rushing through the falls so rapidly was a vital part of their every day life
as it provided natural ways to churn grain into flour and produce a higher
quantity with less physical labor. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">After our museum tour, our guide led us through the
rest of the park on the wooden walkway as we stopped frequently to enjoy the
view of the falls from every angle. At the end of the rivers is the only spot
where visitors can take swim, since the rest of the park is full of rapid waters
too dangerous for swimming and also the protected falls won’t be polluted
if the only entrance for people is down river. Being the only member of the
group willing to brave the water I enjoyed a perfectly relaxing, and some what
chilly swim through the fresh river water, and was reminded how much
more I prefer fresh water over the salty sea water. </span><!--EndFragment-->
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-55294628814370231782012-10-06T12:12:00.000-07:002012-10-06T12:12:10.691-07:00Tragic war, a giant Palace, and one shiny golden toe.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After several hours spent on the train and arriving at the
port of Ancona, Italy to catch the over night ferryboat, I had to remind myself
that this would truly be the final one of these journeys before stepping on
board. Surrounded for the first time in quite a while by a variety of
languages, no longer just Italian flying back and forth, I found my seat and
prepared for the long ride. As the ship sailed away from the coast of Italy, I
said good-bye to my Italian adventures and welcomed the newest country to
explore, Croatia. With not much of a travel plan in mind, I had decided to
start my visit in the city of Split. The boat docked early the next morning and
I was off in search of my hostel. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The historical district of Split sits within the walls of
Diocletian’s Palace. Diocletian was a Roman Emperor that built his massive
palace in the fourth century as a retirement home. This retirement home is now
the city centre that has been transformed into various apartments, hotels,
shops, and tourists offices, with the green marketplace and main promenade, and
waterfront surrounding the outside. With three separate entrances, the gold,
silver, and iron gates each lead you to the two main cross streets and connect
to the countless tiny alleyways that will guide you through the historical
district.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hostel, located just
inside the silver gate, was constructed along one of the original walls of the
palace. With the whole day ahead of me, and having very little knowledge about
the area, I decided to join the free walking tour that morning to find out what
I could learn about the city. Our friendly guide wandered the streets with our
small group providing both interesting historical facts and helpful tips from a
local to shed some light on the Croatian culture.</div>
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It is a very unique experience to be in a country that has such recent history. In 1991, Croatia officially declared independence from Yugoslavia. Surrounding countries, particularly Serbia, were not willing to let Croatia claim their independence without a fight. The desire to keep Croatia part of the Yugoslavia nation was strong, mostly due to the prime location of the beautiful land and their access to the Adriatic Sea. The War of Croatian Independence began in 1991, and concluded in 1995 when Croatia was officially recognized as a free country with its current borders. Those long years of the war resulted in thousands of Croat deaths, and many people fled the country to avoid the brutal destruction of their cities. It was very surreal to have this history told to us by some one not much older than myself that can remember first hand the amount of tragedy and destruction that took place in her country not too long ago.</div>
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Along the way of the tour we visited many interesting points of Split, Including the huge statue of archbishop Grgur Ninski outside the palace walls. This man was a Croatian bishop that was responsible for being the first to go against the Pope and held services in the Croatian language instead of Latin, because the majority of the population did not understand the Latin language. His statue is most famous for the giant golden toe, that shines so well as a result of the consistent rubbing that both the local people and the tourists do when passing by to say a prayer, confess some bad deeds, or make a hopeful wish for the future. There are also many famous opera theatres through out Split that we passed by during the tour, and though all of the performances are only in Croatian, our guide recommended them to us saying that since it’s opera, it really doesn’t matter what language it’s in because it all sounds the same anyways. Located so close to the sea, Split also has a fantastic fish market where people can go daily to get fresh fish brought from the sea that morning. You will not find any flies at this fish market because of the sulfur spa located not too far from there, which keeps the pesky insects away from the area. At the conclusion of the tour we climbed to the top of the bell tower that sits in the centre of the palace and I was able to look out over the entire city and out across the sea. </div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-7594262694069201202012-10-02T08:52:00.002-07:002012-10-06T12:12:25.119-07:00Genoa, Italy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My short time spent in Genoa could really just be
described as passing through, since my time was limited to explore the city
of over half a million, and the largest historical district in all of Italy. My
first night there I met up with my new host and he took me through the city,
stopping at some of Genoa’s best scenes including the Cathedral and Piazza De
Ferrari, the main square of the city. We strolled through the streets while
sampling the focaccia bread that Genoa is famous for, which will make me unable
to appreciate focaccia anywhere else ever again because no where else will
compare to how delicious this was. My new Italian friend was most excited to
show me one monument in particular, Christopher Columbus’ house. Unwilling to
offend my gracious host with my negative opinions about Christopher Columbus,
because he was obviously very excited to be showing his first American surfer the
home of the alleged founder of our country, I chose not to discuss my distaste
for Columbus with him. The history nerd in me did find it pretty exciting to
see the house, despite my dislike for this historical figure that we still have
a holiday dedicated to for some reason. So I took my pictures to capture the
sight and we continued through the city to see a few more places together
before calling it a night. I had chance to explore a bit more on my own the
morning before my train left to take me across the country to catch the
ferryboat, and I explored just a fraction of the city, looking up at the
massive buildings all around me in every direction through out the historical
center. </span><!--EndFragment-->
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-89072502614434569732012-10-02T08:04:00.002-07:002012-10-02T08:04:27.328-07:00Cinque Terra<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A great day was spent town hoping through the picturesque
towns of the Cinque Terra. These five mountain villages are found in the north
of Italy bordering the Italian Riviera. It has grown to be a big tourist hot
spot, and I was surprised how at times the only language I could here being
spoken was English. With only one day to try to see it all I began my adventure
before the sun was up, taking the two-hour train in from Genoa. The first stop
was in Monterosso, a tiny village surrounded by greenery, and as you enter the
town from the train station the road leads you all along the waterfront. It was
a cloudy and at times rainy day, so not a good time for swimming, but on a nice
day this village would make the best beach spot. Hiking up the hillside to look
down into the village I found a beautiful church along the way, and at the very
top, a cemetery full of rows and rows of graves dating back to the early
1900’s, all with a picture of the deceased displayed on the outside. Wandering
down the hill into the town I did a bit of exploring, finding a clock tower and
many adorable buildings before it was time to move on to the next village.</div>
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Vernazza, was the second stop, where I wandered into the city to find pictures along the walls displaying the catastrophic flood that practically destroyed the small village less than a year ago. After learning about the disaster I was amazed to see how quickly the town had revived itself, now having barely any trace that such a short time ago the city was almost completely drowned. My first destination was to the waterfront where you can find the small boats docked for the day, and behind me the strong waves were crashing on the rocks from the stormy wind blowing in. Climbing up the stairs from the port I reached the Castello Doria, the highest point of the city looking down on the colorful buildings below.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Corniglia was the third village to visit, and it sits up quite a bit higher from the train station than the other towns, so as I stepped off the train the uphill hoof began. The exhaustion from the upward trek was worth it, and I wandered through the smallest village yet, taking in the colors and unique layout. Wandering just outside of the center, you can capture the full scene of this miniature town balancing on the green hillside directly above the sea, with other green hills surrounding the area as well.</div>
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As a result of the poor weather, the hiking trails between the cities had all been closed and the touring boats were not running since the water was too rough, so the trains were the only way eager tourists could transport themselves from village to village, resulting in some very delayed and crowded train rides. So after waiting for a very late train, the day was growing shorter and I had to pass by the forth village and move on to Riomaggiore, the fifth and final town. After meeting a guide on one train earlier he had given me some advise about the route to take, so I turned left from the station and started the uphill climb once again. It is clear why Riomaggiore is the final village to visit, following the rule of saving the best for last. The largest of all of them, it has the most attractive colors of all the towns, and is positioned directly on the sea, the colorful buildings towering over the waves coming in to upset the anchored down boats as people climb up to the hill to capture the view.</div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-18582964051947603082012-10-02T05:33:00.001-07:002012-10-02T06:03:33.458-07:00Roma, better from the back of a motorbike<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Arriving in Roma, I was reminded quickly how chaotically
wonderful this ancient city can be. Full of tourists trying to see it all, and
historical sights that can be found in every direction you turn, it is a great place
to get lost while just trying to take it all in. My new host met me at the metro
station we had discussed, and welcomed me into his home before we set off towards
the city centre to site see for a bit that evening. Similar to the size of
Athens, the traffic is a constant cluster so a lot of the local’s favorite way
of transportation is by motorbike. It allows you to weave between the cars at
the stoplight to reach the front of the line, and traffic becomes somewhat irrelevant
to you. My host is not one to wait for the traffic, so off we went on his bright red motorbike to the city centre. Sitting back, watching the city go by all around me, I decided quickly
that traveling through the city via motorbike was a far better way to see the sights than hoping on and
off the underground Metro. Having a local guide, especially
in a city that size, is a priceless opportunity for such great
discoveries that would never be found without the help of a knowing eye. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times;">From a location unknown to the typical tourist, we
started off in search of a building found amongst several beautiful gardens and
famous churches. This particular building has become an attraction due to the significant
keyhole found in the front doorway. From this particular keyhole, built with no
intention at all, you can look in and see a perfectly framed image of the top
of Saint Peter’s Basilica from the Vatican with not a single other building in
sight. It is perfectly aligned, and not from a small distance either, it is seen from miles away and the size is of the Basilica is reduced to only what your
eye can see through just the keyhole. The beautiful greenery lining the sides
of the passageway that leads your eye to the image of the framed church at the
end creates a truly incredible sight. </span><!--EndFragment-->
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times;">This historical drain, Bocca della Verita, the “mouth
of truth,” is said to be a legendary truth teller. Putting your hand inside of
it and telling a lie would result in the loss of your hand from the other side.
The story goes further to tell about a particular woman who was accused of
adultery and sentenced to putting her hand in the drain to determine her
loyalty to her husband. Before publicly declaring her innocence she went to her
lover and told him to attack her in public, kissing her all over and acting
possessed. She would cast him away in public, pretending to never have seen him
before and carry on to put her hand in the drain and proclaim, “I have never
kissed a man other than my husband, or this man” referencing her allegedly
crazed lover of course, and keeping her hand. </span><!--EndFragment-->
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times;">Looking down into the Roman Forum, you can see what
was once the most significant part of the Roman Empire, and it is now various
ruins across a large terrain. Sitting up on the ledge enjoying the sight, my
new friend told me about how it snowed in Rome for the first time in thirty
years this past winter and the Roman Forum was a winter wonderland. Just past
the Forum you can see the Colesseum in all its glory. </span></div>
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times;">Walking up to the capital building from the Roman city
centre, you can find the statue of the wolf feeding the two small boys with her
milk. This statue is the representation of the creation of Rome. These two small
children, brothers, were abandoned by their mother and taken in and cared for
by the wolf. Legend says that the two boys grew up to be the creators of Rome. </span><!--EndFragment-->
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times;">Passing through a less crowded street my guide stopped
suddenly and took us down a tiny alleyway with the entrance to the tiniest church
waiting at the end. It is the smallest “Marian Sanctuary of Rome” where the
image of the Holy Virgin Mary is honored. Only seating less than ten attendees,
we passed through just as the priest was arriving to begin the Sunday evening
service. </span><!--EndFragment-->
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times;">Wandering through the streets, even in the busiest
time of the day, if you are in the right part of the town you can hear the
Trevi fountain from blocks away. The fountain was just as enormous and
beautiful as I remember, and surrounded by eager coin throwers wanting to make
their wish. Almost more entertaining and definitely more comical than the
fountain itself is the constantly massive crowds herding around one of Rome’s
most famous attractions. </span><!--EndFragment-->
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times;">In the Piazzo Navona, a giant beautiful church sits on
one side, and three fountains with intense structural detail lay in a line down
the center, the largest fountain in the middle. The two artist, one creating
the design of the church while the other was responsible for the fountains,
were rivals, and if you look carefully at the center fountain you will notice
that none of the large statues along the sides are looking in the direction on
the church, all their eyes are blocked by something or cast to the side. The
one figure facing directly towards the church even has his hand lifted up in
front of his eyes as if to say “ugh, what an ugly church, I don’t want to look
at it,” representing the strong rivalry that existed between these two artists,
unwilling to share the plaza. </span><!--EndFragment-->
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times;">Built over two thousand years ago the Pantheon in Rome
is still one of the most structurally sound concrete domes in the world. The
huge opening in the center of the ceiling provides the only light that pours
into the temple during the day, giving life to the various alters that are set
up all around the inside. Different representations of gods of ancient Rome are
depicted here, and the circular construction of the Pantheon was created with
purpose to suggest that not one divinity should be the center, but that they
can all exist together and face one another. After some reconstruction in the
second century it was transformed a bit, and since the seventh century it has
become a Roman Catholic Church of worship, dedicated to “St. Mary and the Martyrs.” </span><!--EndFragment-->
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times;">In route to The Vatican, along the road bordering the
Tiber River that runs through most of the city, I took my time lingering to enjoy
the bridges, Castles, fountains, and various other Roman structures along the
way. Making the mistake of following the main road into the Vatican city, I was
stopped constantly, harassed by the guides eager to capture you for their tour
through the church, persuading you with the opportunity to cut the line. When I
would pass through by responding with “no thank you, I’m not going inside” the
shocked reactions were priceless. This being my second visit to the city of the
Vatican, I already had the chance to marvel at the inside of the church and
climb to the highest point of St. Peter’s Basilica and look down over all the
city. This visit had the intention of just passing through, saying hello to a
familiar place. I had forgotten how completely amazing and gigantic the columns
and the church actually are when you get up close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><!--EndFragment-->
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times;">The first time I was in Rome, I left knowing there
were so many parts of the city left undiscovered, which is probably inevitable
no matter how many visits are made to the ancient city. Rome holds so many attractions,
some well known while others are more hidden, but one of the stops I knew I had
to make this time around was to the Spanish Steps that sit between the Pianna
di Spagna and Piazza trinita dei Monti. The Spanish Steps, or "Scalinata della
Trinita dei Monti" in Italian, is the widest staircase in all of Europe, and the
beautiful Trinita dei Monti church sits at the top, towering down over the 138
steps. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><!--EndFragment-->
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times;">Hanging with a local also guarantees that you are
going to eat the local way. Tromping through the city on the first night left
us quite hungry and he led us to a small, crowded hole in the wall restaurant,
Pizzeria Buffetto, where the pizza rivals Napoli in delicious quality, but as
he explained to me that the two styles are so different that you really can’t
try to compare the two. Later on another stop was made to get the “best gelato in Rome”
and once again, not disappointed. The final night I was in Rome we ventured to
a different neighborhood on the west side of the city where there was a
traditional Roman restaurant packed with locals with a line out the door.
Squished in the back, sharing the table with other guests, I let him pick our delicious meal of peppered pasta with a rich cheese covering followed by a
course of shredded beef on rocket with roasted potatoes in some sort of
heavenly sauce, and we dined like true Romans. </span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-67417037795505067192012-09-27T00:39:00.002-07:002012-09-28T09:54:50.778-07:00Cefalu, the last Sicilian adventure.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Arriving in Cefalu, I left the train station with no plan
ahead of me. I had no map, no address scribbled down, and no plans of where to
stay that night. I only had one night that was growing shorter by the minute
and half a day to see the small town of Cefalu, but my first task was securing
a place to sleep. After wandering around for some time, my bag growing heavier,
I popped into a tourist information point and met a very chatty Italian man who
was able to call a B&B for me to try, and they said they were on there way
to pick me up. When they didn’t arrive he started carrying on about the
apartments he rents out, but I was still set on the idea of a cheap B&B and
didn’t allow him to sell me on this idea. That was until he called back to
check on the status of their arrival and found out they had rented out their
last room while I was waiting. Full of solutions, he told me not to worry
because he would call “his guy” who showed up in a minute to escort me to the
surprisingly reasonably priced apartment for the night. Walking down the main
road, passing the Duomo Cathedral and adorable streets, and stepping into the
large spacious apartment all just for me, I began wishing for more nights in
Cefalu. Alas, my return ferry ticket had already been purchased to Napoli and I
had to leave the next day. After collecting loads of advise from “the guy”
about what to see that night and the following day he left me to it.</div>
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The
following morning, well rested from a peaceful sleep in a room of my own, I got
up early and began exploring. After wandering the streets aimlessly for some
time, I visited the plaza of the Duomo Cathdral, exploring the inside while
trying to eavesdrop some information from all the tours going through, since
some of them were in English. Continuing on I decided to climb up, “La Rocca,”
the giant mountain rock that sits behind Cefalu, and at the top is full of many
historical ruins including a large castle and the Temple of Diana, which is
made from massive stones. Though not quite as large, the people of Cefalu
relate the creation of the Temple to the mystery of Stonehenge, both leaving
archeologists puzzled about how such massive stones would be transported during
the time of its creation. On the hike up I underestimated the height of the
rock, and was exhausted by the time I was only a quarter of the way to the top,
stopping often not only to bask in the scenery but mostly to catch my breathe.
Reaching the top you can see all of Cefalu, along the beaches and every
building in sight. After exploring the Temple of Diana and some of the other
sights, I trekked back down to find the recommended beach from “the guy” and
spent the last couple hours of my time in Cefalu people watching on the beach
and enjoying the sea before heading off to the train station once again. </div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-22655927611745185592012-09-27T00:28:00.000-07:002012-09-27T00:28:10.579-07:00Panarea, a piece of paradise. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Stepping off the miniature ferryboat onto the port platform,
that could only be a handful of meters wide, I strolled towards the edge of the
dock, greeted by my new host along the way. With a comforting grin on his face,
he shook my hand and welcomed me to the island of Panarea. He has a kind
demeanor, with curly shoulder length locks, mostly full of sun streaks with a
hint of grey here and there being the only thing that might lead you to believe
he is maybe a day over fifty. Dressed head to toe in island comfort all the way
down to his shoes, worn out crocs, showing the wear and tear of his adventurous
island lifestyle. With his thick Scottish accent he invited me to join him and
his friends for a drink, over looking the beautiful landscape along the water.
Introductions were made and drinks were had, and after a nice evening cocktail
I hopped on the back of his motorbike as he took us to his home. The narrow
roads of Panarea, with enough room only for a golf cart, motorbike, or small
buggy, led us up the hillside just a few minutes away. Stepping down the stones
aligned together as steps, leading me into an entrance surrounded by perfectly
arranged trees, I arrived at his hand crafted home. The trees and plants of the
property surround you as you look down to one side where the water goes on
forever, only interrupted briefly by surrounding islands. And to the left sits
the house, made with simplistic character and charm that fits its location and
owner perfectly. Straight ahead you’ll find the wash drying on the line in the
sunshine, with the hammock perfectly positioned for lounging while overlooking
the scenery, and a bamboo roof covering a table setting that has weathered a
few storms in its time. <o:p></o:p><br />
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From the moment we entered the premises of the home we were greeted by the felines of the home, each of them with their own personality. Bruna, a boisterous female that is not afraid to tell you what she wants, and when she’s had enough of you with a quick swipe. Vicki, the mellow mama kitty with a strong will to live, as she has already survived major surgery that left her without ears and a skittish personality. Squirrel, the night owl that sleeps away the days recovering from his adventurous nights, and always seems to know something you don’t. Boots, the playful black cat with white fur boots that help you find her in the night. Stripey, sister to Boots, prefers the highest perch of the kitchen to watch over all the action and looks for comfort from your warm sleeping body early in the morning. And don’t forget Nella, not an official member of the family but visiting for some time while she drinks from the tap and tries to politely not eat from anyone’s food dish but her own.</div>
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Panarea, the smallest of the Aeolian islands, with a population of about 250 year round, only reaching around 1,000 in the height of the season, is a perfectly deserted island, and not taken over with light pollution at night, creating the ideal setting to see what feels like every star in the galaxies. The neighboring island of Stromboli is an active volcano with lava eruptions from the crater almost consistently enough to set your watch to. Climbing up to the view point down the road, guided by the knowledge of my tour guide, a small torch, and the light of the stars, we settled on a flat rock top hoping to see the miraculous sight of flaming hot lava shooting into the night sky. Within the first twenty minutes, suddenly across the water all that could be seen was a large red burst of volcanic matter, and then it slowly faded into the side of the mountain. In complete awe, and desiring more of the show, we sat and watched for more eruptions and were not disappointed in the active volcano, or the stars.</div>
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The island days were spent exploring the wondrous beaches that the island holds, basking in the endless sunshine, and general relaxation and rejuvenation. Waking early in the morning to venture to the rocky beach down the road, we hiked down the hillside to join the hundreds of fish in the water below. Snorkel mask on, and ready to face my persistent fear of the creatures of the sea, I submerged myself in the water and looked down to find an entire world of sea life to discover. Brightly colored stripped fish hanging out solo, round small fish flocking in large schools traveling together through the seaweed covered rocks, and small jellyfish that sneak up on you while you watch the rest of the fast paced sea life go by. Best of all, the volcanic bubbles that rise from the floor of the sea, rising to the top quickly, looking like shimmering diamonds of all sizes as they dance their way to the surface, releasing the tension from the active volcano so close by. We swam our way around the rock bend to find a personalized hot spring within a nearby cave. The cold seawater crashed in changing the temperature constantly, but the persistent volcanic heat still provided a relaxing hot spot.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Later on there was another beach with more sea life to explore, but along the way we first passed through the ancient fortress ruins, located at the end of the island, perfectly position for a solid defense, high up on the cliffs protected from intruders. Unlike any other site of ancient ruins I have visited through out all of Italia, this one was completely free from tourists, not even a site guard watching over the ancient land. Much like everything else on the island, the attitude was relaxed and open. Looking down onto the beaches surrounding the area you can see where the fragile cliff sides were slowly falling into the sea water as a result of the morning rain, leaving you wondering how different the structure of the island must have been just a sort time ago, shifting and changing with the storms and the volcanic activity.</div>
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Between beach hoping and visiting with friends through out the small village, the days were also spent in the comfort of the small home on the hillside. The sun disappears to the opposite end of the island by mid-afternoon creating the not too hot relaxing place for a nice slumber after a trek across the island and a swim with the fish. Through the kitchen window classic rock plays while lounging away in the hammock with a good book. Looking over the sea and watching geckos and lizards racing around on the walls nearest, while the cats slink below you with their tails reaching up to the bottom of the hammock to let you know they are in need of some attention. Meals provided by my new friend were delicious, full of fresh vegetables brought in weekly from the vegetable guy and some found in the garden surrounding the house. Accompanied with a nice cold white Sicilian wine, we would dine at the outdoor table, looking out over the water at lunch, and eating by only the light of the candles during the darkness of a late night dinner.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Only three short days on this island and suddenly it was time to move on to new places. From the inside of the small ferry I waved farewell to the new friends that were at the port to see me off, and as I found my seat on the boat I thought of how this island was an unexpected treasure, and truly a piece of paradise.<div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-2765550125084719822012-09-22T23:34:00.000-07:002012-09-22T23:34:04.422-07:00Taormina, Sicily<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Leaving the city of Catania behind I was off to
smaller and better places, the beautiful tourist filled village of Taormina.
Arriving at the hostel, sweating and exhausted from the long uphill hoof with
my backpack weighing on my shoulders I quickly got the information I needed and
headed out to enjoy the town since there was only one day to see it all.
Stopping off at the market to get some snacks first, I headed towards the
winding stairs at the end of the road that would provide a scenic view of the
coastline as I trekked my way down to the beautiful beaches. After enjoying the
picnic lunch and dozing on the rocks for a while, the clouds rolled in and told
me it was time to head back up to the city. Riding the small cable car up the
hillside, squished together with several other passengers, I turned myself
around to watch the water get smaller and smaller beneath us and enjoyed the
view of the neighboring cities down the coast. The small city of Taormina
mostly consists of one main road, where all the major attractions can be found.
The <i>Porte Arche </i></span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">begins the historical district of the main
street, Corso Umberto, where the first stop was up to the Teatro Greco, the
Greek Theatre. Massive in size and perfectly positioned to have the best view
of both the town and the sea, the Teatro Greco was a gorgeous monument.
Exploring the ins and outs of the entertainment arena and climbing to the
highest point to catch a view of the entire region, I then continued on along
main-street to visit the Duomo Cathedral and the Clock town. Stepping inside
some of the churches along the way was a necessity, some had services in
process and though interesting to watch, made me feel under dressed and out of
place so I quickly continued on my way. After purchasing a few items to cook
for dinner and a bottle of Sicilian wine I headed back to the hostel where I
found four Austrian travelers to share the kitchen with. Friends for many years
they were traveling through Sicily for a couple weeks, and had stumbled upon
Taormina for the night. Our separate meals quickly became one as we shared
supplies and beverages, and all dined together on the terrace until late in the
night. </span><!--EndFragment-->
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11728881775586412967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8055830999859204744.post-80665435139042817592012-09-22T06:48:00.004-07:002012-09-22T06:48:59.442-07:00Catania, Sicily<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The rain had settled down in Palermo but I was ready
for something new. A long day on the train landed me in Catania, on the south
east side of the island of Sicily. The first day was a recovery-oriented day
with much needed long hot shower, an overdue load of laundry, catching up on
sleep, socializing with other travelers, and just general relaxation. Site
seeing resumed on the following morning, which began once again with just me,
my map, and my camera, with no real plan in mind. Catania boasts the largest
Monastery in all of Europe, Monastero Dei Benedettini di San Nicolo L’Arena,
which was my first stop for the day. Unfortunately a University had reserved
the sight for the entire day so I was unable to explore the massive inside. As
I continued on, another traveler and I were wandering through the same path,
mostly along deserted roads full of large churches every half block, darting in and
out of them, snapping pictures, reading the informative signs placed in front
and continuing on our way. When our paths literally crossed into each other he
said to me, “Same route, eh?” with a smile and thick Italian accent. We
exchanged pleasantries and I learned that he was only here for the afternoon,
and was staying in Messina, a town just north of here for a job training. His
ancestors were from Sicily but he was visiting most of these places for the
first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We both went on our
way, in separate directions for the first time and I wandered toward the <i>Piazzo
Centrale</i></span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> to see the symbol of the city, an Elephant statue in the centre of the
plaza. Along the way were street artists painting and sketching their
surroundings, and a large festival in a smaller plaza, <i>Piazzo Universito,</i></span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> hosted what
I assumed was an antique car show full of old motorbikes, buggies, and war
vehicles. Reaching the end of the historical centre I turned around to attempt
to find some place to eat. After roaming around unsuccessfully for a bit my
fellow city explorer from before appeared in the crowd and asked if we should
grab some lunch together. Relieved by his perfect Italian that helped us find
our way to a hidden ristorante, we enjoyed a delicious meal and I learned that
he is the Chief Officer of a cargo ship and travels all over the world
transporting anything you could imagine. Though he rarely has a chance to leave
the ship for exploring a new place he said he feels like he’s seen the world through
his binoculars. We continued on from lunch to a café for cannolis (founded in Sicily) and coffee,
which was followed by a wild car ride where he dropped me off at the <i>Piazzo
Bellini</i></span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> before continuing on his way back to Messina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After exploring the city a bit more I retired to the hostel
for a night spent chatting away with a couple Aussies, a Swiss-Italian and a
girl from Seattle.</span><br />
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