Fin

Well, here I am on the train from Salzburg back to Munich, where I spent a lovely day with some Aussies exploring the town. It was the perfect way to end this euro trip for a lot of reasons, but mainly because it epitomized the experience of traveling in Europe. In the sense that you met people you never would have before and suddenly, due to circumstances, a bit of luck, and the occasional pint you wind up becoming friends and casually driving to another country for the day. Just. Like. That.

The past six months cannot be summarized in a blog post, they cannot fit neatly into the constraints of a postcard or letter, they can't be measured by the number of likes on a Facebook photo, and they definitely cannot compare to anything else I have experienced before. From the beginning days "studying" in Leicester (and I use the term here loosely, and in the best ways possible), to the final days spent in train stations, trying desperately to catch up on sleep, walking through sore feet, and juggling bags of luggage on the tube, I wouldn't change a moment.

There is a quote that says, "the point of traveling is not to step foot onto foreign land, but to eventually set foot onto ones homeland as a foreign country". As the day to my flight home draws nearer and nearer I can't help but feel this quotation gets it all right. Sure, I'll know the bus routes and the street names back home by heart, but I'll be experiencing my hometown in a whole new light. I'll be visiting the same places and seeing the same wonderful friends I have had for ages, but with a new perspective. A new perspective that incorporates all of the cultures, histories and traditions I have learned about while being abroad.

Those perspectives will also incorporate my own personal moments. Moments that include, getting lost in Brussels, wandering around Stirling in the pouring rain, watching a bullfight in Spain, eating pizza in Italy, swimming in the Mediterranean sea, walking alongside the Berlin Wall, drinking the worlds first lager in Prague, visiting the Dachau concentration camp in Munich, and so much more. And these will be the experiences that no matter how much I try to talk about them in stories or share them through photos, will be uniquely mine and shape the course of my travel. Not all are good, some are stressful, others lonely, others complicated, or messy; but all are a part of it.

And for the opportunity to experience these moments, good and bad and entirely indescribable, I am eternally grateful to the family and friends I have back home, and to those who I have met along the way. Near or far, you were a part of every smile, cry, laugh, cheer, chant, scream, whisper and awe inspired sigh I had along the way. See you all soon! 

Cheers,

Alison 

Eastern euro

During my recent visit to some of eastern Europe, a friend asked me what's the appeal? Everyone talks about Paris and Rome, but rarely do you ever hear tourists rave about The Czech Republic or Hungary, what gives?

To answer that I'll break it down into three B's: beer, bucks and bizarre history.

It's no secret I like my beer. Ales, lagers, stout; I'll take 'em all. So naturally, the flourishing amount of beer produced, distributed and consumed in eastern Europe has to be one of the reasons I loved these countries. Specifically, the coty of Prague is home of the world's first lager and boy, does it show. These thing line the walls of every supermarket, whole sections are dedicated to varieties of beers, and on average a Czech person drinks 1.5 liters of beer...per day. Enough said.

On to the next B, bucks. By this I mean dollars, euros, pound, korunas, whatever you call it. In Budapest they call it fornits - a word I would come to love. The live affair began my first day in Budapest as I sauntered up to the money change desk and handed over a 50 euro bill to (my disbelief) receive over 14,000 fornits in return, for an exchange rate of 1:300 At first I was skeptical, what could this actually get me in the stores? I walked over to the nearest grocery store and went to the beer section (of course), amongst the most expensive beers there were 175-200 fornits...an equivalent of less than 1 euro. Again, enough said.

Finally, bizarre history. This B I was not expecting to encounter. I like reading about history and learning new things so I thought I had a good grasp on what has happened on this side of the pond, but that was to change. A few walking tours later and a trip to some of the memorial sites still standing and I realized I had no clue about most of eastern European history. Suddenly I was acutely aware of kings and queens, rebel religious leaders and Protestant martyrs I had never heard of before, but who each played a significant role in shaping their country as any name I ever had.

So there it is. Beers, bucks and bizarre histories. Just three of the reasons why eastern Europe should be visited, viewed and veered towards.

Just another brick in The Wall

I fell in love with Berlin. I fell fast and hard from the very moment I got off the platform at the train station to the final moment when I got back on to leave. The city was full of energy, youth and excitement. Getting off the train we were greeted by a crowd of people walking around with beers in hand (thanks to no open liquor container laws) enjoying the music of singing buskers. Turns out we stumbled into the city right during an outdoor music festival, in which street performers took up whole blocks playing music. The next day we also wandered into the gay pride parade and walked through the packed streets as food trucks, beer gardens and scantily clad (albeit gay) men danced around.

Besides the lively atmosphere of Berlin there was also a deep historical and cultural side. Visiting the broken wall and the East Side Gallery of portraits painted across it was truly humbling. To visit the sites where Adolf hitler and his dreaded SS once occupied, and to walk through the holocaust memorial site where moments I will never forget. Sites like these are important because they raise questions and leave you wondering about the world you live in. For me, the question remains how could a country, a city, a people who at the present wholly embrace liberal opinions and minorities, discriminated against them in the past? This question is one that is sure to follow me as I explore the neighboring cities of Prague and Budapest. Above all, it is these types of questions and moments that are only permitted through travelling and through walking, even for a day, in someone else's shoes.

It's all Greek to me

My trip to Greece began with a rocky start. After a 2 hour flight delay in Rome, in which none of the airport staff seemed to know what was going on, or were willing to help, we landed in Athens to be greeted by a public transit strike. That meant our 20 minute metro ride turned into a race to find somebody to split a can with amidst a line up of hundreds of people pushing into cabs. Luckily, a lovely Argentinian couple whose parents hosted a girl from clagary learning spanish overhead us and offered to share a cab into town. From there on it was smooth sailing. Literally.

In Santorini we opted to do a boat tour of the island and it's surrounding isles. Along the way we met a group of Canadians from Quebec and Alberta who  spent the day with us on a hike up some volcanic rock, a swim in the Mediterranean, a dip in some hot springs, and sunset in Ia (the most northern part of Santorini). The next day it was off to explore the rest of the island via ATV. We rented one for the day and rove up and done along the coast to see some spectacular views and traditional blue and white churches.

From Santorini, we took the ferry to Paros. This island seemed to be a lot less full of tourists and we were able to walk around the main towns with no one else around, and enjoy the sandy beaches on our own accord. Our living situation in Paros was probably the most interesting thus far. Located right by the beach, we stayed in a "hut" for lack of a better word,     fully equppied with electricity, but lacking in the basic necessities of toilettries, and toilets for that matter...no worries though, most of the time was spent in the ocean or at the pool working on somewhat of a tan in the 30 degree weather.

Taking the ferry back to Athens, we managed to make it to the acropolis and walk amongst the theater of Dionysus and the Parthenon before having our last meal of souvlaki (accompanied by some stray feline friends) and settling in for the night. All in all, Greee has been one of my favorites. The people were friendly, the food and drink were good, the scenery was awesome and the ocean was beautiful.

Tomorrow though it's off to new adventures and new sights in the wonderful city of Berlin!

BRUCE...in Italia

Every country, or every place rather, seems to have that one day or one moment when things shut down and all of it is worth while. It doesn't matter that your train was delayed, or that you walked six hours, or that your hostel bed was unmade, or that you got lost in the middle of another plaza, all that matters is what is happening at that point in time.

For Italy, this moment happened at the Bruce Springsteen concert in Milan. Months ago, in the dreary days of England's February I bought tickets with a friend for the show in June. Then about two weeks ago I found myself sitting in the nosebleed sections of a huge soccer stadium, singing along to every word in broken English with an enthusiastic Italian crowd. The seat section, which made Bruce look like a distant miniature toy army man, didn't matter, the fact that no one around me spoke the same language as me didn't matter, and the struggle of finding our seats amongst the fans didn't matter. All that mattered was that despite the obvious language and cultural barriers, a group of people came together to relish in some good music and good fun. The most suprising part of the experience for me was the universality of Springsteen's music. When born in the USA came on the entire crowd yelled, shouted and applauded in excitement. American flags were on hand and American merchandise populated every kiosk outside the venue. It was as if the American dream had landed, face first and sprawling, into a stadium parking lot of Italy.

Springsteen himself seemed to bask in the cultural appreciation. He started promptly on time, played for three hours straight, showed no sign of his 63 year old age, took requests from the audience at will, and even made a few people's days by bringing them on stage to sing along. Although I wasn't one of those lucky fans, I still felt like one of the luckiest people there.

For a complete set list of his show in Milan check this out
http://brucespringsteen.net/shows/06-03-13-milan-italy
And for another interpretation of the concert here is a good read
http://brucespringsteen.net/news/2013/notes-from-the-road-milan