September in the Baltics

A couple of years ago I had the opportunity to travel to the Baltic States, the first significant trip I did solo. Off I went for 2 weeks to make by way though Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. The following are some observations:

First off I figured traveling in September would be a perfect since the weather would be reasonable, and the tourist would be few. True, the quaint little city centers were not too crowded with tourists, but I couldn’t have been more wrong about the weather. I should have brought along a mink coat. I froze my ass. I think the Baltics in general are pretty much off the tourist circuit, especially once you stray from the capitals of Tallinn, Riga and Vilnius.

Estonia: First and last stop on my trip, and the most “westernized” it seemed to me. Great historic center and friendly people, but also the most expensive of the three counties. In a strange side strip I traveled out to a city not far from the Russian border called Sillamae, and if someone had told me I was in Estonia I would have been shocked. All signs were in Russian, the people spoke only Russian, the restaurants were Russian, and even the architecture harkened back to the communist concrete blocks that are so precious. Granted Estonia was a Russian territory for a significant portion of the 20th century (as was Latvia and Lithuania), but you would have thought they’d have sworn off all things Russian once freed from the Communist hold.

Latvia: Was it just me or were all the people seriously pissed off? And I guess after spending so many years standing in lines, they refuse to recognize the idea of such civilized things now. Judging by the currency exchange offices on every other corner, I got the impression that tourism was really starting to boom. I went out to a spectacular beach community on the Baltic Sea – Jurmala – and ate some dumplings on the boardwalk. Then on the train ride, with wooden niches for seats back to Riga, I got off at a communist era housing complex, where people gave me a look clearly wondering if I was lost. I wasn’t, but it was somewhat creepy and I only stuck around long enough to grab some architectural photographs.

Lithuania: By far my favorite of the three. Friendly people who were eager to please, and a fairly nonexistent tourism industry. An amazing museum in Vilnius at the former KGB headquarter, containing excellent documentation and a self guided tour of holding cells, torture chambers and the like. There’s also some statue that is a major pilgrimage sight. I also stayed at a great hotel created by converting a convent, and I met a great group of retired teachers from Los Angeles, when I went to visit Grutas Parkas, the property of a wealthy mushroom cultivator who bought up all the communist era statues and created a park to display them – more on this in another post.

The Food: I hope you’re a love of sour cream…and meat. I don’t think “vegetarian” translates over there, and sour cream is an automatic accompaniment to everything. Great dumplings, called pelmeni in Latvia, and also a borsht like soup in Estonia. The beer was awesome.

Travel Details: I traveled all by bus, so there were some long overnight journeys, with lots of stops for border control and passport checks. I did however meet other solo travelers my age on these journeys, so it was always great to spend a few hours talking about our travels and offering up tips. I even let one weary backpacker use my hotel shower, while he had a quick stop in Vilnius before continuing onward. The other fun mode of travel are small mini bus/vans that cram as many people as possible with no a/c and the faint hope that you will arrive in your destination in one piece.

And Speaking of Brazil...

During the same trip I have to say that I was less than impressed with Rio de Janiero. While I did enjoy the enormous feat I ate at a beachside shack for 5 bucks, I wasn't so fond of walking in shit up to my knees.

Yes you read that right.

While out walking, a torrential downpour appeared (perhaps the craziest rain I have ever seen) and literally within 10 minutes the streets were flooded with water and all kinds of crap. As many know there are these hillside villages called favelas, which are basically rudimentary accommodations perched above the city. In the simplest terms they are slums, and are similar to what you would have seen in the movie City of God - great movie by the way. Well, most of these villages do not have running water or plumbing, so when it rains the garbage and other unsanitary items come running down the hills to the streets below, and the street drainage of Rio doesn't quite work fast enough.

Wading through the streets for 10 minutes was definitely not the most fun aspect of the trip, though it was one of the most memorable. This was only enhanced by my poor friend who had to go get his laundry and carry it back in the shit-filled streets. Poor thing.

My advice: take an umbrella and some rubber boots just in case.

I Could Fall Off The Face of The Earth...

When I went to Brazil a few years ago, my best friend and I traveled to a town called Ouro Preto. For those of you that have never heard of it, and I am guessing that's most of you, it's a pristine little town nestled in the mountains, about 200 miles north of Rio de Janiero. After a very uncomfortable overnight bus ride, we arrived in the early morning bleary-eyed, to an adorable town with some of the best architecture I'd seen in one place.

The city is a maze of hilly, cobble stoned streets, with hidden courtyards and terraces where you can sit down for a beer and a snack while watching the people go by. The most amazing aspect was the 15 or so churches spread out around town, most of them in the ornate Baroque style. Ouro Preto found it's fame - and fortune - in gold, and many of these churches have ridiculously intricate gold detailing on their interiors…and exteriors. It's a miracle that they haven't been pillaged over the years by people wanting to make a buck. After two days of wandering around town, we realized that our sightseeing options had been exhausted and we had yet another day to spend in the city before catching the overnight bus back to Rio. We inquired with the hotel management about a tour we might be able to take or some other sight worth seeing that we might have missed.

This was a feat in itself, since we only spoke Spanish, and though the lovely person at the desk said we could converse in Spanish, he kept responding to my questions in Portuguese. My Portuguese is pretty much non-existent, but I was able to piece together the gist of his sentences by understanding the few words that were close to Spanish.

He recommended that we go to the "Campo da Fazenda". Well, we know that basically means farm, and as far as we were able to understand it was a spa kind of place with hiking trails, waterfalls, a pool, and we would get lunch. He said it was 40 reais (about 10 bucks then), and they would pick us up at 9am and bring us back later in the day. We seriously had no idea what to expect.

So in the morning this little beat-up red car comes to pick us up and we have no way of communicating with the driver, but we get in the car with him and his buddy and head off. After 10 minutes of driving through the slightly creepy outskirts of town with hillside shacks, dodging farm animals along the road, we begin to look at each other and realize we have no idea where we are going, no one knows our whereabouts other than the hotel guy from the night before, and we could literally disappear at this moment and no one would even know where to begin looking for us. I could see the headlines - Americans go missing in mountains of Brazil. Dear God.

Then we pull into a driveway of sorts and we can see some buildings up a hill, so we get out of the car and start to walk up the hill, when the driver yells at us. It's pretty clear he wants us to stop and wait, so we do, and he and his friend leave. At this point we're wondering if we should start running in the other direction. I can see the blindfolds coming and the picture of me holding the day's paper asking for a ransom. Just when my nerves were starting to hit their stride this joyful women comes strolling over, shakes our hand and starts welcoming us to the "campo", in impeccable English.

She explains to us, that the grounds, which used to be a coffee plantation, are ours to peruse. She tells us there are some trails leading to waterfalls and outlooks of the mountains and ridges. She said lunch would be served at noon, and tea and snacks at 5, after which we would be driven back to Ouro Preto. She says we're the only ones using the grounds for the days so to make ourselves comfortable.

Off we go on some of the trails. Where we did in fact see some spectacular waterfalls, and stood on a cliff perched a good 1000 feet off the forest floor. Talk about getting weak in the knees. Lunch was a spectacular affair of Brazilian delicacies all freshly prepared for the two of us, and the campo staff. We spent the afternoon talking with the owner about the farm, which her father passed to her and her brother, neither of whom wanted to continue the coffee growing, so they turned it into a small bed and breakfast and place for visitors to come and relax for the day.

Hours later we had some tea and finger sandwiches, and wished we didn't have to go back. It was one of the most relaxing days I've ever spent on vacation, and it would be great to go back one day to see it all again.
The experience taught me an important lesson in being a spontaneous traveler. Yes, it very well could have ended up being a disaster in many capacities, but it wasn't. Sometimes the best travel experiences are off the beaten track, and are things you don't plan for, or even know about until your faced with it. Take chance and you'll be rewarded.

Word Asscociation International

I thought this would be a fun game to play with myself. I basically went through every foreign country I have been to adn wrote down the first word or words that came to mind. There are many anecdotes to accompany most, but I will save those long, mostly amusing stories for another time. Some are obvious, others might make absolutely no sense.

Andorra - Mountains
Aruba - Rock formations
Australia - The Harbour
Austria - Schonbrunn Palace
Bahamas - Customs
Barbados - Snorkeling
Belize - Mosquito bites
Belgium - Cherry Beer
Brazil - Fejoada
Canada - Ice Wine
Costa Rica - Blue crabs
Czech Republic - Castle Views
Cuba - Helado
Denmark - Tivoli
Estonia - Fur Coats
Finland - Flood
France - The Cave
Germany - Sausage
Guatemala - Ruins
Hungary - Turkish bath
Italy - Gelatto in San Marcos
Latvia - SOur Cream
Lithuania - Grutas Parkas
Luxembourg - Tunnels
Mexico - Palenque
Monaco - Gambling
Morocco - Mint tea
The Netherlands - Brown Cafes (not what you're thinking)
New Zealand - Rotoroura
Poland - Auschwitz
Portugal - Secret Terrace
St. Kitts - Deserted Beach
Slovak Republic - Train Station
Spain - The Alhambra
Sweden - Ferry ride
Switzerland - Chagall windows
Tunisia - Dougga Ruins
United Kingdon - Graduation Day
United States - Home
Venezuela - Barrio

I realized that a lot of my associations have to do with food. Hmmm...

Bathing Suit Please

You know it's true what they say about Brazilian bathing suits being virtually non-existent. In my time at Buzios and on the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema in Rio, I saw a lot of flimsy suits on both men and women. Now I've been to European beaches where the women go topless and the men haven't quite gotten the concept of board shorts yet, preferring the age-old speedo, but Brazil was an entirely different animal.

It was almost like a contest to see who could wear the least amount on the beach without actually being naked. For all intents and purposes they should have just been naked. Nothing was really left to the imagination anyway. And this goes for the men and women. And unfortunately it went for all shapes, sizes and ages. I am all for showing what you got and being proud of it, but I really don't need to see 80-year-old grandma and grandpa in g-strings.

More power to them for body security, and shame on me and my American modesty (is there such a thing in a country that gave the world "Girls Gone Wild"?), but it was a little much for me to handle. On the opposite end of the spectrum there were some seriously hot bodies flaunting their assets, which my gay travel companion seemed to rather enjoy. But then again he himself was wearing a Burberry speedo.

I might not be on the next flight out to Brazil anytime soon, but it has nothing to do with my misadventures in bathing suit fashion, but rather the shit (literally) I encountered in the street one nasty evening. Stay tuned…

Losing Things

In my brother's first trip across the ocean I had planned a two week whirlwind tour of Europe. He was meeting up with me in Paris after I had been traveling the continent for 2 weeks with a friend. We didn't plan a long stay in Paris because we were making a loop and were planning all the Paris sights at the end of the trip.

I find him passed out in the hotel when I get there and we have a quick dinner and get to bed to make our early train for Amsterdam. We take the Thalys to Brussels where we have to switch to another train headed for Amsterdam. We've navigated the station and found our new train without incident.

After settling in to our seats I hear him say "Oh shit" and he starts looking in all his pockets. This isn't something someone wants to hear from their traveling companion, so I ask what's wrong, and he says, "I think I left my passport on the other train". I'm of course thinking you have to be kidding me. I tell him to go back to the train and look (hoping it's still there after 10 minutes) and I start unloading our stuff off the train.

Now from my brother's account of things: He runs to the track where we came in and luckily the train is still there, but when he finds our seats there is no sign of the passport. He just happens to see a conductor and asks if they saw a passport. The conductor says no, but to check the lost and found. So he runs to the lost and found and sees and enormous line. Looking at the clock and realizing that our train is leaving in less than 5 minutes, so he just goes to the front and asks the person behind the glass if they have an American passport. She looks at something, looks at him and hands him the passport. In what world do things really work out that easily? It was his lucky freakin' day, but meanwhile he just perpetuated the idea that American's are cocky asses that do what they want.

With a minute to go I see him running down the platform and telling me to get back on the train. We jump on the train and it literally starts moving out of the station. Talk about cutting it close.

It would have been a real treat had he lost his passport a day after landing, well actually he did lose it momentarily. That really would have made the trip oh so great.

Top 3: Best Flights Ever

1. 2001 - Chicago to Hartford: I was going to visit my best friend in Connecticut for a weekend and was just settling when this guy approaches me and we have the following exchange:

Him: Excuse me, but you happen to be sitting next to an old friend of mine that I just bumped into here at the airport. Do you mind switching seats with me?

Me: Of course not, where are you sitting?

Him: 1A, thank you so much

Me: Not a problem. Enjoy catching up with your friend.

We trade tickets and I make my way up to first class. I plop myself down in my new, lush seat and take in the 1st class sights. Soon after take off I have the most memorable plane meal ever. Fresh baked muffins, a mimosa, eggs any way I wanted them. I wish I could travel like this always. I had the might to even steal the individual size salt and pepper shakers but I restrained myself.

2. 2001 - Los Angeles to Sydney, Australia: You'd think that the longest flight I've ever been on would be far from one of my best flight experiences, but you'd be so very wrong. Besides the fact that the airline I flew is the best ever, all 14 hours of this flight I'd do again in a heart beat. First of all I was given an exit row seat next to the window, and the middle seat was free. The flight attendant comes to me before take-off and politely asks if I would mind switching seats with someone a few rows back with a stiff leg. I don't think too hard about my decision because I know my short self doesn't really need all that leg room. The flight attendant tells me she is grateful for my generosity and says she'll do all she can to make sure I have a great flight.

Well, she told be no lie. Once I had gathered my things and was on my way to my new seat I realize she gave me an entire row to myself. I settled in and she brought me a cocktail. Even better. Then we take-off and after another cocktail and a bottle of wine with dinner I layout on my row and fall asleep for a good 5 hours, until another round of food and drinks is brought to me, as well as a water bottle to myself. I arrived in Sydney well rested and ready to take on Australia, rather than exhausted and delirious. Service goes a long way in my book, but I guess so does being a nice person on in a while.

3. 1998 - Washington D.C. to London: The best thing about this was the sheer amenities on board. I hadn't flown across the Atlantic since my trip to Finland and that was a couple of years earlier and was with a group. This time I was on my own, I was 19 and on my way to London for the first time. I get one the plane and there's a little gift pack on my seat, with socks, toothbrush and paste, sleep/eye mask and various other travel goodies. Then I settle into my seat and see the magnificent entertainment center on the chair back in front of me. I had a host of movies to choose from and could watch them according to my own schedule, plus I could opt to play video games. What made this great flight even better was the booze. A cocktail, then wine with dinner, the some Bailey's then all over a gain a few hours later. It was the first time I experienced the international flight liquor policy and I was loving it. I didn't love so much finding my way into London at 9 in the morning, while arguable drunk. I only wish the flight would have been longer to take more advantage.

Honorable mention: 2002 - Burbank, CA to Oakland CA: The flight attendants were what made this flight truly memorable. They gave their pre-take off lecture in versus, then as the flight was in slanted take-off mode they launched peanut bags down the aisle for people to take as they pleased and pass on to others. Once safely in the air they passed around a hat and people could donate $1 to a pool. They picked random seats to win the pot. It was a short flight, but sweet.