A Hamburger would be nice right about now…

The next stop on the road is Hamburg. After a city as rich in recent history as Berlin, Hamburg is like taking a break from history lessons. While it is a historic city, Hamburg is not as tourist centric as Berlin and there are fewer recognisable reminders of historic events. I arrived in Hamburg by train, and upon arrival was extremely happy with my preparation before departing Berlin. Finding your hostel in a big city can be a challenge, but printed map in hand, as well as the nearest S-Bahn (yes, they have those here too) station written down, I was much better prepared than my rather stupid arrival in Berlin. I arrived at the very stylish Meninger Hotel (that’s right, hotel) with ease and after a lengthy wait to check in, settled into my room and acquainted myself with some maps of the area. The hotel caters to both hotel and hostel guests, both enjoying the comfortable lobby and lounge, and free internet. It was impeccably clean and everything seemed well managed. I went around the corner to a grocery store and picked up $21 worth of groceries, which I am proud to say lasted me three days, lunch and dinner. It turns out Hamburg is much like Berlin when it comes to food and pricing. Ethnic delicacies such as donner kebabs are common, but a little more expensive. Hotdogs/sausages are a little more popular, and fries start to make a serious appearance in local food joints.  Prices are similarly low, especially on beer, where €0.60 will get you a large bottle of a good brew from the grocery store. I made myself a delicious plate of spaghetti (the first of three) and planned my next two days in Hamburg before a restful night of sleep. I suppose I should mention that this day was November 3^rd, which happens to be my birthday. To celebrate, I really didn’t do anything at all. Oh well, it’s just another day really.

Wednesday the 4^th, I tourist-ed things up a bit, walking downtown and taking the sightseeing bus around town. My first tourist bus out of an English speaking country, I expected a tour guide to speak in German while audio tracks accessible by headphones rattled off other common languages. I wasn’t disappointed except by the quantity and quality of information I received. While the tour guide rambled on and on, I was treated to rare tid-bits of information, interspersed with terrible (or rather terribly corny) selections of music supposed to go along with the surroundings. Determined to see more than the bus (not worth it in my opinion) showed me, I departed by foot to explore more on my own. I wandered east to the new development of HafenCity. Meaning ‘port city’ or ‘harbour city’ it is currently the biggest single construction project in Europe, intending to create a whole new city within Hamburg. Built on old port land, the port was torn down with the formation of the EU as international shipping became slightly less important to Hamburg. Residences are being built for over 7000, and work places for over 40,000. Also in the works is an expansion to Hamburg University, and a new Opera/Concert Hall, which is supposed to be so architecturally distinct, it will be Hamburg’s Sydney Opera Theatre. Completion of the whole project varies by section, some already finished, some not done until around 2025. All buildings in the new development must be done in a modern style, points given (although no real points are given, I know...a real shame) for tributes to Hamburg’s oceanic history. I only hope that like so many developments in the past, Hamburgers (not kidding, that’s what someone from Hamburg is called) don’t look at HafenCity in 40 years and think “what the hell were we thinking?” Continuing east, past the areas where HafenCity will occupy in the decades to come, I eventually reached the docking facilities for U-434. Built by the Soviets in 1976, she was in active service until 2000 when bought by a group of Germans, and put on display in Hamburg as a museum ship. Total cost for the submarine and transport? €2m. Hitting it in the off season, late in the afternoon, I got a personal tour for €9, walking all throughout the boat. The sub is in excellent condition, and I appreciate the fact that the restorers respect naval tradition with small superstitions. To this day, the captain’s cabin is still locked, because as the tradition goes, when the captain locks his door and leaves the ship, only the captain unlocks his door again. A nice touch at least. I would recommend this to any naval fanatic, because while U-434 was never involved in any significant historical events, it was an active vessel in the Soviet Navy during the Cold War, and was inhabited by a crew of 78 for 24 years. My “that was cool” fulfilled for the day, I headed back to the hostel by U-Bahn, stopping off at the grocery store for a beer (call it a belated birthday gift for myself).

After having seen much of the city, but not knowing what much of it is (no thanks to the sightseeing bus) the next day I got to the city centre in time to catch the NewEurope free tour of the city. We were guided around the city, learning plenty about the sights I was curious about, from the historic city centre, to HafenCity. As always, NewEurope came through and for free (plus a tip of course) the tour was definitely worth it! I walked back to the hostel, making a point to venture through Reeperbahn. Reeperbahn is a notorious street in Hamburg’s St. Pauli district where the red lights glow all night, and the pleasures of the flesh are well advertised. Come night time however, the most common sight is the police who are standing on almost every corner, keeping the district safe. The police presence has definitely kept this area clean, and rather than some cities’ scummy red lights, Reeperbahn is clean and safe. So safe in fact, it is advertised by the tourist bureau as one of the city’s sights to see when visiting!

This was pretty much the end of my time in Hamburg. It was short, just a couple days, but I got a lot into the abbreviated visit. It’s hard to see a large city like Hamburg in two days, but you can certainly get a taste of it. It is Europe’s second biggest port after Rotterdam, and has a long history of business in the city. Hamburgers (don’t laugh, even though I am) are very businesslike and Hamburg is still an important business centre for Germany. As part of the British sector of Germany post WWII, it continued to prosper within the Western world, and visual reminders of this barely interrupted prosperity are plentiful within the city. Hamburg was not untouched in WWII however, the victim of a major allied bombing campaign codenamed Gomorrah (should give you some idea of the destruction intended) Hamburg still shows scars of the battle, kept as a reminder of the horror of war. I enjoyed wandering through Hamburg, seeing how city planners are mixing the old with the new, but it was extremely enlightening to take a tour to actually understand the significance of what you are seeing. While not a major stop on my trip, it was highly enjoyable and a place I would be most curious to visit 10-15 years down the road to see how its radical construction program has changed the face of the city.

But enough of the big cities! It’s time to go somewhere smaller, somewhere a little more charming. It’s time for Kiel, Germany. A city on the Baltic Sea, its economy and history is based largely on its biggest feature, it’s harbour. It is also built at the mouth of the Kiel Canal which bridges the Baltic and North Seas, also the busiest artificial waterway in the world. Home to wonderful sailing festivals in summer, I decided a local might better navigate me around the city in the fall, and I met Burkhard and Katrin through CouchSurfing. A local couple, they both study languages (esp. English) in university, making communication a breeze. They welcomed me at the train station, taking me back to their lovely apartment somewhat out of the city centre. After getting to know each other, we got right to sightseeing, heading to a place called Laboe. Kiel is located on the West side of the harbour, with a frequent ferry service crossing the harbour in summer to Laboe in the North East, but in the off season you are in a situation much like that of the Halifax Harbour. The only alternative (with no bridges, and no ferries running) is a bus which takes around 40 minutes. Laboe is a popular summer tourist destination, with lovely beaches and shacks catering to the needs of tourists on a beach. In the off season it still has the monument to sailors lost at sea, and (most impressively), U-995, the only remaining type VII U-boat from WWII. We took the stairs to the top of the impressively high memorial, enjoying the view of the surrounding area, only to discover we could have taken an elevator to the top of the 80+m tall building. Yay stairs. Visiting the U-boat, I was surprised how much smaller it was than U-434 I had visited a few days before. A film was being filmed inside at the same time we were visiting so we were hurried through one particular section while filming halted for us. We must be very special (or an annoyance)! Burkhard and Katrin had visited the memorial before, but never been inside the boat, so it was a new experience to all. Heading back into the city, I made my own way back to their house while they had a prior engagement. I relaxed for a bit, before heading down the street to meet with Katrin’s brother and his girlfriend. They were having a board game night with a few other friends, and welcomed me warmly into their club. I learned a new (and intensely complex) board game, had a drink, and enjoyed getting to know these people.

The next day we had planned a trip to the beautiful town of Schleswig. A fishing port, it was a charming little town I was glad to see, and glad to have a local showing me around. We got there by train, meeting another of their friends along the way, and were picked up at the train station by Katrin’s mother who lives in Schleswig. I was shown the cathedral, the charming little fishing village, and then we met Katrin’s mother at a local restaurant for some good local cuisine. Daring me to attempt the Senatorpfanne (Senator Pan), I accepted the challenge not knowing what was to come. Served in a sizzling skillet, a full ensemble of vegetables form the bed for a generous steak, pork chop, piece of chicken (I believe) and creamed mushrooms. The portion was huge, and I valiantly dove in, managing  (somehow) to finish it completely. I was informed mid way through it was a plate usually shared, but my macho manliness wouldn’t let me give up of course. After enjoying coffee with a view at Schleswig’s tallest building, we headed back to Kiel by train and hung out at the apartment to play more board games (I could really get into this whole board game playing thing!) before bed.

The next day (let’s see...it’s Sunday the 8^th at this point) was mine to explore Kiel. Not having seen the actual city yet, I was looking forward to see what could be if I were here four months earlier. The city really would be beautiful in the summer, a harbour full of small sailing vessels, pedestrian streets lined with stalls. Unfortunately, most of this was closed, and the Christmas market was only then being set up. Despite the lack of touristy sights, Kiel is home to a good deal of maritime history, and is a valuable asset for Germany. It is home to Germany’s main naval base, as well as truly gigantic ship building/maintenance facilities including the production facilities for Germany’s well known submarines. I visited the maritime museum which was luckily only €1.50 for student, because the “half English displays” I was told about by the lady at the door turned out to be nonexistent.  While I flexed my comprehension muscles, trying to work my way through German text (keep in mind I speak and read NO German), I enjoyed the displays, the historic relics from ages past, and wonderful paintings of life at sea and in port. Lack of English aside, it was worth it to get a peek into Baltic seagoing history. Starting to get dark, I enjoyed some typically good German pastry on the way back to the apartment. The three of us enjoyed chatting the evening away over tea and biscuits, sharing stories from each of our adventures.

In Kiel I was very glad to have stayed with locals, as they were able to show me a side of the area I would never have thought to have seen. On my own I would have been bored with the city which is essentially shut down for tourism at this point in the year. Burkhard and Katrin were excellent to me with warm hospitality, great conversation and amazing stories. I have never met a European who has canoed through the Yukon! I haven’t even canoed through the Yukon! I hope to meet them again at some point for sure. Kiel marks the end of my stay in what I deem the “Northern” half of my exploration in Germany. I depart for the more Western parts of Europe to return in early December to explore the “South”, including Bavaria.

"Ich bin ein Berliner."

Off to a good start in Berlin, I continued sightseeing on what was now October 31^st, Halloween! . Finding a winter market starting close to Brandenburg Gate, I treated myself to a nutritious breakfast of a crepe with Nutella and Kinder Chocolate baked into it. Ok, not so nutritious, but defninitely delicious! While I have affectionate memories of KinderEggs from my childhood, “KinderChocolate” is a lot bigger here in Europe. “Kinder” or some close variation means child in many European languages, making it essentially chocolate for kids. Good thing I’m just a big kid at heart! “Breakfast” done with, I headed to Pariser Platz in front of Brandenburg Gate to meet with another NewEurope tour. After hooking you with their free (but tipped) tours, you can take any of their paid tours, this one on “Red Berlin”. Examining Berlin post WWII, the tour headed to many important sights in Berlin, requiring an all day pass on public transport and making good use of it. Our tour guide took us to the only intact section of the Berlin wall death strip, a subway station that was previously blocked off to prevent escape from East Berlin, and the bridge on which captured spies were exchanged; amongst others. It was worth the €10 + €6.50 for public transport, especially since the 3 hour tour ended up stretching out to over 4 hours. After picking up a donner kebab on the way to the hostel, I got ready to meet Alexander, the nephew of a friend back home to enjoy an evening like a local. Meeting in a pub, we downed a beer before heading off to his friend’s Halloween party. Halloween isn’t a big deal in Germany; in fact it didn’t even exist until about 15(?) years ago in much of Europe. Kids are now revelling in the chance to go out and get free candy from neighbours, however it is still catching on, and most families do not celebrate it. Certainly most don’t go to the great lengths many do at home to decorate (Genevieve?). Alexander’s friend is married to an American lady, so she tries to get things going in Germany with an annual Halloween party. Here I got a chance to meet with some locals, have some great discussions, sample some great snacks, and good beer. I was immediately drawn to the table of candy, and probably enjoyed a little too much of it. All in all, a pretty unhealthy day, but it was enjoyed thoroughly; one of the highlights of my visit to Berlin.

The next morning, feeling a bit wiped from the night of partying, and a teensy hung over in the morning, I slept late and stayed in bed most of the day, escaping only to get supper. It was a great way to spend a Sunday, getting some writing done, keeping in touch with people, and being as lazy as possible.

Feeling a teensy bit guilty of sloth, I kicked myself out of bed at a reasonable time on Monday morning, getting some good walking in, seeing the sights, and finally doing some sightseeing in the former West Berlin. Each side of the formerly divided Berlin offers its own distinct sights, but the East tends to be more exciting. We all know how western culture goes, but how often do you get to see a city formerly under the control of a Soviet regime? In the west, I visited the tremendously well done Story of Berlin. While many come to Berlin for its recent history, I must say it is refreshing to see a museum not completely focused on the last 70 years. After all, there ARE a couple millennia of activity in the area of what is now Berlin! The Story of Berlin traces Berlin all the way through recorded history, making good use of multimedia displays and interactivity. Rooms are themed to their topic, for example a room on industrialism with a booming bass imitating the sounds of a factory in full swing, with conveyer belts of information panels continually travelling the length of the room. The museum traces the history of Berlin up until the 1930’s on the top floor, while all history since is covered in the basement. The exhibit designers took this opportunity to make a statement about Germany’s ‘descent’ into Nazism as you descend the stairs. On each subsequent platform, an information panel describes a period leading up to the war, with portraits of government officials. On the top floor you see a relatively happy looking bunch, with only slight whispers of the emerging National Socialism. By the bottom floor, you are presented with intimidating portraits of stern faced, uniformed, government officials, and the full implementation of Nazi rule. This was one of the most powerful exhibits in the museum, the physical act of descending down stairs a reminder of the modern perception of National Socialism in German popular culture. After breezing through the Cold War section (haven’t we all learned enough by now?) I returned to the lobby for the most exciting part of the visit. Next door to the exhibition centre, and a good ways underground, is one of the 15 (don’t quote me on that, it’s been a while since I was on the tour) nuclear bunkers built by the West in Berlin during the Cold War. Part of an underground parking garage complex, it was never seriously meant for nuclear protection as it was actually used to park cars in the majority of the time. Even during the height of the nuclear threat, it housed parked cars, only being prepared for action when it was built, and when it was restored for exhibition. With some 2000 bunks, a surgery, cooking facilities, its own power generation station, and more; it was its own self contained city. Unfortunately it was only self sustaining for two weeks, after which members would have to venture out of the bunker for supplies including water, fuel, food, medical supplies, and anything else needed for sustained life underground. Visiting the bunker demonstrates how unprepared everyone was for nuclear warfare. Luckily it never happened, and you too can visit this wonderful historic site. In fact, I heartily recommend this museum to any visitor of Berlin, especially as a first stop to put everything in perspective. At €8 it is average (student price), and one can spend over three hours no problem exploring the multimedia rich exhibits. After this highlight of my trip, I went to the slightly smaller (or so I heard) DDR Museum. As it turns out, the DDR Museum is really just a large room tightly packed with exhibits on life in the days of the Deutsche Demokratische Republik (German Democratic Republic). At €3.5, the museum was a good way to learn about day to day life in East Germany, and while unimpressive at first, it requires a close look to be fully enjoyed. Definitely enjoy a comfy seat and take in the propaganda video from the late 70’s on the amazing progress of Socialist building projects in East Germany, safely and comfortably housing all good Socialists. This was also my only opportunity to sit in a Trabant, an East German car made throughout the Cold War, no longer in production but a hot collector’s item.

All in all, it was a good last day to my time in Berlin. It was an excellent visit to the city I had always wanted to visit, and which for the most part met my expectations. The city is bustling with construction and new businesses, enjoying a relatively strong economy for the times. I didn’t expect everything to be so cheap here, but from food to drinks, prices were consistently low, a welcome relief for a low budget backpacker. Berliners seemed to be happy people, but for the most part tourists don’t get much chance to interact with locals as they are busy going about their own business. Transit in Berlin is terrific, tickets gaining you simultaneous access to the trains, trams, and busses. Tickets are rarely checked, but I would certainly not recommend going ticketless. The transit police are gruff, unfriendly to tourists, and generally don’t speak English. I had a run in myself with the authorities, as I was caught on my way to Alexanderplatz with the wrong ticket. I was under the impression that a “short ticket” was good for 30 minutes, while a regular ticket was good for an hour. The problem is that while the ticket computers are available in English as well as German and other common languages, none of the fares are explained, leaving you to interpret their validity for yourself. The authorities do not charge onto the train in uniform with ID held high, rather they walk on in street clothes, remaining anonymous until the doors are closed. Once trapped, the ID’s come out, and they go about checking as many tickets before they reach the next station. For some reason (maybe it’s the Canadian flag on the backpack) one made a b-line for me, requesting to see my ticket (I think, I’m still not sure as I don’t speak German, and he didn’t speak English). Talking at me for a bit, he took me by the arm and led me off at the next station. With every English word he spoke (approximately three) he explained to me I had the wrong ticket (“No, wrong ticket”). The ticket went in his pocket, and he requested ID. Handing over my driver’s license, he examined it for a while, writing down details in his handheld computer, before handing over a sheet of paper, also entirely in German. Confused, at the wrong station, and now ticketless, I tried my best interpreting the writing on the sheet. I walked the rest of the way to Alexanderplatz and at the tourist office had them explain what happened. The helpful lady explained that a short ticket is only good for 3 train stops and I was now the proud owner of a transit violation fine. The good news is that I didn’t have to pay any fines on the spot, and apparently the ticket will be sent to my house in Canada. Somehow I doubt it will ever make it, but maybe I’m wrong. Any fines in the mail yet Mom? Luckily, I got off easy here; I have heard horror stories of scams with the transit authorities and much rougher treatment. I guess I must have smiled the right way. Aside from this little bump in the road, my trip to Berlin was excellent with lots of touristy sightseeing , an unforgettable experience with some locals, and all made even better by a clean and well run hostel. I’m glad to say that Berlin was exactly what I hoped it would be.

With Berlin behind me, it’s off to Hamburg to see some of Germany’s naval history.

Enter the Millennium City

Leaving Copenhagen on October 27^th, I took a bus/ferry/bus service to Berlin. Considering the distance, at €40 it was reasonably priced. Ali and I said our goodbyes at the bus stop and I boarded a greyhound bus. Stinky and uncomfortable, it was from this bus I got my first (and last) glimpse of the Danish countryside with its fields of wind turbines, stretching as far as the eye can see. We all transferred to a ferry, the bus – thankfully – staying behind. The ferry ride was comfortable, and offered terrific views of the fields of wind turbines Denmark has set up off its coast, again stretching past the horizon. On the German side, we boarded a wonderfully modern bus with two storeys. Acting quickly I claimed the front seat on the upper level and had a wonderful time pretending I was the driver! But in all seriousness, it’s disconcerting to be in the front of a vehicle, on the left side, with no controls for the vehicle. A peak down the stairs to check that there was indeed a driver was quite comforting. All in all it was an uneventful ride, but only a few days after the time change (forward an hour) it was getting dark quickly on the way to Berlin. By the time the bus dropped its entire load somewhere in Berlin, it was completely d ark, and I was completely lost. I had the street address of my hostel, I knew it was somewhere east, but had no clue where I was in relation to it or even where to find this street (an address only does you any good if you know where to find the street in the first place). I put myself at the mercy of a  ticket sales agent at the train station who spoke English extremely well, and had a computer with internet (and some free time and a helpful attitude helped as well). She provided me with city maps, and a map of the U-Bahn/S-Bahn (Underground/aboveground station, Berlin’s rail network) network. Knowing the general location of my hostel, I set off on the U-Bahn to the station nearest my hostel. Unfortunately, the map I was provided didn’t extend this far east, and I was once again lost. I only had a very general idea where my hostel was, and after 15 minutes of fruitless searching, I capitulated and paid €0.50 for 10 minutes internet time at an internet cafe. Now with hand drawn map in hand, I arrived at my hostel, probably some 1.5 hours after arriving in Berlin. During this extremely confusing ordeal, I swore I would never go to a city again without thoroughly investigating WHERE I would be dropped off, and HOW to get anywhere else. It didn’t help that I was now in a country where far fewer people speak English, no signage is in English, and it’s assumed you know the U-Bahn/S-Bahn‘s ticketing system. It turns out (and would have been good to know beforehand) that the bus dropped us off as far west as one can imagine in the city of Berlin, when my hostel was over 7km to the EAST of the city centre. Good to know indeed... Very relieved to be somewhere safe, I checked into the very clean and well kept “U-Inn Berlin” (whomever is responsible for that name should be beaten). Planning on a week’s stay, I checked in for three nights in case it turned out to be a dump. At an average of €14 per night, it was well priced and a sign of things to come in Berlin. Next priority is of course food, and the receptionist recommended the ethnic food down the street, back towards Frankfurter Allee U-Bahn/S-Bahn station. The Dönner Kebap (essentially a Donair without the sauce) is a relatively healthy and extremely cheap way to eat. For €3 ($4.75) you get the large version which is stuffed with meat, lettuce, tomato, cucumber, cabbage, and as many sauces as you want, all served in wholemeal pita. It would turn out to be a staple of my sustenance in Berlin. I settled into my bunk, the world’s shortest bottom bunk, and enjoyed the free internet that reached the room. Luckily the next morning I was able to grab a single bed in the same room as it became unoccupied, no bunk involved, just a bed.

The next day was my first chance to see the city I had always dreamt of seeing. Figuring my hostel to be within close enough walking distance, I planned on an hour’s walk to city centre. I would then meet up with a NewEurope tour through Berlin and thus my day would be complete. Oh plans, how they so often go awry. The walk into the city was a little further than I had planned for, and after getting turned around in the busy downtown, I ended up just barely late for the tour, but oddly no one was to be found in the vicinity of the start location. Fully unfolding the map, I realized I was in completely the wrong location. Due to some map folding issues, I found myself where a different tour started on another day. Oops! Trying to salvage the day, I wandered through some of the city, getting intentionally lost but not seeing any impressive sights, only managing to completely tire myself. One of the facts of travel I have realized is that the longer you are on the road, the more easily you tire day by day. After a time, it becomes impossible (or at least not enjoyable) to force yourself to do anything at all and it feels good just to spend an entire day just doing nothing. Back at the hostel I cleaned up and walked a couple blocks to do some overpriced laundry and enjoy some more of a book. Settling in for the night a little early, I enjoyed some time to relax and ponder my time in Berlin.

The next day was the beginning of my true sightseeing in Berlin. Better rested, knowing the true distance into the city, and better prepared, I set off by U-Bahn to city centre. I successfully met up with the NewEurope tour and spent until late afternoon learning about Berlin’s history, buildings of significance, and notable people. The tour was focused mainly on the visible history of Berlin, covering the post WWII era in great detail. “But why is post WWII the most visible period in Berlin’s history” you’re probably (or not) asking. Subject to years of bombing by the Allied forces during WWII, only a third of Berlin was left standing, mostly the suburbs outside of city centre. I’m trying to figure out how to write about the things I learned/saw on the tour, but presently the Blarney stone is failing me. For anyone curious about the sights in Berlin, the best solution would be to check out my photo website at http://www.picasaweb.com/fosterd3. There you can see photos of lots of cool things (my god...I just wrote “cool things”...I think I have to go hurt myself for the hurt I have caused the English language) I saw in Berlin. While many European cities have a rich history that spans centuries past, part of the wonder of Berlin is the richness of its recent history. While the replicated buildings from before the war have their stories to tell, some of the newer buildings have managed in half a century to write entire textbooks in the pages of history. Having seen the city from the streets, I decided to take in the sights from a little higher up. The Reichstag building (or commonly referred to as the Reichstag) was built in 1894 to house the Reichstag (German for Imperial Assembly), fulfilling its purpose until 1933 when a little road bump in German history threw out the democratic process. Only the dome was destroyed in WWII, and sitting on the western side of Berlin (barely) it survived demolition by the Soviets. Architect Sir Norman Foster (a good name if I do say so myself) was hired in the late 90’s to redesign the dome and general interior layout. The result is the modern Reichstag building, a modern masterpiece with a glass dome, giant mirror assembly to light the parliament floor. The dome is open to the public (those who are willing to be subject to the intense security) and offers views into the parliament chamber, and over the city outside. The dome was designed so that the public could look down upon the assembled parliament, always a reminder to the politicians to whom they answer. At a price of free, it’s impossible to beat the Reichstag for a view of the city. Having seen the city from the street and above, I enjoyed my absolute favourite thing about Berlin, everything’s cheap! I went for supper at the Wok Box and for €3 I had myself a lovely box of noodles. On my way back to the hostel, I stopped in to a corner store and picked up a generously sized bottle of beer for €0.75, officially making this my cheapest destination so far for booze. Hallelujah! I do enjoy a beer before bed!

The next day (the 30^th), I decided to visit one of Berlin’s more sombre attractions, the Denkmal für die ermordeten Juden Europas (for the non German speakers, the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe). Designed by Jewish American Peter Eisenman, 2711 concrete stelae occupy 4.7 acres just down the road from Brandenburger Tor. Varying interpretations exist for the design of the memorial, but it stands as a very stark reminder to the dark history of the National Socialist regime in a very central location in the city. Under the field of stelae is an interpretation centre devoted entirely to the history and victims of the holocaust. Eisenman thought that many memorials to the holocaust remembered it as a mass murder, whereas he felt it should also be remembered by the personal tragedies. Telling the stories of individuals, their families, and friends, the information centre hits hard, and evokes very strong emotions from all who visit. Seats line the exhibition, always occupied regardless of age, by people trying to comprehend the scale of the murder, the tragedy of the whole event, and the devastation wrought on individuals. I myself was brought to tears by a couple of the exhibits, especially in the room of letters where letters from victims of persecution, eviction, deportation, and those about to be murdered are on display. One letter in particular, from an 11 year old girl congregated with hundreds of others, waiting their turn to be murdered at the edge of a mass burial pit. In it she told her father how she wished to live, but that they wouldn’t let her, and told him how she loved him so. The centre is emotionally powerful, highly educational, and like many museums in Germany, free. An audio guide with personal stories from holocaust survivors is available to students at only €1.50, and is well worth it. The entire centre is well designed, well kept, and well secured. Speaking of security, there is no place with more security than in Berlin. Anything to do whatsoever with Jewish history, memory, or worship is guarded heavily. My first run in with this was walking by a small synagogue which was guarded by two pacing, very dour looking police, armed with submachine guns. The memorial itself is secured with airport style security, where your bags are run through x-ray, you walk through a metal detector, and are patted down. Unlike airport security where some loose change in your pocket won’t set off any alarms, I removed my belt, everything from my pockets, and I still set off the alarm. Turns out it was the button on my jeans. The Reichstag (which I visited later) included the same security measures, with the added measure of double security doors. This is a system where upon entering the building in a group of 30 or so, the next door won’t open until the door behind you is closed and electronically locked. Even then, the security guards/police behind very thick glass have the ability to keep you between doors indefinitely. Embassies are guarded by the same heavily armed police, although this changes depending on threat level. The week I was visiting there had been a threat called in, so the guard details on the British, Russian, French, and American embassies were stepped up to 6 officers with submachine guns. Extremely intimidating, these are not the kinds of police you want to ask for directions. Oddly  enough, the Canadian embassy (closed at 6PM with no night porter I discovered while curiously investigating) receives no security from the police. While most embassies’ bollards are distanced at least 30ft away (presumably to protect against bomb blasts), the Canadian embassy’s bollards were positioned pretty much at the front door, only preventing someone from taking the ‘drive thru’ option. I guess no one hates us that much!

Leaving the memorial in the black of the very early evening, I had dinner at a cute oriental place before wandering around town to see Berlin by night for the first time. I caught the U-Bahn to the most expensive attraction I would see in Berlin. Arriving at the Blue Max Theatre, I was absolutely bubbling with excitement for seeing the Blue Man Group, and boy, they do not disappoint! It is the same show routine other groups under the same name perform in other cities, but this time in German! While some of the humour is lost on the English speaking tourist, most is translated, and during most of the show there is no talking involved as BMG is all about percussion and music. I thoroughly enjoyed the performance, even afterwards when I wrote into my budget the €35 I paid for HALF PRICE tickets.

All in all, this was an excellent start to seeing Berlin. The city is vibrant, diverse, and fortunately very cheap! I was never sure when I arrived how long I would spend here, but I hoped I could fill a week sufficiently. Turns out, Berlin exhausted me, and I gladly booked more time at the hostel so that I could take a break, and further explore Berlin.

The Little Mermaid’s Foggy City

 
Alrighty then, the mighty catch-up continues! Last was Ireland, a destination which could have done with a car. Next is a destination where you would look silly in one! Copenhagen is my one Scandinavian stop and I made it four nights in the hopes of seeing as much as possible. I am lucky to have a friend in Copenhagen who was dedicated to making sure I had the best stay possible. Arriving at Københavns Lufthavn (Copenhagen Airport) in the early afternoon, I was met by a (somewhat unexpected) greeting party of my friend Ali, his father, and sister. Taking the quick and efficient public transit, they showed me to an apartment they had booked on my behalf for the duration of my stay.  Even less than a hostel (especially those in Copenhagen which start around €28) I had a private room, bathroom, and very mini kitchenette. By some fluke, a neighbour had open wireless internet so that was included as well! Ali and his family had a wedding reception to attend that evening, so I was left on my own to do what I saw fit. The lovely weather of Copenhagen rearing its rainy self was a convenient excuse for me to stay in all evening, catch up on sleep, and get in touch with friends. Before I move on however, I must comment on the Copenhagen mass transit. They have two levels (that I personally observed/used) of railway, an older under/above ground rail network, and a new under/above rail network. Each has different routes, but the new ones have the very eerie difference of being driverless. It isn’t all that odd in a day when planes completely fly themselves from takeoff to landing, but is still a little disconcerting being at the front of the train where the driver SHOULD be, watching fast approaching rail and stations, the train waiting until dangerously last minute to brake. Not for the faint of heart, sit at the back.

After a very restful night of sleep, I was awoken by knocking at my door at the extremely lazy hour of 10AM. It was Ali with breakfast and sandwiches for me. After admitting how little I knew about Copenhagen, I was tasked with searching online for sights I would like to see. We walked through the lovely city of Copenhagen around noon, making our way to the river where we took a cruise to get acquainted with the city from the water. Like all of Europe at the moment Copenhagen is going through some autumn related weather issues, universally meaning cold and wet. We braved each of these and stayed outside on the river cruise, taking in the guide’s alternating German and English commentary. Copenhagen has a dynamic and modern waterfront, from a sparkly new opera house, to high rent apartments made from a former torpedo boat repair facility. Like many cities, it was founded because of its strategic location for trading by water, and the effects of this are evident from its oldest warehouses to its newest glass and concrete giants. While travelling through the city it can be easy to confuse this wide long body of water with being a river (I made that mistake myself), but it is in fact a strip of tidal oceanic water completely separating the South East part of Copenhagen from the mainland. An intricate layout of canals runs through the city, facilitating the mooring of many pleasure craft, and if careful, the navigation of the tour boat through the heart of the city. Once you step away from the canals though, the city becomes remarkably similar block to block. The same building plan seems to have been used city wide, calling for five storey tall buildings, of similar width, and extremely similar design. This doesn’t have the expected effect of boring monotony, but a charm special to Copenhagen where the architectural interest is not in shape, but in the small details. After our tour, we took our very cold selves back to the apartments, and said goodbye until supper when I was invited to Ali’s for. The supper was delicious (first home cooked meal since I left my own home) and the company even better. I enjoyed getting to know his family and get a small glimpse of the culture they come from, his mother and father having emigrated from the Sudan. We planned the next day and I returned to my apartment quite stuffed.

The next day promised to be a lot of fun, starting with Vor Frelsers Kirke  (The Church of Our Saviour), famous for its towering spire offering panoramic views of Copenhagen. Heading out with Ali and his younger brother Omer, we got to the church, and climbed to the very top, excited for the scenic vista that drew us to the top. Well, again the weather spited the off season tourist, and threw up a fog blanket too thick to see far from the base of the church, but not defeated, we enjoyed the fresh air from above the sounds of the city below, and made it to the very top of the spire on its exterior staircase. From the church we wandered across town on foot, getting only mildly lost, eventually reaching the Kastellet (Citadel) to meet another of my Danish friends. Celebrating several hundred years of use, an all day concert was staged featuring various bands from the military and others from the civilian side. My friend Mikkel was playing with one of the bands he volunteers in. All three of us met at Tattoo 2009 when their band, the Copenhagen Police Band visited Tattoo. Ali and I watched and enjoyed the music, some of it familiar to me, while Mikkel did all the work. Poor Mikkel. After the concert I was invited back to Mikkel’s house, in what could be called the suburbs of Copenhagen. Driving back, I got the chance to meet Mikkel’s parents and learn more about Copenhagen’s history, and some interesting things about its present. I also got to hear about his parent’s recent trip through Nova Scotia while Mikkel was in Tattoo, and their subsequent trip across Canada afterwards. They gave me their impressions on NS and Canada, and also made it quite clear that it (unfortunately) rained quite a lot while they were there. Arriving in the suburbs, I was surprised to see how different it felt from in the city. North American looking bungalows stretched from one end of the street to the other, unimposing and modern. Mikkel’s mom kept us well fed with chips and other snacks while Mikkel introduced me to the Danish Comedy trip Olsen-banden (The Olsen Gang) who I assure you are in NO way associated with the Olsen twins. His parents also delighted in showing me all of the pictures from Mikkel’s youth of him dressed in his uniform for Tivoli Gardens Marching Band, where he has been a member of the band since he was a wee child. I am relatively sure Mikkel almost rolled his eyes right out of his head during this exposé; don’t we all just love our childhood photos? Taking the train back to Copenhagen, I was met by Ali and we went back to his apartment where I met some of his family who were visiting for the wedding.

The next day was my own to discover Copenhagen. While Ali attended classes, I wandered the city, seeing some things I had missed before, enjoying strolling down Europe’s longest pedestrian street, and getting a feel for the local culture without a convenient translator. Language is not an issue in Copenhagen, while many Copenhageners speak English fluently; the rest understand at least enough to get through simple transactions and inquiries.  Danish is the mainly spoken language, but hearing English on the street is common. I wandered into the Copenhagen City Museum (the only museum open on a Monday) and caught up on Copenhagen’s history through the wonderfully designed exhibits. All the exhibits are in Danish and English, and while the collection is complete, it doesn’t feel finished, and I believe that the newly constructed exhibits have yet to weather a full tourist season. Admission was cheap at 20DKK (around $4CAD), and I could have spent more time there, but it closed and I was given the boot after only a couple hours of viewing.

I met up with Ali and Mikkel at Ali’s place, and after some supper, we headed off to the Copenhagen Police Band’s weekly rehearsal. Meeting a bunch of characters I remembered from Tattoo, I enjoyed hearing them play some familiar arrangements, and some songs I’d never heard. The musicians are wonderfully friendly and inviting, and I had a great time spending the evening with them. It was a great stop for my last evening in Copenhagen, a chance to catch up with some friends.

I guess this is where I sum things up, one would think I had this figured out by now. It’s difficult trying to take Copenhagen in perspective with things I had done before visiting Copenhagen, when in reality I’m writing this from Amsterdam, so I won’t try. Copenhagen was a very sudden transition from the lifestyle in the British Isles, the pub attitude in England and Scotland, the hardcore party attitude of Ireland. No longer is an ale with lunch accepted (and to some extent expected), a beer with supper the norm. And in retrospect, it isn’t similar to the rest of my experience in Europe either. Drinking culture (since I’ve focused on it so much thus far, why stop now) in Copenhagen is more about ONE glass of fine wine with a formal dinner, and no more; two drinks make one an alcoholic. Things change around 10PM when Copenhagen becomes similar to the rest of Europe, the youth flocking to the streets to let off some steam, but you can blame that on the Westernised youth. The Isles have their pubs, the rest of Europe I have seen thus far has an amazing cafe culture, but in Copenhagen I struggled to find any of these ‘typical’ social gathering spots. There were cafes, but they seemed geared to tourists and very quiet in the off season. Pubs were present, but sparsely patronized, and most beer drinking took place in restaurants. But walking home one day, I looked into the window of a house and I think I made my own personal discovery as to why this may be. I already have the feeling that  socialisation in Scandinavia is far more personal, and the scene in the window of several young adults together on a weeknight with a smorgasbord of a buffet solidified this for me. Social gatherings seem more intimate, hosted in one’s house not at the cafe. Friends get together over a home cooked meal rather than pub fare. It is the sort of social atmosphere which would be great for a local, but is lacking for a tourist. This is not to say I didn’t enjoy Copenhagen. Lucky for me, I had Ali and Mikkel who were more than welcoming into their own houses. As for the design of the city, Copenhagen is stunning. Wide boulevards allow for multiple lanes of traffic, large bike lanes in both directions, wide sidewalks, and centre medians. Surprisingly no tram network exists having been torn out in the 70’s. According to my friends, the ease of biking in Copenhagen has influenced locals choice of transportation enough that Copenhagen has the fewest cars per capita of any European capital, a proud title indeed! Other things I appreciated were: visiting my first country where people drive on the right side of the road; a city where people depend less on taxis (and far more on green methods of transport);  the sight of wind turbines on the horizon; by far the flattest city I have visited to date; and quite a lot more, easiest to see in some of my photos. On the green side (literally), the lakes, parks, tree lined streets, and other small additions all bring a very natural feel to even the heart of this bustling centre of Scandinavian business and commerce.

I truly enjoyed my time in Copenhagen, although as an offseason traveller, the stop was (by necessity) far less touristy. I thoroughly enjoyed strolling through the streets, catching up with friends, and FINALLY having a room to myself. What have I ultimately taken away from Copenhagen? I need to go back to Scandinavia when the weather is more agreeable and see far more. I know there is a lot to see in the vast expanse of the north. I suppose that’s another trip for another time.



PS: NO, I DIDN’T take a photo of the Little Mermaid.  But for those of you who MUST have a photo, here, from someone else, is The Little Mermaid.

11 Days in the Emerald Isle

Ok, so I'm QUITE behind at this point, around two weeks, so here goes the big catch-up.  The trek to Ireland was a short one, starting rather early with a bus to the Edinburgh airport at 6AM for an 8:20 flight (October 13th). The bus operated from just around the corner of my hostel, a relief while sick and with hardly any sleep. I flew with Aer Lingus, the little brother discount airline to RyanAir. No food is served on board these flights, there is no in flight entertainment, and business is done rather sternly. I can hardly complain however after paying only €49 for the flight (around $75). That’s right, I’m entering the Euro(€) zone. The flight was ridiculously short, taking around 30 minutes to attain the cruising altitude of 25,000ft, shortly followed by an announcement that we were entering our initial descent. Sure beats the five hours it took to get to Europe in the first place though! Quickly retrieving my bag and finding the very conveniently located tourist bureau, I purchased the “cheapest transportation into Dublin”. At €2.20 the local transportation option was a bargain, and THEN I was told it would take a grand total of an hour to get into the city, a mere 12km away. Not having picked up a city map yet, I followed the flow of people into the city centre to find an internet connection with which to call my CS host. CouchSurfing in Dublin, an Italian girl by the name of Valentina agreed to host me for a couple nights in her apartment shared with three other girls. Crushed to find that the McDonalds in Ireland didn’t have free WiFi as they did in the UK, I was lucky enough to find a nearby network. With some confusion, I managed to contact her and set up a time to meet. Valentina lives with three roommates, an Argentinean, a German, and another Italian. I immediately met with Luise (the German) and her Dutch friend Gijs, realizing this was truly an international house. Hanging out for a while to get to know everyone, I slowly realized that Dublin was a city more about the sights and people, than museums and things “To do”, except – that is – drink. Making plans to nap the later afternoon away, we agreed to go out that night to a CouchSurfing meeting at one of the many bars located in an area called Temple Bar. Largely a student and youth hangout, Temple Bar is home to an impressive concentration of pubs, bars, and nightclubs. I met a fair number of couch surfers at the bar, but was unimpressed with the choice of venue for the purposes of socialisation, as the live music was acoustic, but wired and cranked to the max. As an evening in Dublin always goes, it didn’t end with one bar and we made our way to other venues to further the “socialising”. Thus the tone was set for my visit to Dublin. It would be a visit focused mainly around meeting people, sharing stories and experiences over a drink, and being very laid back, just as the locals are. This evening ended rather late, and resulted in a late start to the next day.

Having seen the city by night, I decided to see the city by day on the CitySightseeing bus, which Valentina decided to hop aboard as well. The city has many fine sights to see, and anyone interested in the rich literary and academic history of Ireland would be delighted. I on the other hand was not interested in many of the artistic and literary sights offered, and after doing a circle through the city, we went for food , and went back to her apartment. It should come as no surprise that the plans for the evening were to go out and meet people once again. And meet we did. Again we visited a couple different bars, and the evening ended late.

A slightly earlier (which is not to say it was early) start the following morning, I decided to see the Guinness brewery, and after getting to a tourist information centre and finally getting a map, I was offered a ride outside of the info centre by one of Dublin’s free bike taxis. Sponsored by different companies or attractions, the most common bike taxi is sponsored by 7-up, where you are treated to a sample of their product. I got a ride in a bike advertising for Northern Ireland, where I was questioned on my travel plans to Northern Ireland (I had none) and told of all the sights I could see (joy...). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike Northern Ireland, I never dislike something I haven’t tried, its just that my travel plans were already set in stone on me leaving Ireland on a set date by plane. Dropping me at what might as well have been the pearly gates, I made it into the brewery and was absolutely taken aback by the magnificence of it all. Still a functional brewery, and the only one for Guinness in Western Europe, the information section is six storeys of educational material on Guinness, chances to sample the product, and even pour your own. The visitor building itself is no longer in use as a brewery, but is on the larger complex of brewery buildings. 250 years ago, already employing a good number of Dubliners, and soon to become the biggest employer in Dublin, Arthur Guinness signed a lease for the land for 9000 years under the agreement he would pay £100 for the lease, and £45 every year for the whole duration of the lease. Not bad for a lease covering a multi acre complex just outside of the heart of Dublin. To this date, a grand total of £45 is paid yearly to the city of Dublin for continued use of the land. Inside the building everything is focused around a grand centre atrium reaching the entire height of the building. It is usually not until the guides point out the shape that you realize the atrium is in the shape of – what in my opinion is incorrectly referred to as – the world’s largest pint glass. Possibly because I’m anal about the small details in the use of the English language, it was difficult but I managed to not point out that you can’t have a LARGEST pint glass. A pint is a pint unless it’s an American pint, then it’s different. Sigh. Maybe I should loosen up. The entire centre is designed for self guided tour, moderately interactive, telling you everything you could want to know about the history, present, and future of Guinness. I started off with lunch in the Guinness restaurant which was expensive, but surprisingly no more so than the rest of Dublin. It was unremarkable except for dessert which was a chocolate mousse, but served in a mini pint glass (again with the incorrect naming of a “pint” glass) with whipped cream on top to make it look like a particularly heady glass of Guinness. Yummy chocolate. I then proceeded to the bottom floor to start the self guided tour. At a point you get to sample Guinness (just a quarter pint but at least they don’t refer to it as a mini pint!), just enough to whet your appetite for more, which of course comes at the end. On the 5^th floor you make the very tough decision of whether to enjoy your free pint in the Gravity Bar on the 7^th floor, a panoramic view of the whole city, or to pour your own on the 5^th floor and get a fancy certificate saying you poured the perfect pint. Ever a do-it-yourself’er I opted for the latter, and a fancy-ish certificate is all mine! I also learned that in Dublin (and technically all over the world) if your pint is not poured properly, you can send it back for another (before it is all consumed of course), however I won’t get into the details (I’ll spare you this time). Pouring your own or not, one still has the chance to visit the gravity bar and enjoy the views it offers. I had a leisurely walk home, enjoying the sights as dusk set over Dublin on what was a relatively clear day. A relaxed night finished off with – you guessed it – a night out at the bars (noticing a theme yet? This is Ireland after all).

An even earlier start this morning (but again, not very early), I packed all my stuff and headed to a hostel after my last night couch surfing in Dublin. Once settled in at Litton Lane hostel, I headed off to the Jamieson’s Distillery to get another taste of the Irish drinking culture (because I clearly hadn’t had enough already). No longer a functioning distillery, the old distillery complex is set up entirely to showcase why Irish whiskey – and Jamieson’s in particular – is better than any other whiskey on the market. Including a drink of the famous elixir at the end of the tour, when they asked for volunteers at the end of a movie on the history of Jamieson’s I was forewarned to raise my hand immediately. Doing so, I was chosen to sample whiskeys at the end of the tour, jump for joy (joy...or whiskey, your choice)! The tour is entirely guided, taking you through the entire whiskey making process. The complex includes a mix of new recreations of old brewing tools, and even cooler are the old stills and mixing machines. Having been chosen to sample whiskeys, while everyone else was getting their free drink, myself and five others were seated and had placed before us three samples of whiskeys, an American, Scotch, and Irish. Luckily we were told which was which, but for the first time having the three lined up I was finally able to discern a noticeable difference between the three. Choosing the Irish as my favourite (as did everyone else, I mean, who would be stupid enough to do otherwise in the Jamieson’s distillery) I was rewarded with another free drink of Jamieson’s. It was an enlightening experience, and leaving the distillery a little light headed, I returned to the hostel to plan my evening and the next day when I would travel to Cork. For supper I decided to splurge a little, and went to a nearby restaurant called The Italian Connection. Of course the name is terribly unoriginal, but the food was authentic, tasty, and plentiful. The bill was hefty, but the tiramisu was light and fluffy, and the smoked salmon fettuccini was perfectly, lightly seasoned.

The next day (October 17^th) I took the tram to the train station to catch my train to Cork. The tram system in Dublin is very new, installed only a few years ago, and runs very efficiently every five or so minutes at peak. Fares are relatively cheap, a ticket for the whole of the main Dublin costing only €1.40, and the trams are the complete opposite of the trams of olde, accelerating to their top allowed speed in only a few seconds, and traversing the city rapidly in their own lanes with their own traffic signals. The intercity trains on the other hand are slow, take indirect routes, and are relatively expensive for the time they take. My train to Cork took around three hours, slowing many times to pass over very rough patches, or (I assume) to allow other trains to pass on single track stretches. I arrived in Cork to spitting rain, the beginning of what would be almost two continuous weeks of it. The main part of Cork is situated on an Island, with suburbs stretching out to the North and South. My hostel was a five minute walk from downtown, the deceivingly large Kinlay House Cork. Deciding to avoid the rain, I stayed in most of the day only wandering outside to get some food to munch on. I searched out things to do in Cork, as it came so highly recommended by some. Unfortunately, they must have seen things which I did not, for I didn’t find a heck of a lot to do in Cork.

I discovered that Cork was a city good for jumping off to other nearby sites, so the next day (Saturday) I took the bus to Blarney, home to Blarney Castle and the famous Blarney Stone. Not really sure what to expect, especially since it was a site so unpublicised in backpacker channels, I was delightfully surprised (understatement) at what I found. The grounds themselves are a sight to be seen, exceptionally well kept and looking good even mid fall. The castle is also quite magnificent, most of it still standing in its original splendour, aside from most of the roof and flooring not made of stone. And of course, one cannot visit Blarney Castle without kissing the Blarney stone. Said to grant magical powers of eloquence, it has been visited by such famous figures as Mick Jagger, Winston Churchill, Laurel and Hardy, Sir Walter Scott and many more. It is also rated as TripAdvisor’s most unhygienic travel attraction, but kiss it I did. I don’t know if it worked, you tell me, is this blog post any better? I also managed to partially get over one of my biggest fears, claustrophobia. At the base of the castle is a small network of dungeons, open to the public, lit inside, but barely open with a ceiling height around three feet, and barely lit, making me glad I always have a flashlight with me. After clamouring through about 20 metres of tunnels, I came to a dead end and had to work my way back out. Any sights worth seeing in there? No. A cool experience nonetheless? Certainly! One could literally spend a whole day at the castle, enjoying a picnic lunch on one of the many groomed fields on the castle grounds, leaving in time for supper in the small town of Blarney, probably in one of the quaint pubs. By the time I left at around 5:30, it was getting dark and once again quite cold. I stopped by a grocery store and picked up some food for cooking, my budget not enjoying the price of eating out in Ireland.

Sunday was a terrible culmination of so many terrible things. It poured rain (making outdoor sightseeing out of the question), everything was closed on a Sunday (making the indoor sights inaccessible), and it was quite cold out (I was surprised there weren’t any flurries). It turned into what I have come to refer to as “non-days”, days where nothing happens. I exist, I eat, nothing more. This was one of those days, but I did get out to do some mail, get some meat for supper, and get some clothing items I was lacking. It was a good chance to get a feel for the hostel, and I certainly did, and noticed that while it was well situated and priced, it was lacking in a few areas. The cooking facilities were industrial grade which generally means quality and durability, but in this instance had been left to deteriorate. The gas ranges are no longer electrically lit, but rather by matches and since the gas supply was as even as the road to Blarney Castle, I was twice singed lighting the range. The oven doors no longer spring shut and need propped closed by a chair (I wish I were kidding). In the bathrooms they have a noticeable mould and mildew problem and toilets which have a tendency to run. Does this seem like a really pissed off rant? I hope it doesn’t. I’m not pissed off, I promise. The staff are not overly friendly, making no attempt to crack a smile. One of the staffers even went so far as to verbally abuse about eight of us who lingered in the common room past an unposted, unmentioned closing time. On all of these things I have contacted the hostel management and received a very generic “yea yea yea, we’ll deal with it” response. I swear though, I’m not pissed off. The hostel was good, I just wouldn’t perhaps recommend it to anyone coming after me. There is another hostel, Cork International (if I remember correctly) which seems it may have been a better stay, try that one!

Overall I was a little disappointed with Cork. People made it out to be quite the tourist attraction, which it may very well be in summer, but in my thinking, a location has to have things to offer all year round in order to be an enduring tourist attraction. As it turns out, Cork is a destination mostly for visiting in so much as it is good for day tripping to nearby sights. So far my time in Ireland was less special than I had imagined it would be. It was a lovely country true, the scenery outside of the cities was wonderful and the history rich. But the people who were supposed to be so friendly, in Dublin were on the border between friendly and barely tolerating the tourist’s presence, and in Cork were blatantly cold to tourists. I maintain that I usually have a smile on my face when seeing a new area (no matter how bleak the weather), and to be met with unfriendliness is surprising and discouraging. I only hoped that with my next stop to Galway my mind would be changed and I would have a friendlier experience of Ireland. And I was not to be disappointed!

My trip to Galway was unbelievably long, taking around 6 hours by train. To book a trip on the uncommon route Cork to Galway would have cost in the neighbourhood of €65, but booking separately on the popular routes Cork to Dublin, Dublin to Galway cost only €25, and took only an hour longer. In comparison, a bus from Cork to Galway cost €24 and took only 2.5 hours. Unfortunately I didn’t know about Ireland’s terrific intercity bus services and booked all my trains ahead of time. My loss, your gain if you come to Ireland. In Cardiff I made friends with a friendly Irishman around my age named Niall who insisted I visit Galway on my trip and promised to set me up with some friends of his. He was a man of his word and finally arriving in Galway at 4PM I was met by Andreu, a Catalonian friend of Niall’s. He showed me back to his apartment where Niall stayed before he moved to Cardiff and introduced me to his roommates, a German, and an Irishman, another international house indeed! Not surprisingly for Ireland, Andreu showed me the nightlife of Galway, meeting a French friend (Samuel) and heading downtown for some local Celtic music. I was introduced to the Róisin Dubh, a popular local hangout where I would find myself the next two nights. I met more of Andreu’s friends, and met some locals as well, getting to know some truly friendly Irish.

After a spectacularly late evening, I had an equally late start to the day, managing to roll out of bed in time to do some laundry (meaning wait at the Laundromat for 2 hours) laze around the apartment for a bit, have some supper, before going out with Laughlin (the Irishman) for a night of comedy at the Róisin Dubh. I was hoping to see some good Irish comedy, but was instead surprised to see the evening line up included an Aussie, and an American. They were good for a laugh however, and I felt my €11 was well spent. After the comedy we hung around, meeting Andreu for (surprise) some after show drinks.

The next day I was determined to be a good tourist, and in the earliest start since Edinburgh, I got up to catch a sightseeing bus to Connemara, a district of West Ireland with Galway Tour Company. Connemara is a beautiful area, and the whole trip you find yourself navigating through postcard perfect mountains (again referred to as bens) and large sweeping valleys, dotted with lakes and fjords. Our tour guide had the incredible gift of gab, although he could have done with a kiss or two with the Blarney Stone. Not quite knowing when to shut the microphone off, we were treated to hour after hour of inconsequential, rambling facts and personal anecdotes. At only 23, his anecdotes were not quite interesting enough to hold everyone’s interest and I definitely noticed a few people snoozing on the bus. No one snoozed when we caught sight of the scenery however, and with a good number of stops for photos, we were all happy. The tour also stopped at Kylemore Abbey, a non defensive castle built by Mitchell Henry for his wife, Margaret. Here our guide deceived us, having us believe that the castle cost an outrageous £1.3m to build in the 1860’s, and that was an 1860’s £1.3m. I have since read a much more conservative estimate in the tens of thousands of pounds in 1860’s money. On that note, a difficulty for travellers is never knowing if you can trust what your tour guide tells you. Think about it, they could feed you complete BS all day and you would be none the wiser. In forgetting small details for the purposes of my blog I have often searched online for the same facts and found them to be quite different from what I was told on the tours. It is an awful feeling, knowing that you paid for a lovely drive and the chance to be lied to. But ever the optimist, I like to think that he just didn’t know any better on this and any other fabrications he may have fed us. Rambling driver aside, the tour was well worth it for the scenery and the chance to get out of the city, especially at only €20 (plus an unadvertised €8 for entrance into Kylemore). Supper was spent with some friends I made on the tour before I went back to the apartment to hang out and pack, before once again heading out for drinks at Róisin Dubh. This time I went alone, meeting friends I had met the previous evening. I decided to stay out all night, hanging out with my new friends until 4:30 when I collected my belongings from the apartment and headed to the train station to catch my 5:20 train to Dublin for my flight to Copenhagen.

Galway was a very redeeming city in my mind for the whole of Ireland. A country definitely best seen in summer, it seems to have a tourism mentality which switches off once out of season. It puts away the friendly smiles and cheerful demeanours in favour of a nose to the grindstone, hard at work attitude for winter. Galway however is a happier city with plenty of people waiting to crack a smile or a joke. While Ireland could be quite lovely to see in October, it is difficult for one without easy mobility to see the beautiful parts. There is a lot of culture in the cities, but the true Ireland is in the country side, in the Irish speaking parts, off the beaten path. I would recommend Ireland to anyone, but as I almost made the mistake, don’t stick to the big cities, and if you do, be sure to sample the drinking culture. Whether you are a big drinker or not, have a pint, share some stories, get to know this very Irish side of life. I’m sure some have read through this post and though “my, he does drink a lot!” But in all honesty, I was quite controlled and my budget saw to it that I stayed that way. There is a part of me that wants to be a good tourist and go to bed at a decent hour every night, and get up bright and early to see as many museums, local cultural attractions and money sapping sights as possible, but there is another part that recognises that in some places, the best way to see a locale is to see it the way a local does. In Ireland, that just happens to be at night with a smile on the face and a pint in the hand.