Day 329: Museum of Communism oh, and another walking tour

I have a small obsession with Communism. You may remember I’m a big fan of old communist propaganda prints? I’ve been to this museum before, but obviously, in order to feed my obsession I didn’t mind returning! The Museum of Communism isn’t nearly as thought out or artistically designed as… say, The House of Terror in Budapest was, but it’s not as bad as some of the Trip Advisor reviews say it is. It is in desperate need of some updating (or at least a discount until it is updated?) but if you’re into history, you might enjoy it. Afterwards, wanting to make up for two bookkeeping (planning/blogging/escaping the heat) days, we joined anotherfree walking tour through Prague. We were so pleased it turned out to be sooo much better than the worst ‘free’ walking tour we took a few days ago. Our guide, David was so nice (and educated and certified!) we ended up sticking around for the second part of the tour on the other side of the river!

The Museum of Communism was just as I remembered, not fun to pay for (a bit overpriced for an exhibition space so outdated in my opinion) but fun to see nonetheless. I think one of the downsides to this trip (in a way) is that we’re exposed to so many great museums that when we come across one that isn’t up to par with some others around the world, we get a little disappointed. At least I do.

I looked the museum up just now to find out some more information and was a bit surprised to discover the founder is also responsible for Bohemia Bagel (an old favorite) and U Malého Glena (a jazz club that was right across the street from my old apartment). Bohemia Bagel was one of the few (at the time you could count on one hand) places where you could get a good internet connection and a western style breakfast or brunch. It was great. These days it’s full of backpackers on a the free walking tour associated with the restaurant or signing up the affiliated pub crawl. I’m wondering if the same owner is responsible for this… If so, I’d like to shake his hand for the good bagel sandwiches six years ago and wring his neck for putting my old favorites on the average 19 year old backpacker’s to do list today. (If you’re interested in reading more about the American born entrepreneur, you can do so here, and here.)

During the first half of the free walking tour, we covered much of the same ground (and information) as we did during the first one. Old Town Square, the Astronomical Clock, the Clock Tower, the stables next to and behind Tyn Church, the Jewish Quarter, and stopped short of Charles Bridge. The group was not so large, and aside from the weird American family (working for the state department abroad) it was a great group to talk to. The weird family took off early, and the guide was so sweet, we decided to stick continue on with the tour on the lesser side (Mala Strana) for the second half of the tour. Although, I really appreciated that there was a break and an option halfway through to continue on, or leave, or perhaps pick up with the tour on another day!

The tour ended within the walls of Czech Castle. We had just enough time to sneak down to the gardens for a view of the city below before it started to rain during our walk back across the river. We ran into two girls from the tour at the same restaurant our guide suggested. As they were from South Korea, they were a bit flabbergasted to find out we had lived there for so long, knew where they went to school, and could even do spot on ajjushi impersonations for them. I never think this is crazy, half of my friends are from my time in Korea. When you’re surrounded by similar people or at least doing similar things, it doesn’t seem as unique. It was my life. It just happened to be in a country not everyone would think a girl from Kentucky would pick to reside in. Chatting with these two tonight made me wonder what reactions will be when we move back to America. Are we really that unique for having lived in South Korea for so long? I don’t really think so, but I’m sure we’ll find out in a few months!

We managed to escape the torrential rain (perhaps you can tell by the gloomy sky above?) but our room, despite having all of its windows shut, did not. Neither did my backpack- full of clothes, souvenir ticket stubs, tourist pamphlets, and one of my travel journals full from this trip. But we’ll get to that tomorrow. Don’t be surprised when Day 330’s blog post is titled For SHAME, Hostel Florenc, For SHAME!

Day 326: Mala Strana (part 2) Kampa Museum

We’re baaack in Mala Strana, more specifically; Kampa. I just can’t get enough. Andrew apparently can’t get enough of contemporary art either, because he insisted we go to another museum. Ok, so maybe insisted is the wrong word, but there was a Gerald Scarf exhibition at the Kampa Museum he was keen on seeing and I was not one to complain. We headed straight for the museum (I went a little crazy taking pictures of the pieces I liked most) and then strolled past the Lennon Wall before having dinner at another old haunt, The Hanging Coffee and making an appearance (and a rather weak performance) at a local English trivia night!

I don’t often photograph art – in museums – like I did today. For some reason, I just couldn’t help myself. I really liked some of the pieces and some I just thought were really fun to play with the juxtaposition and depth of field. Unfortunately, I didn’t jot down all of the artists’ names. I feel a bit bad about this. But I’m pretty sure everything I photographed is part of the permanent collection. Except the Gerald Scarf prints. I don’t know if I have a preference between Kampa Museum and the DOX Museum. They were a bit different, and I have a feeling that bigger traveling exhibitions circulate through the DOX. I wasn’t terribly impressed with the Judith on Kampa exhibition featuring works by Klimpt, Mucha, and Kupka- but that’s mostly because it wasn’t a very large collection, and I’m a bigger fan of Mucha (not so much Klimpt, Kupka is ok I guess, although I don’t know much about him) But bottom line is- if you want to see Mucha, then you should go to the Mucha Museum (in Prague) instead.

The personal collection was cool though, and perhaps had I known better, and if Andrew hadn’t wanted to see some Pink Floyd artwork, we would have only paid to see the permanent collection. I always tease Andrew (and maybe I’ve mentioned it on the blog before?) that I only want to be rich so I can be all ‘Pretty Woman’ (Big Mistake. HUGE.) to snooty sales clerks in high end stores. Now, I would also like to have a small fortune to my name so I can collect random modern art pieces and have a ‘collection.’ I think Andrew is down for both- watching me pretend I’m ‘Pretty Woman’ and buying lots and lots of art.

There were a few pieces of Gerald Scarf’s works that really spoke to me. Like, for instance, the one above: from Pink Floyd’s We Don’t Need No Education: the teacher is throwing up into the students’ mouths. Hey! Teacher! Leave those kids alone! 

The Lennon Wall! Once upon a time, my name resided here. I’m sure it’s still there, buried under layers and layers of paint. Andrew usually surprises me with restaurants on this trip, or places he thinks I’ll like that I didn’t look up (and he did) so it was really fun for me to be able to surprise him all over Prague. Had I been really thinking, I would have made it a point to stop and get some spray paint on our way…

Another surprise was climbing up the hill towards the castle, but turning off and taking Andrew to The Hanging Coffee instead. I think Alex (my old roommate) introduced this restaurant to us back in the day, but I can’t be so sure. Either way, it has really great food. We usually went for dinner and drinks, but I hear the coffee is good (and unlimited)! My favorite part is that everyone else there spoke Czech. No pub crawl coming through here, yet… After dinner, we joined an English trivia night, and we made the most epically dismal display of knowledge ever. There was a bridges category- with pictures of bridges around the world and you had to name them.

“I’ve been there. Wherever that bridge is, I know I’ve seen it. But I can’t remember where…” I insisted to Andrew giving me a complete blank expression. We later found out it was in Bratislava. The city we were in RIGHT BEFORE PRAGUE! We didn’t win, but we didn’t come in last – and that’s almost as good as winning some nights, right?

On the way home we waited for the tram with a beautiful view of St. Nicholas lit up at night. I, of course, got super nostalgic. I used to walk home looking at the same view night after night during my year in Prague. I darted out in the middle of the street to take a picture. How lucky was (am) I?

Day 325: Mala Strana (part 1)

My old ‘hood: Mala Strana. In 2006, I knew I was lucky to live here (two blocks away from the end of Charles Bridge) and loved every second of it. The neighborhood was (and still is) spectacular (albeit a bit more touristy than I remembered). I walked home either over the infamous bridge or towards one of the more famous churches in town everyday. My roommates were great. Even the ten flights of stairs to climb up to our apartment were more than manageable! It is probably my most favorite place that I’ve ever lived. I missed it all as we walked thirty minutes from our hotel room through the old town towards ‘the little side’ that used to be right out my bedroom window, and front door. Andrew humored me, and insisted he enjoyed hearing me reminisce about my year in Prague. We’ll all just pretend he really meant it and wasn’t tired of my stories after awhile…

I insisted the Kafka Museum was cool. I told Andrew that I’ve been, but still have yet to read any Kafka, so perhaps I should wait to return until I’ve read at least one book to better appreciate the museum. He agreed, and instead we took a picture of the statues of men peeing on a pool of water in the shape of the Czech Republic before moving on. If you want to read about the sculptor, David Cerny, and see more of his pieces, I suggest you check out this article. I had no idea he was the one responsible for so many works throughout Prague! 

Marionettes are popular here, and not just chintzy ones either. While one of our walking tour guides didn’t seem to understand their popularity, a Czech friend of ours remembered shows being put on for children at one point. I love (LOVE) marionette shops and dream of one day having a theater and put on a show much like the one in "The Sound of Music."

These marionettes only ran around $400-$600. I totally would have gotten them… you know, if not for the old budget. Oh right, and the fact that I don’t have a theatre yet, or a house to put it in, or a job to pay for it all…

After a quick lunch and some more of Mala Strana, we plopped down and took a nap in the park.

We walked back towards the area of town sandwiched in between Narodni Divadlo (the national theater) and Narodni Trida (where the best fried cheese sandwich stand used to reside). Walking around this town was like riding a bike. Usually Andrew relies on google maps to get us around, but I wouldn’t even let him peek at his phone, insisting I would figure it out. I did, and it felt good. What didn’t feel so good- eating cold (and overpriced) wings at Jama!

This restaurant, Jama- used to be a block away from where I worked. It had really cheap food (salads and wings were my favorites) and really terrible waitresses. We would go for lunch and try to order tap water with our food, and the waitresses would always insist, “It’s not possible!” wanting us to buy overpriced bottled water instead.

We would always grumble “IT IS POSSIBLE, YOU’RE JUST NOT GOING TO DO IT!” to each other and then order a (cheaper than water) beer instead. A friend of mine who left Prague only a year or so ago warned me about the decline of Jama, but I had to see for myself. At least now I know.

Paying a visit to one of my favorite places, which has (for the most part) remained the same made up for it. Hello, Usudu, you old friend! What’s great- is that it’s still pure awesomeness walking down several flights of stairs through an old, dark wine cellar that has been converted into a bar. What’s not so great- we learned later on that it’s on a tourist pub crawl and if you don’t time it right, you’ll suddenly be surrounded by thirty or forty twenty year old Brit boys drinking Pilsners in Prague for the first time.

Day 324: DOX Museum & Letna Park

Andrew likes to introduce me to new television shows and films (especially of the foreign variety) while I like to introduce him to art. More like: he humors me when I say I would like to visit a contemporary art museum. I promised a beer garden after- perhaps this helped. I have to admit, I really enjoy contemporary art museums, much like I enjoy thrift stores. As we were walking through the DOX Contemporary Art Museum, it dawned on me that they can be quite similar experiences. Often, in a thrift or secondhand store, it’s filled with a lot of things you aren’t interested in. at. all. You may even walk out with nothing, feeling a bit disappointed. But when you do see something you like- or even love- it’s like a bit of a treasure and it makes up for having to sift through so much that you simply didn’t appreciate. I felt this way walking through the DOX today. I was on the fence about the Disabled by Normality exhibition until I saw the Isolabella film by Danica Dakic and fell in love with the concept. I think Andrew even liked it… although I’m pretty sure he enjoyed Letna Park, the views of Prague complimented by the old school hip hop blasting from the skateboard park, and the beer (of course) a little bit more. But, hey, it’s pretty hard to beat this view, so I don’t blame him.

The exhibition was interesting, we may have done it in an incorrect order (I can never understand why museums don’t use more arrows) but like I said above, by far, my favorite part was this super interesting short film made in Bosnia and Herzegovina by Danica Dakic. I’m pretty sure it was the best part of the entire (somewhat large) exhibition.

Within this post, there used to be a still I managed to take of the video, of one resident playing the piano with his mask on backwards. I had credited the photo as being a still from the video made by Dakic, and in no way was trying to infringe on copyright, but was contacted by another photographer, who didn’t state any relation to Dakic. This photographer was unhappy with how I inserted the still of Dakic’s video in this blog post. Not only was he unhappy, but I found his message to be super condescending. Frankly had he not been so condescending or perhaps explained his relationship to Dakic… moreover if Dakic himself had contacted me- I would have immediately taken steps to appease him by “appropriately crediting” Dakic, even though in my opinion, I already had. It’s unfortunate. Dakic’s website is so minimal, it does not even provide stills or clips of the video to link up to at least try to convey how lovely the film turned out. It’s photographers and artists like the one who contact me that make me cringe and frankly dislike being any part of the “art world.” If I was Dakic, I would be ashamed of having this other photographer speak on my behalf. Artists, moreover photographers (like the one who contacted me) don’t have to be rude and condescending.

Instead of providing a still that I took (of one of my favorite moments of the video), and a complimentary “about” the video that I loved, I just took it all down out of annoyance. It’s a shame that art can’t be spread around the world because of persons like the one who emailed me.

I also enjoyed Kamila Ženatá’s solo exhibition: The Women’s Yard. When we got to the last room, it was filled with hanging crystals and changing lights. It was quite beautiful, but I scared myself silly when I walked into the dark room and then saw someone sitting (working) in the corner. He laughed at me. a lot. And then let me take a few pictures, but they really don’t do the light in the room justice…

After the DOX, as promised, we headed to Letna. First stop: the metronome. There used to be a huge (HUGE) Stalin monument here, but it was removed and a few years later this giant metronome was put in its place as a symbol of the change over time. The shoes hanging from an electrical wire were new to me though (so within the past six years they’ve been added) and I loved them! There were even a pair of old ice-skates dangling from the wire. They made me a little nervous, I mean, wouldn’t that be just my luck they accidentally fell on top of me walking underneath them? We walked around the park, and then doubled back to have a couple of Pilsners in the gardens before heading “home.”

Day 322: Oh Prague, I’ve missed you so!

I wanted to get out of Bratislava so badly and into Prague that I convinced Andrew to wake up early so we could leave on the first train. We were walking towards Old Town Square by late afternoon and even though we planned on going out for dinner and then heading back to get some much needed sleep, I ended up giving Andrew an impromptu tour/trip down memory lane from my year of living and working in this lovely city! We had Czech food at an old haunt of mine near Mustek, walked through Old Town Square and over Charles Bridge, and had ice cream on the square outside of my old apartment. We walked the back streets of Narodni Trida around more of my old favorite places, mourned the missing smažený sýr stand at the now closed metro stop before we snuck into the back offices in the building I used to work in not to visit my old employers, but to ride the magical (old-fashioned) elevator.

I stopped myself from taking pictures of the square thinking surely, we’d be back through many (many many) times in the next week to come. I was more interested in photographing my old apartment building for my old roomies. Tina was afraid that a Starbucks had taken over the first floor of our building. Luckily, Starbucks moved in across the street instead and our building looked very much the same with the tourist restaurants and jewelry shops below. It’s only a couple blocks away from the end of Charles Bridge. It was my most favorite place I’ve ever lived. We’d walk across the bridge late after a night out, or I’d walk down the tram street just to admire the view of the lit up St. Nicholas Church. It was magical every time.

This is where I mourned my favorite smažený sýr stand. Smažený sýr is fried cheese in Czech. At this particular stand, it was served on a bun with massive amounts of tartar sauce. I gained at least twenty pounds living in Prague for the year, and fully intend on the same happening during our visit this week. Riding the magical elevator (below) made up (just a teensy bit) for the missing fried cheese. It might not look like much, but it’s this incredibly old school elevator that you have to hop on and off of. It’s pretty awesome and might have been one of the best things about working there.

Day 317: Ruin Pub Hopping

You’re probably super impressed with our efforts to learn more about fascism and communism and what life was really like in Budapest during those times… How we spent an afternoon in the House of Terror and went on not one, but two three-hour walking tours in the past two days… After spending a week in Bosnia and Herzegovina trying to wrap our heads around the Balkans and the Bosnian War. Well, get ready to be equally impressed with our mission to check out as many ruin pubs as we could in one day.

It’s a day of drinking, folks!

In abandoned Hungarian buildings in the Jewish district of Budapest that have been transformed into what is arguably one of the coolest drinking scenes around the world. Yep. I said it: around the world. A few months ago, Al Jazeera published this pretty good read about the ruin pubs, and if you want even more information, a list of ruin pubs, a map, or even drinking coupons; then go here. (We totally should have gotten the coupon book when we first arrived to Budapest, if you like beer, or just hanging out in cool places, you should probably invest in one!)

So we got up and had breakfast… Andrew did some travel research, I blogged, and then we decided at around two in the afternoon, we could probably make our way to our first ruin pub of the day… I have to admit, we checked this out the other night after our tour and I loved it. But I wanted to take more pictures and figured it was a good excuse to return.

First stop: Szimpla, the original (and oldest) ruin pub. It was built, or transformed I should say in 2001. Even though I was here last in late 2006 (or maybe it was early 2007?) I don’t remember any ruin pubs being popular. We went out, and I remember the few places we went being very (VERY) cool- but not ‘ruin pub cool.’ According to Lonely Planet, it’s the third best bar in the world (in 2012). It’s kinda like that feeling you get of being ‘home’ when you’re drinking on a patio in Chicago, only edgier because you’re in an abandoned building surrounded by eclectic retro decorations and art installations and oh right, carrot vendors. One night we even walked past one guy performing a magic trick (which we read is a scam, so be careful!) while two fratty looking boys smoked shisha as they watched. I loved it. It’s laid back. It’s unpretentious. It’s just… cool. You can walk in as a tourist and take pictures before you sit down for a beer or you can meet your friends and film an Indian drum music video. We saw both. Simultaneously.

Yep, that’s a car in the middle of the garden. The interior had been redecorated. I was hoping it would have comfy old cushioned vinyl seats, but they had been replaced with a more outdoor appropriate bench. Although empty in the middle of the afternoon, I found the random rooms off to the side of the main entrance area just as interesting as the garden out back!

Carrots for sale? Yes, please! It’s very hard to turn down a fresh carrot. We actually went back another night and I was really sad there weren’t any carrot vendors walking around… I should mention too, that when we went back (on a Friday night) it was PACKED. There were security guards. There were groups of stag parties. There were locals expertly weaving their way through the crowd. Andrew and I didn’t even try to squeeze into the garden area and instead sat on an unclaimed bench in the main entrance area and people watched for at least two solid hours. It was awesome.

I guess some would say that the best part(s) of the Jewish Quarter are the ruin pubs that are scattered throughout. Obviously, we enjoyed them immensely. The beer was good. The atmosphere at each was pretty unique. There were a lot of international food choices in or near the ruin pubs… The list goes on. But one of my favorite parts was walking to and from each pub. The street art, the architecture, even the dilapidated buildings were fun to pass by, and of course stop and photograph.

Not far from Szimpla, is Koleves Kert (our second stop). It’s nice. In the afternoon, it was calm and quiet, but when we walked by on Friday night, it was bumpin’. I might go on a limb to say that this was the least, perhaps, unique kert. I love being in a garden, but as far as enjoying it because it’s a garden in Budapest, I don’t know if it’s worth it. The bathrooms were really nice though! I especially liked the rear-view mirrors in lieu of the more traditional type above the sink.

Directly across the street from Koleves, is Ellátó, garden and taqueria. Our third stop had a lot more character than Koleves (sorry, Koleves) but not as much as Szimpla or Fogas and the tacos are crazy small. Seriously. Crazy. Small. (There’s another taqueria next to Szimpla, so go there to get your fix.) It was still fairly early in the evening (ahem, afternoon) so maybe it’s more fun when there are more people around, but I wasn’t feeling it…

I thought perhaps we just haven’t seen a taco in awhile, and maybe sizes have shrunk… But even on the back of the door in the ladies room, one girl scrawled “THE TACOS ARE TOO SMALL!” and I wished I had my own Sharpie to scrawl “AMEN!”

Fourth stop, Fogas. Probably my second favorite ruin pub. They have chicken wings, people. How can any pub go wrong when there are cheap chicken wings available? It, like Szimpla has a lot of different rooms although, my favorite was the main garden mostly for the giant circus like ceiling.

We retraced our steps a bit for our fifth stop, Kuplung.

It looks super pretty with all of the jellyfish lamps hanging over the garden area. Had we known it was going to fill to capacity in the garden, perhaps we would have stopped in earlier instead of skipping over to Fogas. Because, instead of sitting outside and enjoying the ambiance of the garden, we had to sit inside.

And it was awful. Stop, if you can sit outside… skip it if you can’t. It’s advertised that there is dancing late night though, so maybe that’s worth it as well!

Sixth stop, Anker’t, the trendiest of trendy ruin pubs. Moby-esque music plays in the background. Wood beams and corrugated steel glow under both stark neon and soft paper lamps. The burgers looked ah-mazing. But I wasn’t hungry (after wings at Fogas, remember?) and sadly declined when Andrew asked if I wanted to order one. Every table was full, and often chairs were taken from tables of two. I’m curious what this place would be like really late. Would it stay the same amount of trendy? Would it get crazy? Go find out and tell me.

Seventh stop, Most. It was right around the corner from our apartment. It’s not on the ‘ruin pub website’ rather it’s one of their ‘recommended’ bars. It felt more like a restaurant than a ruin pub. I mean, it was a restaurant, and I think our waiter was disappointed we only ordered drinks in the garden. If you want Hungarian food (albeit a bit overpriced) go here. Perhaps the wine (bor) is great if they have an entire bar set up for it. But just to have a beer… nah…

To be fair, we also went to Instant on two other nights. Perhaps you’ll stop here at the end of one of your walking tours (we did on the Communist one). It was also right around the corner from our apartment and I was shocked to see a line down the block at around 11 one Friday. It felt a lot like Szimpla, only not as cool. The inside ‘garden’ had a retractable glass ceiling that was closed both nights we went in. It’s big. There are lots of different rooms, but it just felt like it was trying too hard. It was more on the ‘weird art’ style of things than the ‘retro cool’ that I like. If you’re into things like a herd of rabbits suspended from the ceiling, or photoshopped ‘family’ portraits, or even a very creepy mental-institution-like bathroom on display, then knock yourself out, otherwise stick to Szimpla or try somewhere new!

Day 316: What is this ‘House of Terror’?

The House of Terror was once the headquarters of the Arrow Cross Secret Police in Budapest. Many were interrogated and tortured within its walls. A plaque alongside many pictures on the outside of the building reads in part: ‘We cannot forget the horror of terror, and the victims will always be remembered’. In 2002, the building was transformed into a museum with incredibly well designed (some being interactive) exhibitions that often double as what feels like a modern art display. The museum follows the fascist and Stalinist times as well as the years after WWII leading up to the 1956 Uprising. It’s a LOT of information. So much information is not only in front of you, but print-outs are distributed in nearly every room. It started to feel like an intensive history class after awhile, but in a really great way (even if it was information overload). Because we’re gluttons for history lessons and free walking tours, we decided to spend the afternoon on the Free Communist Walking Tour.

The outside of the building was modified to set it apart from the rest on the street. I thought the move was interesting especially considering that originally the building was chosen to be the communist regime’s headquarters because it blended in so well with the other buildings. So much torture was going on right under everyone’s noses.

The museum also acts as a memorial to those who have died in the building, as you can see by the pictures behind the giant tank stationed in the middle of the closed courtyard. I remembered the tank to be dripping a lot more oil than it was today. I’m not sure if I’m misremembering or not. The flowing and oozing oil had a much different effect than the slightly dusty tank you see today. Unfortunately, photos weren’t allowed within the actual exhibition rooms. It’s a really impressive museum, and makes fascism and communism incredibly visually appealing. My favorite was the brightly lit communist propaganda wallpapered room. I LOVE communist propaganda posters. I’m fascinated by them and have a small collection. I wonder if they would share that wallpaper with me. My communist themed bathroom needs it.

The Free Communist Walking Tour was rather interesting, even if it involved more talking than walking… We both liked this guide a lot more than the one we had yesterday though, so that helped quite a bit. We walked through the same park (with the locked up love and skateboarders) and sat down to hear about what communism was like in Hungary. Our guide told us a story about how bananas were only available during Christmastime, but how her friend’s family was overwhelmed when they were in Austria for a vacation in the summertime and saw bananas everywhere! They were so excited that they bought some obscene amount of kilos of bananas to bring back into the country. Officials at the border obviously wouldn’t allow bananas to enter Hungary in the middle of summer, and our guide’s friend’s family didn’t want all of their precious bananas to go to waste… So they sat at the border and each ate 2 kilos or so of bananas before they returned home. Our guide said her friend hasn’t been able to look at, let alone eat bananas since.

I learned that the communist styled block buildings were initially created in Sweden to alleviate a short term housing crisis. In Sweden, these compact apartment buildings were made, used for a couple of months, and then destroyed. Our guide pointed a few out and talked about how many families were crammed into one apartment building. Living-rooms were non-existent because authorities didn’t want people to have any opportunity to meet in private. There was no privacy. She joked around how everyone could hear everything from neighbors fighting to… making up. Andrew and I nodded, from experience, as we can hear everything next door in our little loft/studio apartment we’re renting.

We walked by a bomb shelter. That’s a close up above, and a wider view of the cover/entrance below. Unfortunately, we missed a lot of the explanation because Andrew let our entire tour fill up their water bottles before he filled up ours. One girl on the tour smiled at me waiting for him halfway between stops on the tour so he would know where to go when he caught up.

“Your man is a good one… I saw him let everyone go before him even though he was the first one there.” She said.

“I know… He does this kind of thing all the time…” I rolled my eyes and smiled. We chatted in between stops and later when I told Andrew I had to say goodbye to my new friend, he looked at me funny, wondering when I had the chance to make a new friend.

We stopped outside the former national television station. Rent is too high these days for the station to remain in downtown Budapest. When the station would broadcast old James Bond movies, the villains weren’t Russian, they were Chinese. Everyone laughed. When talent shows were on, instead of calling in to vote for your favorite performance, viewers would turn their lights on or off depending on what they liked. If I remember correctly, kids weren’t big fans of the emerging hip-hop and would sneak down into the basements of their buildings and flip the electrical breakers off, voting for an entire building or possibly block of housing units.

This monument of the 'man on the bridge' is dedicated to the progress towards democracy, which is why the statue is facing the parliament buildings in the background.

Day 312: Neno’s Free Walking Tour & The Sarajevo Tunnel

We were in Sarajevo smack in the middle of Ramadan. While native Muslims were fasting and praying, we were going on another walking tour and immersing ourselves in Sarajevo trying to learn even more about the city and its people’s history here. We decided to check out Neno’s Free Walking Tour– one that was led by one person (instead of the usual independent volunteer organization that provides this service in cities around Europe) hoping that we would learn even more or be able to fill in the blanks from our first tour in Sarajevo. Afterwards, we headed a little bit out of town to explore the Sarajevo Tunnel that was used during the siege to link Sarajevo with the Bosnian territory on the other side of the airport. It was a busy day, to say the least!

We thought we had failed making the tour on time. We were ten minutes late, and no one was to be seen at the National Theatre where we were told to meet. We lingered for twenty minutes or so while Andrew ran down the river to see if he could spot a small group walking along in a group. He came back with nothing. We gave up and started walking towards the tram to go out to the tunnel when we spotted a group on the other side of the building. Obviously the four of us aren’t the smartest… When in doubt, in the future, walk around the building instead of up and down the street. (Duh, right?)

We were able to join the tour, but we think we missed the 30 minute or so history lesson at the beginning that we were all most interested in. Leanne and I joked around wondering how we could ask Neno if he could repeat everything he had just said. We didn’t, but were delighted when the tour immediately veered in a different direction than our previous tour. One of the first stops was at the busting market that was hit with a mortar bomb in February of 1994 killing 66 and injuring 200. It was devastating to say the least. Aside from learning about this terrible incident, Neno provided pictures of what was sold in the market during the siege and claimed that the market wasn’t as pretty (nor as fresh) as it is today. He talked about the canned meat that was sold and how after the war, one woman opened a can up and set it down for her cat (or maybe it was a dog?) to eat and the poor thing sniffed at it and refused to eat it. He also told us how there wasn’t any chocolate or candy available, so he would sneak sugar into his pocket as a child and lick his fingers and dip them into his pocket for some sugar. He admitted to still having a sweet tooth and dipping sugar cubes in his coffee and popping them in his mouth nowadays. I wanted to relate my passion for mixing sugar into the foamy part of my lattes and enjoying that before drinking the coffee below.

We walked past another Sarajevo Rose, and he told another story about how someone he knew came home one evening after walking through town wearing some extra wide leg pants. When she arrived home, she discovered holes in her pants from sniper shots. My eyes grew big. Can you even imagine? He said that despite the war, and the siege especially, his mother refused to stay home and hide, saying she would go crazy if she didn’t go into town to work. She walked to/from town for 45 minutes or maybe an hour each day. And remember, the city is basically surrounded by mountains with snipers scattered around, shooting into the city day in and day out. One woman piped up;

“I’m a mother… What made your mother decide to keep you all here? Why didn’t she take everyone out?”

Neno responded that his mother always thought the war would end. It would only last a month more… She would say.

In case you’re unfamiliar with the length of the siege, it lasted three years.

After our stop around another Sarajevo Rose, we walked into Sacred Heart Cathedral, the same we saw on the other tour. Only today, a nun was taking care of some ironing in the front of the church.

Another (equally exciting) chess match was on in the park. We all lingered, again, enthralled by the intensity of the game and how interested all of the men gathered were in the game going on.

We stepped into the Cathedral Church of the Nativity of the Theotokos (The Orthodox Church) and as there wasn’t a ceremony going on, we were free to walk in a bit closer and take more pictures.

I debated titling this post “How to NOT be obnoxious on a Tour” because we were unfortunately graced with the presence of two girls who were exactly that. Annoying. You might notice them in the video above, because chances are they are in every frame. I had to get creative shooting footage without them standing in front of me. I also started getting a bit more forward, asking them if they could move out of the way. I’m pretty sure most people know how to act on a tour, but in case you’re unfamiliar with tour group etiquette, here are a few tips for you:

1. Don’t stand in front of the tour guide at every stop. There are other people on the tour, and they might want to see the tour guide’s face every once and awhile.

2. Take your picture, and move out of the way, so others on the tour can take a picture as well. If you want to take more pictures, if you want to get different angles, if you just can’t get the right perspective, then let others go first.

3. When the tour guide holds up a picture for everyone to see, don’t stand in front of the 8×10 laminated picture preventing all 20 others on the tour from seeing it. And if you absolutely need to have a picture of that picture, then ask for it when the tour guide is finished talking about it!

4. When the guide is talking about what life was like during the war, don’t ask him “What was that like for you?” after he just finished explaining the answer to your question. Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You have a notebook out, you’re taking notes. What on earth were you doing?

5. When someone (me) is clearly waiting for you to move so she can take a picture, MOVE! Why on earth are you standing there looking at me, with my camera in front of my face, ready to take a picture? I don’t want a picture of you! I want a picture of the beautiful building you are standing in front of and NOT even looking at!

6. And so help me if you are going to introduce yourself to others as a photographer (yea, I overheard you talking to the Australian whose yacht is “stuck” in Croatia) don’t steal my shot. I’m not talking about taking the same pictures that everyone takes on a tour of the Sarajevo Roses or the facades of churches or the men playing chess. I’m talking about when I go out of my way to practically lay down on the floor of a church and then I see you see me and then you do the same thing. If you really are a photographer, you would know that any other photographer would NOT be cool with that. And I don’t even introduce myself as a photographer, even though clearly, I take a lot of pictures.

I know, you’re probably like, ‘Woah, Liz. Calm down!’ And really, I told myself the same, until Leanne confirmed how ridiculously unaware these two girls were. I tried to linger towards the back of the group, thinking surely that would help. It didn’t. I debated pulling them aside, much like a mother would do to her own children and tell them to stop being so annoying. Instead, I rolled my eyes at myself, at my impatience, and tried to find them entertaining instead of annoying. That is, until the (same) one purposely stopped, waiting for me to move, and then started walking back to where I was standing to take the exact same picture.

“I’m a witch.” I whispered to Leanne as I caught up to them after taking the picture below. (Only I might have used a different word)

“I asked her if she was going to take the same picture I just took, and told her I didn’t like when other ‘photographers’ take the exact same shot that I took.” I explained, and Leanne said that she had worried on our safari that I was annoyed with her for doing the same. I rolled my eyes at her and explained that’s different.

“Ohmigod! We were in the same jeep! That’s totally different! It’s animals. On a safari! Of course we’re going to take the same pictures! You weren’t on a walking tour waiting behind me to see which pictures I was going to take when others weren’t around and then take the same one!” I tried to explain myself, but later realized I probably sounded like a witch regardless.

Leanne teased me for the rest of the afternoon that she was going to take the same pictures or that she was going to take a picture too, when I had my camera ready. I figured, she didn’t think I was too big of a ‘witch’ if she was able to tease me about it.

In other ‘obnoxious photo news’ this Copper Street had tons of signs up that you couldn’t take photos or else had to pay the artisan who was hammering away at the metal first. I settled on these two shots and shrugged, not interested in taking any photos of the artisans or even buying anything if you had to simply pay to take a picture!

After a quick local lunch, we made our way out of the center towards the Sarajevo Tunnel and Museum. The family who owned the house during the siege, and today runs the museum despite the government wanting to take over. It’s pretty much just like that, rolling up to a house in the country and then going around the back where you watch a short film that’s mostly a montage of bombings in the city, the building of the tunnel, and then its use during the siege.

The indoor museum consisted of different rooms full of mortar shells, army uniforms, American army food rations, and a recreation of a section of the tunnel. There was also a photo wall displaying famous actors and politicians who have visited the tunnel.

The entrance of the tunnel remains open and visitors are able to walk a short length that still remains intact. I didn’t see any information about what happened to the rest of the tunnel. I’m assuming it has been closed and/or filled in.

It was a little too short for Andrew. I couldn’t stand up straight inside, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. Granted, we weren’t walking through it in the middle of a war, through rain and murky water below and exposed electrical lines above. It reminded me of being in a more advanced version of the Cu Chi Tunnels in Vietnam.

Afterwards, we all headed to the train and bus stations to check about tickets out of Sarajevo the next day. I was continually intrigued by the visible scars on the buildings from the war. In Korea, I would always think in the back of my mind how much the older people have lived through, how much they had seen, and I wondered what it was like for them to see the change. Here, in Sarajevo, those thoughts pretty much apply to anyone over the age of 10.

Day 311: Remember Srebrenica

Perhaps you noticed in some of the pictures of the Old Bridge in Mostar, there was a banner that read “Do Not Forget Srebrenica.” If you’re not familiar with The Srebrenica Massacre (in all honesty, I wasn’t before our arrival to Bosnia and Herzegovina) get ready for the briefest of brief history lessons: It was the July 1995 mass genocide of more than 8,000 Bosnian Muslims (mostly men and boys) in and around the small town of Srebrenica by the Republika Srpska army, commanded by General Ratko Mladić. The town of Srebrenica was supposed to be a safe area under protection by the United Nations, and witnessed an influx of refugees during the war from those seeking a safe haven. Unfortunately, the town was captured by the Repbulika Srpska and the 400 UN peacekeepers were able to leave before/during? the genocide that began to take place. This incident is a huge scar on the UN’s history. At first they denied that it had happened, and then with the discovery of mass burial sites, it was apparent justice had been lacking. I’m sure I’m leaving a lot of information out. The incident is overwhelming, to say the least, and being not only in Bosnia and Herzegovina, but in the Galerija 11/07/95 on the anniversary was moving.

The gallery was smaller than I thought it would be, but there were computers set up with multimedia programs that spelled out the chain of events in an incredibly detailed and informative way. And we were fortunate to have a really great guided tour, great, again, not in the exciting kind of way, but in the this-girl-knows-her-shit kinda way. Saliha (pictured on the right above with her friend and colleague at the Gallery) was incredibly informative and passionate about the events that took place and the events relating to the trials and the UN taking place today. I felt one tiny step closer to having a better understanding of what happened during the Bosnian War than I did before setting foot in the gallery. I thanked her afterwards and asked if I could take her picture (as pictures within the gallery weren’t allowed). She was kind enough to oblige. Thanks again for everything, Saliha!

We met up with Josh and Leanne afterwards for lunch, and then Andrew and I wandered around the downtown old town area while they went on the tour we did the day before. It was a low key day, one that we all appreciated, that and each other’s company. Have I mentioned how lovely it is to feel like we have friends again on this long journey around the world?

Day 309: Mostar and its bridge; JUMP!

A friend commented on an Instagram photo I had posted last week, asking if this place really exists. It does. And it’s beautiful. During the war, and after, without the bridge intact, it probably (ok, I’m sure it definitely wasn’t) as pristine looking… But now, thanks to the reconstruction of the bridge, and a growing young population ignoring the rules of the previously divided Croat vs. Bosnian sides,  the town seems (at least to my visitor’s eye) to be one again. Despite a plethora of tourists walking through the town during the day, it was a fraction of how crowded the streets were in Dubrovnik and Kotor. In the evening, only a handful of visitors roamed the cobblestoned alleyways and the town had a bit of magic in the air that gently reminded us both how lucky we were to be able to visit and enjoy this little town together.

We started our day in Mostar at the Museum of the Old Bridge. It’s on the small side, basically housed in one of the towers (Tara tower) and discusses the history of the original construction. It provides views of the bridge from above, a walk through the older underground sections below, and a bit on the destruction and reconstruction. I know, you might be a little surprised at my (our) interest in a museum dedicated to a bridge… But it really was quite fascinating. The architecture is pretty amazing and the history involving the destruction during the war is eye-opening. Normally, I might not suggest starting with a museum like this, but in this case, I highly recommend it.

Damage to the city, from the war, is still evident. Buildings like this one dotted the streets. Usually, when we visit a city devastated by war at some point in history, it’s so far in the past that only a museum serves as a reminder. You get an entirely different perspective when you look at a building crushed by a bomb or riddled with bullet and grenade holes.

Crossing the bridge, I was surprised to see a young man standing on the edge of the bridge, acting as if he was going to jump. I waited (as you can see in the video) and then got bored… waiting. As we walked past him, I asked if he was going to jump.

“If 25 euros are collected, then I will jump!” He answered.

“Ohhh, I see…” Andrew sighed. I rolled my eyes. He stood on the ledge all afternoon. He was there all throughout our next museum visit in the opposite tower. He got longer shorts when it looked as if it was going to rain, but still stood out on the ledge. He was even standing on the ledge a few hours later when we climbed up a minaret down the way for a different view of the bridge… I didn’t (and still don’t) understand their system. Why these boys don’t have an organized daily jump surprises me. It seems as though it would be a much better idea to have a daily jump at a specific time everyday. Ask the city if they will sponsor them, even if it’s just by printing flyers and advertising their daily jump on their tourist website. Pose for pictures before the jump. Jump. Collect donations afterwards. Boom. One hour and done. I’m sure they would even make more than 25 euros per jump!

Instead, dude stood around on a ledge of a bridge for at least four hours waiting for one person, or a crowd to take it upon themselves to collect 25 euros for him to jump. Lame. Unless he likes the attention, which could very well be his thing… but it didn’t look like he ever made any money standing on the ledge all afternoon…

We walked out of the old town to see what Mostar was like outside the historical/bridge area. The most interesting thing we saw was an abandoned building that looked as if it was a graffiti mecca. That, and judging by the amount of empty bottles of beer littered around the floor, that it was/is probably a local night haunt for Mostar teens.

We made our way back towards the old town, looking for the mosque with the minaret that had a wonderful view of the bridge and both banks of the river. Koskin-Mehmed Pasha’s Mosque is small, and we were told it is no longer in use, however a man was praying inside after we climbed down from the minaret.

You go to this mosque, not for the interior, but for the view of the town (and the bridge) from the minaret. Climbing the minaret wasn’t my most favorite thing to do, but once you get to the top, you’ll see that the short climb (going in circles in the dark) is worth it.

Towards dusk, we went around to the other side of the old town and sat at the water’s edge to take some pictures of the bridge at night.

I even set up the self-timer and scurried across the rocks to sit with Andrew for a few pictures of us. If I was looking at these pictures of another couple, I would roll my eyes. I told Andrew just that.

“Ohmigod, these pictures are sooo cheesy!” I started laughing at us.

“What? It’s not our fault our love is so adorable!” He responded, on his way into the bathroom, and then he promptly yelled at me that I had left a turd in the toilet.

“Well, I don’t know how it got there!” I just yelled back.

Day 308: Mondays are the worst. Unless…

It’s rather difficult to stay in a ‘Ten Month Travel Slump’ when this is what your Monday morning not only looks like, but involves before getting on a bus to jump countries in the afternoon. Mondays are the worst. Unless you’re on a ‘Round the World’ trip… and then, sometimes, Mondays are the best! We spent part of our early afternoon on this pebble beach inside a little cove on the outskirts of Dubrovnik’s Old Town. The rocks were hot. The water was not. And it was a little slice of heaven, just as beautiful as is in the picture.

It’s my humble opinion that Croatia has the prettiest water. Andrew could not stop talking about how pretty the water was between the islands in Greece. It is, also pretty. But Croatia is where the water is at. Just look at it!

The beach wasn’t too crowded, although when we left (towards 2ish) more and more people were arriving. My favorite part was watching everyone run across the too-hot-for-bare-feet rocks to get to the water. Only the water was quite cold, so everyone would stop suddenly, and let their bodies adjust to the temperature change, deciding which was worse: getting in the cold water or walking back across the hot beach to their towel or chair.

Young ones climbed up the bluffs and jumped into the sea, sometimes from quite high, sometimes making me squirm hoping they would jump far enough away from the cliffs. Needing to get going so we would make our bus into Bosnia and Herzegovina, we tore ourselves away from the beach as best we could. I have to admit, having had our sunscreen taken from us in Crete’s Airport (we forgot to put it in our checked luggage) it made leaving the burning sun a little easier. I took one last picture to remind myself what a ‘typical (even though on this trip, there really is no such thing) Monday’ on the road was like.

And then, a few hours later we were greeted like we were old friends by one of the sweetest hostel owners we have met so far. We felt so bad we were a little over an hour late arriving in Mostar, but Taso shrugged and told us not to worry. He informed us of the buses having GPS and he wasn’t waiting long. He whisked us off to his guesthouse, which really felt more like his house (in a really great way, not like staying in ‘the lady’s’ actual house in Dubrovnik). We had juice and cookies and he told us all about the town. We chatted like we were old friends, and I smiled at how great it is when you get to meet people for the first time and your interaction is so pleasant.

Taso talked about the old bridge that is the city’s main attraction. It was originally commissioned by Sultan Sulaiman the Magnificent in 1557, and survived all the way up until the war in 1993, when the bridge was bombed and destroyed. It has since been rebuilt and declared an UNESCO World Heritage site. (You can read more about the bridge here, if you’re interested)

I knew a little about this bridge (mostly relating to the war) before our arrival. I knew nothing about the bridge jumping that has become a rite of passage for the men (and some brave women) of the town. Taso told us that at just 25 meters above the water below, men would jump from the bridge, and women would give the man they liked a wreath of flowers afterwards, to signal wich one they liked the most. I asked if Taso had jumped off and he laughed, saying that he was too old to do it now. When he was younger, there was a wooden bridge in place of the older one that was bombed. He jumped off of that, but he suggested it wasn’t as high as the original (or current) bridge.

We walked through town to get an early dinner, above are some of the views of both sides of Mostar from the bridge. Beautiful, right?

Day 307: Walking the walls of Dubrovnik

Walking the walls of Dubrovnik is the number one thing to do. I remembered loving it a few years ago, but also being very (very very) hot when I went in the middle of the afternoon. We decided to go as late as we could to avoid the heat and the wave of other tourists. It’s supposed to take roughly an hour to walk the walls around the entire city. We tend to dawdle. We sit. We people watch. We take pictures. We talk (or, I talk and Andrew pretends to listen). It took us nearly two hours, but that was also considering we got caught in a downpour and had to wait out the rain as I didn’t want my camera (and my fancy lens) to get soaked. The price to get on the walls has gone up in the past few years, and might make someone on a budget cringe… but it’s worth it, and you won’t regret the leisurely stroll, the views, or the pictures you’ll have afterwards!

Our thirty minute walk to the old town was not without some beautiful scenes along the way. This fancy gated in pillar lined road caught our eye, we think it was to a university or a library of some sort. Then what looked to be an average residence also boasted a pillar lined walkway. We made the executive decision that our house shall also have a pillar lined walkway in the future. Maybe not the one we plan on finding in Brooklyn next year, but the one after that?

While waiting for the sun to go down a little more before we headed up to climb the walls, we strolled through more back alleyways. Some postcards in a shop doorway caught my eye. I ducked in and found out the shop was a relocated/former gallery (Galerija Sebastian Atlas Dubrovnik). I keep trying to buy smaller art (I have too much art for a girl without walls as it is) and settled on a postcard print of a painting by Zvonimir Lončarić.

We made our way up to the walls, hoping most of the ‘cruisers’ were making their way back onto their ship(s). It wasn’t as crowded as I thought it would be, but still a lot more crowded than it was when I walked the walls with my friend, Jess a few years ago.

The view of the city was beautiful, so I’ll let the pictures (the many, many pictures taken of similar rooftop scenery) speak for themselves:

Aren’t the little boys ready to ring the bell cute? There were lots of bells on the rooftops actually, and we wondered why. My guess was that they were used to warn other houses of danger, like a fire, perhaps?

Not even a third of the way around the city, we heard thunder in the distance. We could see the rain coming down further down the coast and hoped that it was moving in a direction that would magically avoid us on the walls. You can’t have a rainbow without some rain though, and a faint one appeared over the sea.

Thankfully, the walls above (and around) the city weren’t as crowded as the streets within. But the rain was moving towards us, and with about half of the walls to go, we weren’t sure we were going to be able to avoid it.

And then it poured. I tucked my camera under my arm and we stood under an overhang until the heaviest part passed. All of the sidewalk cafes cleared out and I had to tiptoe on the slick stones so I wouldn’t fall. We didn’t have too much left to go, and made it in time to meet Josh and Leanne and two of their friends visiting from ‘merica for dinner at the cafe at the foot of the mini Spanish steps.

We thought the prices were reasonable when we looked at the menu the day before. We didn’t take note of the price of beer. (Curses on our forgetfulness! For this is typically the best way to figure out if a restaurant is over-priced or not… knowing roughly how much a beer should cost.) In Kotor (Montenegro), an expensive beer within the walls was a little more than two euros. Usually at a store, a beer costs somewhere around 2-3 euros. We found out in Dubrovnik, an expensive beer within the walls was six whole euros.

I know, you might be thinking that six euros for a beer isn’t sooo bad… Especially if you’re on a short vacation (and you have a job that you receive a check from every other week). But again, when you’re traveling around the world for months on end… when you have ordered a beer for as little as $.25 in previous countries… it simply takes away from the experience a bit. Travel shouldn’t be tainted by expensive food and drink. I don’t foresee Dubrovnik losing visitors anytime soon. It’s a beautiful (stunning, gorgeous, lovely) city. But I do foresee Dubrovnik losing backpackers, students and/or budget travelers. I couldn’t have agreed more with what the cafe owner said the night before about needing a week to really see and appreciate Dubrovnik, but I’d rather spend my money elsewhere if it’s not going to get me very far in this beautiful walled-in city…

Before the end of the night, we took turns playing scenario (it made up for the six euro beers): 

Day 306: What happened to Dubrovnik?

Croatia was a vacation destination for the Czechs when I lived in Prague. That’s how I knew about it. Flights were too expensive to Greece and Turkey, so before I left Prague to move to Seoul, I went on one last trip with a girlfriend to Croatia. Dubrovnik was one of the highlights (we also visited Split, Trogir, and Hvar). This was in 2006. We went in August and it was glorious. There were tourists, sure, but it felt special and unique and like we were exploring a largely untouched place. We walked the walls of Dubrovnik under the burning summer sun and then sat at a sidewalk cafe within the city walls for hours drinking wine and dining on fresh seafood. After an evening full of house white, we got lost in the hillside maze outside of the walls trying to find our way to our rented room. In the end, a gracious cab driver called a friend of a friend and we eventually found our way to bed. It was one of my favorite days of travel. My eyes would glow whenever anyone mentioned Croatia, and I would go on (and on and on) about how they simply had to visit Dubrovnik.

Fast forward to today. It’s not the same. It’s still beautiful and downright stunning towards the evening when the majority of tourists are in their hotel rooms. But it’s ridiculously overpriced now, and during the day the amount of tourists are so overwhelming that it really takes away from the beauty of the old city. It made me wonder, what happened to Dubrovnik?

After getting kicked off of the bus in Kotor that Josh and Leanne were on, we inexplicably had to relocate to a much fuller bus to Dubrovnik and arrived a few hours later exhausted and hoping we would get a decent room for a decent price. Andrew left me with our bags at the bus station while he searched for a bathroom. Tired, and not wanting to deal with those asking if I needed a place to stay, I decided to lowball everyone who asked if I needed a room.

“Ten euro per person?” I asked the woman shouting at me, inches away from my face, “Lady, you need room?”

She suggested an apartment for sixty euro per night, or a private room for forty euro. I shook my head. I wasn’t annoyed, just tired. I motioned to our backpacks and said “This is all we have. Ten euro per person, or go find someone else.” I thought, if nothing else, she would leave me alone and Andrew could take the lead when he returned.

Another apartment owner came up and asked if I knew what I was saying, “Ten euro?!” he asked over and over again, laughing at the idea. I held my ground, again, simply tired, and waiting for Andrew to return with a better idea.

“Okay, okay, ten euro per person!” The woman yelled, again, only inches away from my face. Andrew returned and I shrugged. He shrugged, and we agreed to at least go look at it. I whispered that he could be ‘bad cop’ and say we couldn’t stay if he wanted.

In the car en route to our room, she would say things like “Here, 15 minute walking to old town!” and then keep driving. “Here to the beach!” and keep driving. “Here bus to station.” and keep driving. “Here hotel is my neighbor.” and keep driving. We ended up being about a thirty-forty  minute walk away from the old town. We arrived to the woman’s house and waited while the bed was made in the spare room.

“We can go somewhere else!” I whispered to Andrew, completely aware that we were staying in this loud woman’s house, not even disguised as a more legitimate guesthouse.

“It’s ok…” Andrew replied (just as tired as I was) and we went in our room when the bed was made to take a nap before exploring around the city. An hour later, a man walked into our room, and then shouted “Pardon! Pardon!” as he closed the door as quickly as he could. We were too tired to even be bothered by the intrusion.

Into the evening we finally made our way towards the walled in ‘old town.’ It was then the change of Dubrovnik slapped me in the face.

“A bottle of water is THREE EUROS.” Andrew came out of a convenient store flabbergasted. We weren’t even within the walls of the old city. Usually a litre and a half of water is less than one euro. I sighed, taking note of the crazy amount of tourists everywhere.

We walked into the old city and I suggested we find the alleyway Jess and I dined for hours on end during my last visit. We found the alley, and promptly found the ridiculously overpriced menus that accompanied the beautiful cafes. My shoulders slumped, disappointed I wouldn’t be able to share the same magical experience with Andrew this time around. We walked out of the old town and found a pizza place Andrew later insisted wasn’t as good as the pizza by the slice joint we went to in Kotor.

We walked around, stopping short of a smaller version of the Spanish steps in Rome. One restaurant owner gave us a flyer, insisting we wouldn’t be sorry if we stopped. He sounded North American. I asked him about his accent, and he said he had spent several years in California, but having been born in Dubrovnik, he returned to run his (family’s?) restaurant. I told him I had been in Dubrovnik several years ago, and said it seemed so… different… I asked when it had changed.

“Around 2006 he answered. All of the cruisers started to stop here then. Are you on a cruise ship?” He asked, stopping himself.

“No.” I smiled, thinking how different our mode of transportation usually is.

“I didn’t want to offend you… But we don’t really like the cruisers. They come and spend one day walking around and you really need more time than that to get a feel for the city… Since they started coming, things have changed a lot.” He replied. I told him it was nice to talk to him and that I hoped we would be able to eat at his restaurant tomorrow before I climbed the steps with Andrew.

We sat outside of the  Church of St. Ignatius mostly watching two boys kick a ball back and forth. Their future might not include professional football, but they sure were fun to watch in the present. Still tired, we made our way back out of the old town to our room in ‘the lady’s’ (as we liked to call her) house. On our way back, I wondered if I knew one of the persons walking towards town. I knew I was tired, but I also knew I’d be kicking myself if I didn’t ask.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry, but is your name Riley?” I asked the poor guy minding his own business making his way towards the old town.

“Yes.” He answered, and I knew it was my friend from college. I took off my sunglasses and smiled apologetically to the woman he was with.

“Riley, it’s Liz, from Loyola.” I smiled. He let out a string of expletives and gave me a huge hug. We introduced our significant others and caught up on life since we saw each other last and finally wished each other well on our travels. They were leaving the next day for Hvar, and I was too tired to suggest continuing a reunion somewhere other than the sidewalk that we were on. The world is small, and running into a familiar (even if it’s been awhile) face made me smile and it certainly made Andrew shake his head in amusement.

Day 305: Climbing the fortifications of Kotor

Kotor is lovely. It’s even more lovely after the daily cruise ship departs in the afternoon. We decided to wait until it was gone before we climbed up to the top of the fortifications of Kotor. You know how to tell you’ve been traveling for awhile? When you become more mouthy towards the person(s) charging an entrance fee for something you weren’t expecting to be charged for.

“Is this for real, or did you just put this table here and start collecting money?” Andrew asked the woman sitting behind a table, under an umbrella with what appeared to be a fan mounted on the outside of her house blowing warm air over her.

She was less than impressed. As were we, when an overly enthusiastic tourist informed us “It’s not so expensive, and it’s totally worth the view.”

I’m fairly positive there was a collective rolling of the eyes from me, Andrew, Josh, and Leanne. Not that we didn’t believe the view would be worth it, but at his enthusiasm over us paying a fee. A fee that might be small to him, but to us, after traveling for 10-16 months… Well, let’s just say they add up. We paid, and then started climbing the 1,350 stairs up. in flip flops. with a bum heel, still, because I have yet to reunite with my Nikes (currently awaiting my arrival in England).

Along the way up, we heard a North American accent judge us all for our choice of shoes. (Three of us were wearing flip flops.) I didn’t realize she was talking about us until Leanne laughed about it. Had I known she was talking about us, I would have talked in an equally loud voice so she could have easily overheard my conversation. I would have elaborated (loudly) about my sheer stupidity for keeping the wrong pair of ‘gym shoes’ (barefoot water shoes) instead of my Nike running shoes. And how if it were not for being over budget on my trip around the world, I would have gladly bought shoes that other judgmental tourists might approve of.

I love rooftops like these. Why can’t we have similar pretty tiled roofs in Kentucky? There’s so much more character to them than shingles!

Before Andrew and I got to the top (my heel tends to slow us down) Josh peeked his head out of an opening in the fortification from above, and waved, reminding Andrew of the Monty Python and the Holy Grail. They laughed and Josh admitted to channeling the movie.

On our way down, I introduced ‘Scenario’ to Josh and Leanne. ‘Scenario’ (in case I haven’t explained it before, or you’re new to the blog) is a game that my friend, Lindsay taught me where you give fun/funny scenarios instead of the usual “Say cheese!” before taking a picture. Josh’s first scenario: He just walked in on Andrew trying on my delicates in our shared apartment.

Josh wanted to practice giving a scenario. It was something along the lines of someone being extra smelly. I was pointing to Andrew.

Day 304: Montenegro, What country is that in?

Today was my sister’s birthday! (Yay! Happy Birthday Gina!) So, I of course, spent most of the day reminding myself to call her and NOT to forget. This can sometimes be a process. When we were in Korea, it was always easy to know what time I could call someone stateside. Now that we are jumping time zones so often, it can be difficult. There are at least four different times on my computer so I can keep track of what time it is where. I called. I missed her. She emailed. I called again.

“So where are you now?” She asked.

“Montenegro.” I told her.

“What country is that in?”

“It is the country.” I confirmed, relieved when she cracked up at herself.

“Oh! Well where is it?”

“You know how there is a sea on the right side of Italy ? (I explained, as if she were looking at a map) It’s on the other side of that sea, the Adriatic.”

“So above Greece?”

“Yea, above Greece.”

“Ok, I know where you are now.”

It seems as though Montenegro has been blowing up lately on the tourist circuit. Staying inside the walls of Kotor Stari Grad (Old City) we were getting used to the amount of tourists rolling in off of their giant cruise ship for the day, flooding the little city, walking around in big groups- too big to walk together through some of the narrow passageways. We decided to get out of dodge and headed up the coast to see some of the other smaller towns along the Bay of Kotor. First, we headed to Risan, the oldest settlement on the bay:

Risan was quiet and without any other tourists, which was a nice change. But there wasn’t much to do… Except, perhaps to see the Roman mosaics. They are ancient, and I get that, but I’m a bigger fan of the Ottoman mosaics myself.

In the middle of the bay, Our Lady of the Rocks Church sits on a man-made island of rocks and sunken ships full of rocks. The other islet holds the Saint George Benedictine monastery and apparently a cemetery for old nobility around Kotor Bay. We didn’t go to either, but instead admired from afar. We mostly walked along the seaside through Perast. It, too, was quiet. A few other tourists roamed the street, but not many, and even fewer people roamed the streets when it started raining.

Day 303: Overcoming the 10 Month Travel Slump

We woke up in beautiful Kotor, Montenegro. After driving through a buzzing Budva the night before, we were grateful we were staying down the coast inside the walls of a slightly smaller, and much less crowded version of Dubrovnik. After lucking out meeting Vladimir and Marija in Belgrade, and starting to break out of the ‘slump,’ both Andrew and I were looking forward to reuniting with our ‘Round the World’ travel buddies, Josh and Leanne. (We went on safari together in Tanzania, and then met up again in Turkey just in case you forgot.) Meeting up with friends while we’re traveling is one thing. Making new friends on our travels is another, wonderful thing. But meeting up with friends, who are also on a trip around the world, in country #3 is a whole new amazing ballgame. Because not only do we get to feel like we really do have friends, but we have friends who get it. Who get what it’s like to travel around the world. Who get that it’s amazing, but sometimes hard. Who get the 10 Month Travel Slump. Even when you wake up to a beautiful city in a brand new country that you can’t wait to explore.

We had a few (ok, many) heart to hearts. We agreed how strange it is to travel around the world but at times feel like we’re missing out on so much back ‘home.’ How annoying our schedules are and how much our diet changes. How wonderful a good salad can be. How we’re tired a LOT of the time. How annoying expensive countries are after traveling through particularly inexpensive ones. Leanne and I totally related to each other being absolutely sick of our clothes. You know that feeling when you open your closet (full of clothes) and groan how you have nothing to wear? Imagine only having a backpack. Uh… yea… I don’t think I’ll ever complain about a closet full of clothes again.

We laughed about how weekends can be the worst. No one emails us on the weekends. If we were home, and following a ‘normal’ schedule, we wouldn’t even notice, but while traveling, days of the week aren’t exactly kept track of. If I wake up to no new messages, chances are it’s a Saturday. We joked about when the best time to put a status up on Facebook is. Monday mornings. That’s when we’re most likely to get some love from everyone we miss talking to or seeing on a regular basis. We all agreed, probably no one reads our blogs, wondered why no one comments, and promised each other we would comment on each other’s just to make each other feel better. Maybe we shouldn’t be hurt when we don’t hear from close friends, but we sometimes are. This led to something of a debate whether or not we will have the same relationships we had when we left.

They gave us an unintentional pep talk (mostly just by understanding the slump) about the trip. They revealed they went through their own 10 month travel slump, but then they showed us why we’re all doing this crazy, amazing adventure, by a wonderful montage they made of their trip (so far). Andrew and I both watched it in awe, smiling and pointing out places we’ve also been, or asking if it was where we thought it was. I thought it was so amazing of them for doing the trip, and then I remembered ‘Oh yea, I’m doing that too!’ and suddenly everything felt possible and wonderful and I felt so grateful I was doing the exact same thing they were doing. It was a really incredible feeling to have realized I couldn’t say “Ohmigod, that’s awesome, I wish I was doing that!” because I already am doing it. WE are doing it, maybe a bit poorly lately (not being as enthusiastic about it as we should) but we’re doing it! And now that we’re well on our way of overcoming the 10 month travel slump, we’ll be back on top of the world in no time!

In case you’re trying to overcome your own ten month travel slump, or you’re curious how our wonderful friends, Josh and Leanne helped us get out of our’s, you can check out their video, here:

Meanwhile, in Kotor, there was an art festival for children going on. There were a few different art installations set up around the city. The giant hanging laundry outside of a church in the walled in old town was my favorite. Maybe I was just super excited that a washing machine came with the apartment the four of us rented and I didn’t have to wash anything by hand…

Day 301: an extra day in Belgrade

We decided to stay an extra day in Belgrade because we were slightly rained out the day before, and well, we loved our hosts. We probably could have done a lot more with an extra day in the city, but we enjoyed walking around and people watching, and then looked forward to dinner with Marija and Vladimir and then, bonus: Vladimir’s adorable brother. Andrew asked about what life was like during the war, a bit hesitant if it would be a touchy subject. Vladimir kinda laughed at us and said it was a bit of the elephant in the room and that they expected most couchsurfer guests to ask about it. It was interesting to hear how mostly, in Marija’s case, she remembered being bored at her Grandmother’s house outside of the city.The bombings were mostly spot on their government building targets that school would be canceled and… well in a very broad sense, that was it. They asked us what we thought about it, and didn’t judge me when I basically said I was preoccupied with high school,  learning how to drive, and didn’t know much about the situation. Sometimes I feel a bit silly, at how much of a bubble I have lived in (in America). I also continually wish I had paid more attention to my History classes and wish I had made it a point of keeping up on my current events more. Learning so much everyday on this trip is great, as long as you can ignore how much of an idiot you are for not already knowing (or remembering) it.

One of my favorite parts of our conversation was when we mentioned our plan to travel until Thanksgiving. Andrew asked if they knew about American Thanksgiving. Our new favorite Serbian friends promptly made fun of him for asking, insisting that they’ve seen Friends. I assured them that it’s tradition that someone must get the turkey stuck on their head every year. (wink wink) Vladimir’s brother thought for a minute and then agreed, he had seen it on Grey’s Anatomy.

As a former English teacher, and somewhat lazy language learner myself, it continues to amaze me how much English (and culture in some cases) others are able to pick up from American television shows. Then Andrew and I both admitted that so many Americans can be too lazy to watch foreign language films.

We were laughed at again.

“But, that’s how you watch a movie!” Marija or Vladimir exclaimed.

“Not in America… We remake the entire movie!” Andrew shook his head.

Day 300: Travel Angels in Belgrade

I’m not sure if Marija and Vladimir really exist. Because I’m pretty sure they were angels sent down by the travel gods to remind us why we are doing this epic trip around the world. I mean, obviously they are real people. They are real, wonderful, lovely, hospitable Serbians that were a breath (of very much needed) fresh air. We woke up to a home-cooked Serbian breakfast and more enjoyable conversation. So enjoyable in fact, that they lit’rally had to remind us that we were there to see their city, not to hang out in their apartment the entire time! And off we went, to walk around town and see the Belgrade Fortress.

We walked through the main street in town, enjoying the relaxed nature of the city. Granted, it was a Sunday, but it was so calm and enjoyable! People were out and about walking their dogs, playing with their kids, having coffee (or beer) with friends. It was lovely. Andrew and I agreed that it was the city (so far) in the Balkans that we would pick to live in. Nothing against the others, there was just a more gentle, relaxed vibe here that we both noticed immediately.

We headed to the Fortress and sat people watching most of the time. The weather was beautiful right up until we timed it perfectly to sit down and have a coffee. And, then it rained. We used the weather as a good excuse to look for new shorts for Andrew (ok, I’ll admit it, and to look at the sale prices in Zara for me) and then, when we couldn’t figure out where the movie theater was in town (to see if Despicable Me 2 was playing), we headed back to Marija and Vladimir’s.

If you missed Day 299, you should know that it was a rough day, nearing the end of a bit of a difficult month of travel. Not the month specifically, nor the wonderful places we visited, but more like the length of this trip hitting me hard. Staying with Marija and Vladimir could not have come at a better time. Whenever we tell people (especially Americans) unfamiliar with this network, they usually gape and question our level of crazy for showing up to a STRANGER’S(!) house in a foreign country to spend the night. We’re familiar with this response. Pretty much everyone who is on couchsurfing is also familiar with this response, and we all laugh about it together. But the truth is, we’ve had a really wonderful experience with it and staying with Marija and Vladimir is no different. We went out for dinner, and again, stayed up later than we (at least Andrew and myself) usually do chatting. We tried to express how grateful we were to have met them, but they shrugged it off, not taking us seriously at all. Later, I had to restrain myself from giving them a big (huge) hug goodnight.

I went to bed thinking not of how hard Month 10 has been, but how wonderful this opportunity (and MANY opportunities along the way) to meet them has been. Sometimes on this trip, our emotions get crazy. They swing back and forth from one extreme to the other, and I have to remind myself of that before I inform Andrew that I’m ready to jump ship. Or maybe, I have to remind myself to thank him for not taking me too seriously.

Day 299: Traveling around the world is no holiday

You know that feeling you get in the middle of winter (granted, that feeling you get when you live somewhere that gets cold for months on end) and you’re just not… happy. There’s nothing particularly bad going on in your life, it’s just… winter and chances are you’re lacking Vitamin D or something and you’re just a little sad and you feel a bit lethargic? That’s what Month 10 has been feeling like. Again, being sick – then Andrew waking up with similar sick-ish feelings – then finding out we got a speeding ticket in South Africa- then finding out Citibank has been charging me up to $20 for each ATM withdraw. It hasn’t been good. I’ve found myself all through Month 10 going through the motions of getting up, packing our bags, and walking around a new town following a strange, but somewhat set routine. I was going through the motions much like I used to do going into work everyday. Only, we’d be in a different country every couple of weeks (sometimes days) walking around so much beauty and history and learning so much more than I ever did going to the same job day after day. It made me stop and think. I wondered if continuing this epic trip really WAS worth it or not, especially if I was being so blasé about it. It sounds crazy, I know. Many people think traveling around the world is a never-ending vacation. It must always be easy and magical and awesome, right? But the truth is- it’s SO MUCH HARDER and more challenging than I thought it would be. And sometimes – quite simply – there are days like these. Traveling around the world is no holiday.

I debated quitting the trip. Really, I did. Instead of my goal to finish a children’s book about a girl from Kentucky going around the world- what if I were to rewrite The Little Engine that Could. Only, it would be The Little Engine that Couldn’t. I mean, who needs to achieve things? What’s wrong with QUITTING? I even wondered what the point of continuing this blog everyday was. The last time I posted about a bad day (in India, involving pushy tuk-tuk drivers) I got a somewhat negative comment that the reader didn’t appreciate my lack of optimism and excitement about this trip. I tried to explain I still was excited, but it was a bad day, and especially in India, bad days happen. I reminded myself that I am NOT a travel writer (even though I KNOW travel writers have bad days, too). I’m a photographer. an artist. I wanted to document this trip as it really is- as it really can be- not a blog that sugar coats travel, the challenges involved, you know… life.

I figured I would keep traveling, but continued to debate blogging about it. Maybe that one commenter was right, who wants to read about bad travel days? I tried to convince Andrew that no one really reads the blog anyway… But he didn’t buy it. He was all “You’ve done it for this long and you’re going to quit now?”

“Yep.” I responded, obviously letting my emotions get the best of me.

I lusted after a group of friends drinking coffee outside in a cafe and told Andrew, “I wish I had friends…”  He reminded me that I have them. I grumbled that it didn’t feel like it.

I checked my Instagram feed. Usually this makes me feel better. I cooed (Lit’rally, cooed) over an adorable baby picture that my friend posted. I nodded my head in agreement at one of the comments declaring adorable pictures like this one were making her baby crazy. And then narrowed my eyes when I saw that the new mom had urged her Instagram friend to “Do it” as in “Do it, have a baby.” Like it’s THAT easy. Sure, the picture makes me a little baby crazy too, and I’d like to have a baby, too- someday. But right now, I’m busy!

If you follow ME on Instagram, you’ll see just how busy I am, playing ‘Edward mug-hands’ in Bucharest. Visiting Dracula’s Castle just outside of Brasov. Photographing street art in Belgrade. And more recently roaming the streets of Montenegro and now, Croatia. I’m trying to tackle my dream of traveling around the world for one year, even if it includes trying to ignore the fact that I have a pending speeding ticket in South Africa. I have a pile of expensive American Citibank ATM fees that I haven’t had the chance to sit on a long distance phone call to the bank to take care of. I have worn the same five outfits for the past ten months. I haven’t slept in the same bed for more than three (ok, maaaaybe four) nights in a row. I can’t even go out for dinner without doing some kind of currency conversion to figure out if I can afford to eat at that particular restaurant or not. And now Instagram is telling me to “Do it, have a baby!”

As if Facebook wasn’t enough pressure, NOW Instagram, too?!?

This is my dream. This is my dream. To travel around the world for one year. I’m doing it. It’s really hard sometimes, but I can do it. 

I tried to remind myself over and over again.

Andrew could tell I wasn’t in a good place. He tried to remind me how many people might not be able to relate to our feelings on this trip and perhaps they have a different view of it entirely than we do- especially on our worst day.

I’m sure he was (is) right. He usually is (even if I don’t admit it to him).

I recently wished a friend (on Facebook, of course) ‘Happy Birthday’ I told him I hoped it was awesome.

He responded “Not as awesome as a year long vacation!”

I yelled at my ipod, “VACATION?!? YOU THINK THIS IS A VACATION? THIS ISN’T A VACATION!”

I told Andrew about it. He laughed. And agreed, but reminded me how much we’re going to miss it when it’s over. I sighed. Again, knowing how right he is. He went into his usual pep-talk about this trip and all that we have learned from it. About us, and what we’ve managed to survive together. About how bored we’re going to be days when we get back to ‘merica, but how we’ll appreciate it so much more because we haven’t had a home for so long and how we haven’t been surrounded by friends for so long and how we haven’t had a coffee shop or a bar where we can simply walk in and say “I’ll take the usual” and they’ll know what we’re talking about. And not because we both speak English, but because we saw them last week and the week before that, and we ordered the SAME thing!

I heard him out and eventually I tried to focus my attention on all of the positive of this trip, instead of the ten months without a home and the related feelings that were starting to suffocate me. I focused on the emails from my friends (and family) that DO stay in touch and tried to forget about the ones who really haven’t. I focused on those who have said “Thanks!” for postcards I have sent home. I focused on Andrew’s Dad (yes, you!) who I know appreciates reading this blog (even though I know he won’t like hearing how stressed I was on this particular day). He constantly tells Andrew how much he enjoys it, and that makes me want to continue working on it.

I reminded myself of the day we spent at Angkor Wat, the day we arrived in Kathmandu and got incredibly lost only to find our way again. I remembered paragliding over the Annapurna and then finding a hole in the wall Korean restaurant after. I remember seeing the Taj Mahal for the first time and it taking my breath away, and then a month later celebrating New Years Eve in the desert outside of Dubai. I thought of Petra, the Western Wall in Jerusalem, floating in the Dead Sea, meandering through the medinas in Morocco. Sub-saharan Africa and going on not one, but two safaris. Spending a day with the Masai. I thought of meeting up with fellow travelers in Istanbul, motorbiking around Santorini, and now jumping around the Balkan States on a whim (because it’s cheaper than jumping around Western Europe).

I thought of Andrew and how lucky I have been to share all of these amazing, wonderful, beautiful moments on this trip and told myself that this day, shall too, pass.

They always do.

I find sleep (and sometimes a beer and/or a good cheeseburger) and meeting wonderful people helps.

And that’s exactly what happened. We arrived in a rainy Belgrade (from Timisoara, Romania) well after dark, but were welcomed with open arms into our latest couchsurfer hosts’ abode. Before I could even continue thinking about how hard Month 10 has been, we were recounting all of our adventures to our new friends, Vladimir and Marija. They excitedly listened like we were all old friends and both Andrew and I became equally excited hearing about their upcoming trip to The United States. It was even a bit encouraging listening to their professional accomplishments, and hearing how awesome they thought WE were for taking a chance and doing this trip. We stayed up late talking and when we finally went to sleep, Andrew and I exchanged a smile that was so full of gratitude we didn’t quite know what to do with ourselves. Other than, of course, sleep a bit better than we have in awhile…

Day 298: Sibiu to Timișoara

I still wasn’t feeling super hot, but didn’t want to lose another day that could otherwise be spent feeling awesome in the future along the coast. So, we spent the day on an old European train from Sibiu to Timisoara. We got in towards the evening and after we dropped off our bags, Andrew refused to let me crawl in a bunk and go to sleep, insisting that eating would make me feel better. It did, kinda, and then I crawled into bed. Not before our hostel offered us free shots of Rakia. My stomach turned. My head throbbed a little more at the thought, but I smiled, said thanks, and encouraged Andrew to accept one while I snuck back into the dorm room. The sweet (super, super sweet) girl at the hostel then offered me tea instead, but a pillow and my yak-wool scarf were all I wanted.

Whenever we’re sick, or tired or frustrated with a day or the trip for some reason or another, one of us will ask the other, “Do you want to go home?”

We always say “No.”

Except, this time I responded, sadly “We don’t even have a home…”

It’s usually a joke. But the trip has started hitting me a little harder lately, and not feeling well certainly wasn’t helping matters.