Portland is a Sunny/Foggy Place

[Note: I wrote this a few weeks ago, and have been waiting to post until I got my photos back from Walgreen's so I could put them in. Apologies.]

I took this weekend off to take a trip up to Portland, Maine for some cycling, and it was great! For whatever reason, I seem to have some ingrained desire to always go as far north as possible (see: recent trip to Arctic Circle). I think it would be so cool to be a polar explorer. It must be that “seasonal-inferiority-complex” you get from living in a place like Texas, where we only have hot and hotter (okay, well maybe it’s not that simple).

Anyways, on Friday I caught a ride up to Portland with my boss Mark, who was heading up there for business meeting. He dropped me off at the Elms, the bed and breakfast I was staying at. The B&B was in this really old, creepy house, it looked straight out of a cheap 60s horror movie. It was very elegant and mysterious, like the house in Clue. I was in the top room, called the Bear Cave, complete with a mini-library and writing desk. Just my type of place.

But I didn’t stick around long and hopped on my bike. I found a sweet route online that swings by all the major lighthouses in the area. So after stopping at a CVS to buy a disposable camera (my digital died on me back in Italy) and grabbing a quick bite to eat at a vegan café run by Seventh-day Adventists, I headed out. The tour was really neat. It took me by four lighthouse spread out over about thirty-five miles, along some really scenic roads through forest, beach, and marsh. The whole time I kept thinking how beautiful the area was. And not to mention the great weather, which was a strange combination between fog and sun.

I got back to my B&B exhausted and starving. After a much needed shower, I chatted with Scott, the inn’s proprietor, about the best place to get good seafood, and he promptly directed to me Jay’s Raw Bar. It turned out to be this little hole-in-the-wall joint in the old port area of the town next to a handful of real glitzy tourist traps. But it was the real deal, packed to the gills with locals speaking with accents so thick it sounded like another language. After waiting around for a few minutes I was able to grab a seat at the bar. Right as I was ordering a drink, Scott from my B&B sat down next to me! He had decided to take his own advice and come to Jay’s himself. So we ate dinner together, talking about Portland, and college, and travel, and whatnot. Really nice guy.

And of course, I had the lobster, and all ethical concerns aside about boiling your dinner alive, it was absolutely delicious. I’ve never had it before, so I couldn’t resist since I was in Maine and all. I’ve thought about cooking lobster myself (it’s pretty easy), but I just don’t think I could actually put the poor critter in the pot. I would feel so bad, looking at his sad face as I dropped him in the boiling water, and then hearing him tink tink tink on the side of the pot until he had finally, uhm, expired. But having someone else do it is an entirely different story.

After supper, I headed back to the inn for some sleep, but not before grabbing a cone of ice cream. The next morning, I woke up in time for breakfast downstairs in the dining room, which was some powerful good bacon and waffles. I haven’t had a proper breakfast like that since being in Boston, and I had forgotten just how nice it is. I got to chat with the other folks staying there, who were all really nice. I like talking to strangers I think. It’s scary at first, but once you get over that initial awkwardness, the conversation tends to get along pretty well by itself.

After breakfast, I packed my things, checked out, and biked into town. I really enjoyed riding my bicycle everywhere, it was neat and different way to tour a city. I tried to drop my bag off at the Amtrak station, only to find that they don’t have any left luggage services. So I had to go across the street and check my bag at the Greyhound station instead. Greyhound 1, Amtrak 0. I took out my trusty Rough Guide to New England and selected a few choice activities for the day, including the art museum, the Portland Observatory, and book shopping. The art museum was quite nice, and I was able to get in with a free tour of the place, which was a double-plus. The observatory was also very neat. It’s actually a signal tower built in the early 1800s, used to spot ships coming into port. There were lots of neat history and facts about the area. For instance, before the modern era of telecommunication, people would walk up and down the coast near Portland at night during the dead of winter to check for signs of shipwrecks, so that they could then send out lifesaving crews. Amazing! I also visited some antique bookstores, and was able to buy some sweet postcards from the early 1900s. The store had boxes of them, some with messages already on them and some without. I felt like such a voyeur, reading these dispatches sent to friends and family long ago, but I couldn’t help myself. I hope that some of my postcards find there way into a bookstore some day too.

But alas, my time in Portland had to come to an end. After spending a few final moments on the docks, I reluctantly pedaled to the train station to head back to Boston. I don’t particulary know why I liked Portland so much. I mean, it’s not like it exactly has much to offer in the way of tourism, but for whatever reason the place just resonated with me. To be honest, the town felt like a prosperous Waco. And that may be why I liked it so much, because it reminded me of home.

Colmar / Prague / Switzerland / Frieburg / Vienna / Munich

Ok, here we go. Four weekends in one post. Let’s see how this works out.

Colmar, France: Skylar, Steven, Aaron, Molly, Julia, Christy and I went to this quaint (okay Christy and Molly, the town is cute) little town in the Alsace region of France. The whole place looks like La Madelaine, very nice. Also very expensive. It was actually cheaper for us to stay in a hotel than rent beds in a hostel. We saw the wonderful Musee d’Unterlinden housed in an old monastery. The highlight of the collection is the Issenheim altarpiece, this amazing five or six part painting depicting, among other things, St. Anthony being tempted by some creature that must have inspired “Where the Wild Things Are.” The painting was beautiful, a really neat piece of art. It was weird to see all these people there discussing it in a secular sense, as some dead piece of history, when to me it is still so profoundly alive and spiritual. I thought that was sad. We also did a nice self-guided walking tour of the town, saw a cool water tower and cathedral and generally enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Prague, Czech Republic: Boys trip this time, Skylar, Aaron, Steven, and I. We took a sleeper train to Prague, shared our berth with “Smelly-snoring-man.” It was not the most comfortable night. Prague is a really beautiful town, lots of high baroque architecture with a really cool “astronomical clock.” Actually, Prague had a lot going on for it in the way of clock towers. We spent two days there, did the walking tour, watched blue-grass bands perform on the St. Charles Bridge, saw the old Jewish quarter with it’s ridiculous cemetery, and drank the best beer of my life. It was so good. One night we went to a jazz club, and met a very drunk Norwegian who claimed to be “the last viking.” He offered to take us up to his room for some “drinks,” but having seen one too many slasher flicks, we politely declined. I will say that the town felt a little touristy and trashy sometimes, like they were really trying to cash-in on their new-found status as the “it” place in Europe right now. I think it will be a really amazing city in about ten years when it has calmed down a bit and “grown up” a bit.

Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland: Meghan and I went to Lauterbrunnen for a day to enjoy some hiking in the Alps. Out friends mercilessly made fun of us for going on a couples weekend–even though we aren’t a couple, to which my lady-friend in Waco can attest. Switzerland is profoundly beautiful, and our hostel was situtated right in the middle of this huge glacier carved valley beneath the Eiger and Jungfau peaks. We spent the day hiking and cable-carring from village to village, sampling the local cheese and chocolate, marveling and God’s glorious creation. I particularly enjoyed the culture, everyone was a farmer and lived idyllic lives as cattle-herders and cheese-makers. It made me want to do that myself, actually.

Frieburg, Germany: On our way back from Switzerland, we stopped off in Frieburg to check out the Black Forest. We stayed at an amazing hostel built in an old warehouse that had musical instruments and a library. Frieburg reminded me a lot of Colmar actually, very quaint and picturesque, with neat little guard towers all of the place. The Black Forest itself was fairly anti-climactic, but that was perhaps because we had just left the Alps. I would like to go back again in the summer time when things are blooming and the trees are green.

Vienna, Austria: For Easter break, Justin, Sarah, Sandy, and I went to Vienna and then Munich. Vienna has been my favorite city so far, like Prague, but classy. The Viennese really know how to live The Good Life. For instance, Vienna is the home of such great luxuries as the coffeehouse and the chicken-fried steak. Thanks to the plundering ways of the Hapsburgs, they also have some of Europe’s finest museums. I particularly enjoyed the royal treasury, which had Napoleon’s cradle, and also Schönbrunn Palace, the 1,400 room summer residence of the royal family, making me wonder what their normal place must have been like!

Munich, Germany: After a day in Prague, we headed off to Munich to sample the beer and see the sights. Sarah got sick and had to go home, but I will say 10 out of 10 to the German health-care system—she didn’t have to pay a dime for the doctor to see her at midnight the day before Easter. Munich is the heart of Bavaria, which is where most of our German stereotypes come from: beer, lederhosen, oompah bands, fabulous wealth, and of course, Nazis. Justin and I took the free walking tour sponsored by our hostel, which was really good. After the tour, we went out to a beer hall with our tour-guide, drank excellent beer from a comically oversized stein, ate sausage, and talked about the holocaust with an Israeli and a black Bavarian. That afternoon we also visited Dachau, a former concentration camp. It was strange being there, in the actual place where so many terrible things were done, and then juxtaposing that to how nice of a place Germany is today.

And that was my last weekend trip. Class ended a few days ago, and we are now into our first few days of “the Month” of travel! It’s been a whirlwind so far, and I can’t believe that I won’t be going back to Maastricht until the end of April, the day before we leave for the US. On one hand, I wish I had spent more time in Maastricht, soaking up its culture and history, but on the other hand, I have got to see so much. It amazes me to think that as a 21-year old, I will have seen the Western World. I have been truly blessed with these opportunities: thanks Mom, Dad, God.

As I mentioned though, we are now starting the Month. From the end of finals until the end of April we have off to go do as we please, so we’ve planned a grand tour of Europe. Here is my prospective itinerary:

Part I: TO THE NORTH
Copenhagen, Denmark
Bergen, Norway
Oslo, Norway
The Lofoten Islands, Norway – north of the Arctic Circle
Stockholm, Sweden

Part II: Wine and Tapas
Paris, France
Tours, France
Madrid, Spain
Seville, Spain
Barcelona, Spain

Part III: Is it Spelled Hercules or Heracles?
Cinque Terra, Italy
Roma, Italy
Florence, Italy
Corfu, Greece
Santorini, Greece
Athens, Greece

It’s highly ambitious, but I think we can do it! Wish us luck!

Berlin

I’m going to try and get caught up with posting this week. That unfortunately means, however, that the quality of these next few posts might not be that great. So, apologies in advance to the two of you who read this (Mom, Dad).

A few weekends ago Justin, Sarah, Molly, Christy, Sandy, and I went to Berlin. The city is so new and sparkling and well, un-European, if I may say so. Since it was practically destroyed during WWII, and then totally neglected during the Cold War, everything seemed to be younger than I am. It felt alot like the trendier parts of Dallas or Austin. Every now and then, however, you would stumble across places of immense historical significance — the spot where Hitler committed suicide, leftover sections of the Berlin Wall, the hotel where Michael Jackson dangled his baby out the window. It was surreal to see epic pieces of the past juxtaposed to the humdrum of living in the present.

On Saturday we took the New Berlin Free Walking Tour, which was great. The guides work on a tip-only basis, so they do a really good job. We saw all the major sites, the Reichstag, the Brandenburg Tor, the Holocaust memorial, the Berlin Wall, Checkpoint Charlie, Bebelplatz (the location of the infamous Nazi book-burning), I could go on. That night we had Mexican food, and it was delicious.

The next day, Justin and I wandered around the city while the girls went museuming. We stumbled across a wonderful street market with the best quiche and olives I have ever had. It was a really international moment – a Swedish woman with an American boyfriend selling French pastries on the East side of Berlin to an American studying in the Netherlands. We then walked to the grassy square on Museum Island and people watched for a few hours, lots of fun. We met up with the girls at the Pergamon Museum, which houses a very impressive collection of loot from ancient Greece, Rome, and the Near East. They reconstructed an entire Greek temple inside the place, along with the Ishtar Gate from Babylon and an excellent selection of Greco-Roman nude sculpture.

My most lasting impressions came from Berlin’s reactions to its Nazi and Communist past. Although the war ended more than 60 years ago, they still wear shame on their sleeve. The Holocaust memorial is huge, unsightly, and in the very middle of town–not to mention the official name, Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. The memorial in Bebelplatz bears the inscription, “Where they burn books, they will also burn humans in the end.” What must it be like, to be a German today, knowing that your parents or grandparents were part of such a terrifying movement? With regards to Communism, however, they seem to be doing their best to forget. During our walking tour, we crossed between East and West Berlin continuously, and I would not have known had it not been for our guide. When I look at the last 100 years of my family’s history, visiting Berlin becomes one of the more important events in my life I think. The idea that I sent my grandparents who fought in WWII and raised families during the Cold War a postcard from East Berlin staggers me.

Since Berlin, we’ve been to Colmar (small provincial town in France) and Prague – and this weekend I’m off to the Black Forest in Germany and the Swiss Alps – exciting!

Den Haag / Amsterdam / Zeewolde

Again with the lateness, I know. This post is about not last weekend, but three weekends ago. But my oh my, what a story it is!

Last weekend, Steven, Aaron, Skylar, and myself spent the weekend with a friend of Steven’s family, Ronald Wanders. Ronald lives with his family in Zeewolde, this tiny town in the middle of what used to be an inland sea, but those industrious Dutch drained the sucker about thirty years ago and built themselves some suburbs. Ronald is also a millionaire. Steven had also never met Ronald before. In fact, the only person who had met Ronald was Steven’s grandfather’s cousin. Despite this ridiculously thin connection however, Ronald invited us up to stay with him and his family for the weekend. Not wanting to refuse a free room, we of course accepted the invitation.

And so Thursday afternoon we hopped on the train to Zeewolde, not entirely sure what to expect. We arrived in Zeewolde that night, and called Ronald to come pick us up. A few minutes later, an Audi R8 and VW Golf screeched into the parking lot. This huge six-foot-four, 300-pound man wearing a black leather jacket and Ray Ban sunglasses climbed out of the R8 and grunted, “Is one of you fellas Steven Cutbirth?” We all looked at each other and knew we were in for a great weekend.

Despite the intimidating look, Ronald is one of the nicest men I have ever met. He is the epitome of hospitality. We weren’t expecting anything more than a place to sleep and night, and maybe directions to the bus stop. Not only did we get free lodging, but we had breakfast in the mornings, beers in the evenings, a posse of twenty year-olds to guide and chauffeur us around Zeewolde and Amsterdam, and-most surprisingly-access to his automobiles.

On Friday we were planning on taking the train to Den Haag, but Ronald told us to take the VW Golf. Before we headed out, we stopped by his office (his house and office are connected) to say goodbye, where we met his business partner, Eric. Looking out the window, I spied Ronald’s R8 parked next to Eric’s Audi S5, and joked, “So which one are we taking, the R8 or the S5?”

Eric cocked his head to one side and said, “Wait. I have idea.” He paused and looked at us inquisitively. “Do you want to take the S5?” We all laughed, thinking he was joking – the S5 is $100,000 of premium sports car – 350 horsepower, V8 engine, the works. But he just looked at us with a grin and glint in his eye. “Come. Come with me. We will see the car!”

We all followed diligently, making feeble attempts to decline the offer, but he countered us with every excuse. It was too small – “With a car like this, you don’t get space, you create space!” We don’t have Dutch driver’s licenses – “Can you drive in America? Then you are fine!” But Eric, it’s just too, well, nice – “Listen! The car? I don’t give a s#&% about it. Okay, well, I do give a s#&%, but I don’t. It’s fully insured, everything. Don’t worry! You are young, in the Netherlands, go have fun!” Before we knew it, Eric practically forced the keys into Skylar’s hands and we were on our way.

Bewildered but pleased, we typed Den Haag into the car’s navigation system and headed out. After a few hours of cruising we pulled into town and parked (very carefully). We walked to the Mauritshuis, one of the premiere art museums in the country, where we saw, among other things, Vermeer’s “Girl with a Pearl Earring” and a few self-portraits by Rembrandt. After touring the museum, we grabbed a bite of lunch and then headed back to the car. On the way to the car, however, we passed by a stand selling a dutch delicacy, raw-herring. Skylar and I couldn’t resist – check out the video:

Mmmmm….tasty!

Before turning around to head back to Zeewolde, we decided to take a detour to the town of Scheveningen to set our feet in the North Sea. We felt like we were at the end of the world, because the only thing beyond the horizon is the North Pole. But there was no time for further exploring, because we needed to get the car back to Eric. We made it back alright, albeit 45 minutes late – the navigation system tried to sabotage us – but it was okay, Eric didn’t care.

The rest of the evening was pretty uneventful. We went to dinner with Ronald’s oldest daughter, Vicki, and then met up with Ronald and his wife Tina at Zeewolde’s only pub. We nearly picked a fight with some local teenagers who had been giving Vicki some trouble in school, but we decided spending the night in Dutch jail wouldn’t be the best option.

The next day we took the Golf to Amsterdam. After spending a few hours trying to find free parking, we ended up parking in a local apartment complex and rode the tram into town. Amsterdam is a beautiful city, especially if the sun is shining like it did for us. We visited the Van Gogh and Rijk museums, both who had really impressive collections. I really liked Van Gogh’s “Wheat Field with Crows” and Rembrandt’s “The Nightwatch.” Both were neat, to say the least.

That night, we met up with another of Ronald’s friends, and he walked us around Amsterdam a little bit. It was getting late, so we didn’t really have much time to do anything, but we did manage to go see Amsterdam’s “famous windows” in the Red Light District. It was strange. I think that people tend to trivialize Amsterdam’s stance on prostitution, making a sort of joke about it. Joking makes it easier to gloss over what prostitution is all about. Being there, however, showed the sharp reality of it all – those are real women behind the glass, they have mothers and fathers somewhere – and it cleared away the facade to show how dirty and sad it all is.

And that was about it for our little adventure with Ronald. We headed back to Zeewolde that night, had some more pizza, played cards with Ronald’s family, and headed to bed. The next morning, he drove us into Utrecht to catch our train back to Maastricht. And this post has been long, and very narrative-esque, so I will end it here.