'I amsterdam'

It’s virtually impossible to compare international cities to non-man-made wonders. For instance, the difference between the French Alps and Florence is just as immeasurable as the difference between Barcelona and Cinque Terre. It’s essentially comparing apples to grapefruit, if you will.

So, while reflecting on my way back from Amsterdam Monday morning, it’s unfair to say it was my favorite European destination thus far, but it was my favorite city.

I decided that I appreciate natural beauty more than man-made structures. That’s why I loved the Alps and the cliffs of Cinque Terre so much (although I was awestruck by Rome, but that’s a whole different ballgame). Amsterdam, I decided was so cool because it was a combination of the two. It had the hustle and bustle of a city, intertwined with gorgeous canals throughout the downtown streets. It truly was the best of both man-made and natural worlds and had a homey feel to it. It felt more like an American city than the others I’ve visited here, except with a bit more, um, liberal policies.

Max, Dana, Sarah and I crammed so much into our 70 hours in the Netherlands. We rode around the city on bikes for a day, saw where Ann Frank hid from the Nazis (I didn’t go in because it was a 2-plus hour line and the weather was too nice not to enjoy), saw the Heineken factory, went to the Van Gogh (pronounced with a Hebrew-esque “ch,” not like “go”) Museum, saw the "I amsterdam" sign, went to the greenest parks I’ve seen in ages, ate incredible food, saw the notorious red light district – which lived up to its reputation, went to a comedy show called “Boom Chicago” run by Americans living in the Netherlands, went to another only-legal-in-Amsterdam show the night before – which was, um interesting… the list goes on.

Amsterdam is an incredibly biker-friendly city. And by “biker-friendly” I mean that the streets are flooded with the Dutch on their bikes; they’re everything but friendly. They’ll ring their little bike bells at you and won’t hesitate to run into you at decent speeds – which almost happened to Max a half-dozen times – then curse at you in Dutch.

The coolest thing we did all weekend was go to the city carnival. We went on a crazy ride called the Booster Maxxx, which was a combination of the Tower of Terror and an upside-down roller coaster. We sat suspended from probably 100 feet with a crazy view of the whole city, then went spiraling, circling toward the ground over and over for about three minutes. The swings, as you can see, were also nearly 100 feet off the ground, which gave us a 360-degree view of Amsterdam and its North Atlantic coast.

Our three days flew by and now I’m back in Prague, working on my project for my Central and Eastern European Integration into the EU and NATO class. Yeah, it’s a mouthful. Good thing I’m going to Munich for Spring Fest on Friday.

(More pictures coming soon.)

Finally, my people post

Weeks ago, my Uncle Eric – a self-admitted “Czech Me Out” regular visitor – sent me a Facebook message (yeah, I’m still getting used to the whole family on Facebook thing) saying:

“Here's a challenge should you choose to accept it: I'd like to understand more about the people. Not your US friends, but the locals you meet. How are they like you & me? How are they different? What do they think about the US, about their countries, about the future? I think it would add lots of richness to your overall blog to mix up levity with some occasional serious insights. This assignment will force you to meet more locals "on the streets" - that's what I want to hear about next - and I want to see some great portraiture...”

Had you been reading my blog up until that point (March 13), it would have seemed like all I did was hang out with fellow Americans. Let me clear that up: That’s not the case. Although I have done all of my traveling with at least a couple other American buddies and stayed with others Statesters, I have had some really enlightening experiences with people from all over the world over the past 9-plus weeks. At this point, I’d like to share them with you.

One of the coolest things – if not the coolest – happened the night before spring break. Max and I went to one of our favorite underground bars called Tulip, just to get a beer or two. We ended up running into some kids we knew from our Anglo American University classes: one from Czech Republic, one from France and one from Pakistan. Pitt was playing Xavier in the Sweet 16, so naturally, I asked the bartender to change the TV to ESPN America to quench my March Madness thirst. So there we were: a kid from San Diego and a kid from Boston (almost two different countries by themselves) drinking beer in Prague, watching college basketball with kids from Czech Republic, France and Pakistan, talking about politics, the economy, school and sports. That’s why I came abroad.

I have kids in my classes from Czech Republic, France, Italy, Spain, China, Vietnam and Norway, to name a few (those that come to mind). I especially like my entrepreneurship class, as I’m able to see different business ideas from college kids spanning literally three continents. Again, that’s why I came abroad.

Today, Max and I played basketball against a couple of 20-year-old Israeli kids. Naturally, we smoked them, but still a cool experience, almost as cool as playing pickup soccer under the lights against non-English speaking Czechs.

One kid in a couple of my classes from Prague studied abroad in Oklahoma when he was 16. That one made me shutter.

As mentioned before, Max and I sat down on consecutive nights in Rome with couples older than our parents and talked about “the world” (the only way I can concisely summarize it) for hours.

Last night in Amsterdam, I was watching the Masters with a group of Brits and Australians, talking about Tiger Woods with them, then listening to them argue about cricket, a sport I really need to begin to understand.

Some of the stereotypes about certain nationalities are true. The French, as a whole, are snobby and genuinely dislike non-French speaking people (except the kid from AAU). Czechs are more reserved. Italians and Spaniards are loud and talk at mach-three. The Brits and Irish are louder, when drinking. Americans are the loudest. All the time.

I’ve talked about rugby with Flano’s Irish mates and about the English Premier League with the kids from China and Vietnam, who are here for their entire undergraduate degrees.

What I’ve realized is, my generation could be the generation of hope. We’re genuinely interested in each other’s cultures and what we have to say – non-Americans more so than Americans, as they are typically more aware of global issues than we are; the “U.S Bubble” stigma tends to be more true than not, unless you – which I’m trying to do – truly make the effort. (Sorry for the run-on sentence. Reread if necessary.)

Another thing I’ve realized is that English is essentially a symbol of freedom and Democracy. The Czech Republic has only been part of the non-Communist free world for 20 years. I came here wanting to speak enough Czech to get by, but the Czechs I’ve come across have been proud to speak English; they’d rather speak English to me than have me speak Czech to them, a vast difference to the longtime free Frenchmen. Sure, the older Czech generations are less-educated, outgoing and far more reserved, but wouldn’t you be, if you grew up behind the Iron Curtain? Hard to imagine life without choices, isn’t it?

This semester is teaching me not only not to take what we, Americans have (which is virtually everything) for granted, but that being aware of what’s going on in the world is not only interesting and important, but pretty cool, too. I not only watch CNN International every day here, but I care more about what’s going on at home than I did when I actually resided in the Land of the Free, Home of the Brave, because honestly, the kids from Norway, China and Italy care more about Obama than most of your average American teenagers, which is downright embarrassing.

In terms of politics, one word can really sum things up regarding the global feeling of the Obama Era: Optimism. Kids and adults alike are excited that Obama is in charge of the most powerful nation in the world. Honestly, it’s hard to disagree, especially what just happened with those Somalian pirates. He was the guy with no foreign policy experience, right?

I have just over six weeks left and so much more to learn, see and do in my incredible semester abroad. And to think, I almost stayed in Madison to cover Bo Ryan’s Badgers. I would have gone to Boise, Idaho on spring break for god’s sake!

Bizarre Czech Easter traditions

Just got back from Amsterdam and school is closed, so I had to come visit my girls of Top Secret Cafe (we have a special, anonymous relationship). They celebrate Easter on Monday in Europe, so the term "Easter Sunday" apparently doesn't apply. The girls here were explaining the Czech Easter traditions to me. Women stay at home and men walk around the neighborhoods with bundles of sticks with ribbons on them (they kind of look like long firecrackers) and spank the women with them. I guess they go from house to house on an all-day spanking spree. The girls here said they came to work today to avoid it, but I just saw some guy (I think/hope they were friends) come in and spank her (jokingly) behind the bar. So their plan backfired.

This tradition seems to have become a joke, but who knows how serious some people take it. I mean, this was Commie-land when I was born. And I not that old.

(Amsterdam and people blogs coming soon.)

1 quick difference

As you know (or should know), inches -- like pounds, feet and ounces -- don't exist in Europe; Europeans use the metrics system (as should we, but we're assholes). Therefore, 8 1/2 x 11" paper doesn't exist. Paper is measured in centimeters, therefore, all my papers from class stick out of the top of my folders I brought from the States. Hey, I thought it was interesting. Tell me you thought of that before you (or I) came to Europe.

Cinque Terre tribute

Finished in Florence

Remembering Rome

Bright spots from Barcelona

Spring break '09: My 11-day European adventure

I’ve skied in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont, Colorado, Utah, Montana, California, British Columbia and the French and Swiss Alps. I’ve seen the Golden Gate Bridge, been to Fenway Park, (The Old) Yankee Stadium and Wrigley Field in one season. I’ve lay on the beaches of Acapulco, Mexico and Punta Cana, Dominican Republic and cruised the Caribbean islands. I’ve been to the World Series, Super Bowl, NBA Finals and Sweet 16 in a short span of five years, all including the teams for which I diehardingly (made up word, but it fits) follow (I was 3-1; the Badgers failed me against Stephen Curry in Detroit).

Wow, I’ve done a lot of amazing things in my 21 1/6-year existence. But to be perfectly honest, these past 11 days, as a whole, have rivaled all the above-mentioned experiences.

Max, Henry, Doug, Tyler, Brady and I (the boys of Templova 7) were greeted by sunshine and palm trees in Barcelona two Fridays ago. That big, bright star of ours has become a novelty, as Max, Tyler and I seem to be haunted by the same rain cloud wherever we travel. The six of us took a bus to Brady’s high school friend’s apartment in Barceloneta, which is right on the beach of the Mediterranean Sea – sand between your toes was a nice change of pace from the wind and hail in Prague. The location was perfect; the only downside was that her place was the size of your average Dodge Caravan. Luckily, her two roommates were gone traveling, so Brady, Henry, Tyler and Doug shared the pullout coach and one empty bed; Max and I left our bags there and went to stay with Erica, a fellow Bostonian Badger from Sharon.

We, Americans call New York the City That Never Sleeps. We, Americans are wrong. New York is the City That Barely Sleeps. Barcelona is truly the City That Never Sleeps. It’s wild. You don’t go out to the raging clubs until around 2 a.m. and walk home as the sun is coming (or is already) up. But it’s not as if you then sleep ‘til 5 p.m. to make up for it; there’s too much going on during the day for head-to-pillow contact.

La Rambla is the main strip in downtown Barcelona. It’s crazy, to say the least. They sell roosters, pigeons, fish, turtles, you name it, on the street. I almost (OK, not really) bought a chameleon – whose eyes move independently of each other – for 70 euro on the street, just to say I bought a chameleon in Barcelona. Don’t think it would have gotten through customs, though, so I refrained. La Rambla is hoppin’ during the day (you’ll see the reason for italics later). So much commotion, people dressed as statues looking for money every 12 feet. They even had an American bar (the food sucked, especially compared to the seafood and paella the city had to offer) where we could watch some March Madness (quick shoutout to myself for making the money in our Framingham pool for probably the fourth time out of the last six years.)

Also located on La Rambla was the coolest food market I’ve ever seen. It had everything from fresh-squeezed kiwi juice, to full, hanging (dead) pigs, to live octopi being hosed down to stay fresh. I went twice and was mesmerized both times.

Max and I partook in an anti-capitalist movement at the top of the city square. Yeah, we were basically Communists for all of 25 minutes. These Spanish workers were banging drums, screaming into megaphones, chanting, burning fake euro in front of the Bank of Spain. Apparently they too aren’t happy with the current global financial situation.

Saturday night is when things got a bit crazy. A bunch of Madison folk went to this club called Elephant (as in “font,” not “phint”). Shawna and her friends were also in town and I wanted to meet up with them. So I took a cab (you take cabs everywhere in Barcelona; it’s just too big. Not friendly on the ole’ wallet) to the club they were at. By the time I got there – let’s say 4:30 a.m., they were leaving the club (I did meet up with them the next day for some Gaudi-architectural sightseeing). I was staying at my friend Julie’s (another Badger) apartment, so I called her and tried to tell the cab driver in Spanish (very little English in Barcelona) where to go. To make a medium-sized story short, two cab rides later (yeah, my Spanish is that good), I found myself walking down La Rambla toward Brady’s friend’s apartment because it was the only place I recognized. Only thing was, no one was answering their phones. This presented somewhat of a problem.

Anyone who knows anything about Barcelona knows that walking down La Rambla by one’s self at night (well, early morning) is basically walking into a gauntlet of "illegal" (at least by U.S. standards) activity. As I strolled the street, I was bombarded by beer sellers, drug dealers and prostitutes. That happens sometimes in Prague, too, when they smell the American on you, but not to this magnitude. All I wanted was a bed – by myself, mind you – but all the hotels were full (who would have thought at six in the morning?). Finally I found a hostel for 17 euro, slept on the bottom bunk, woke up at noon and re-found my friends. If only the excitement stopped there.

Monday, Max, Tyler and I hopped on a plane to Rome. Tyler met Kelly there so Max and I were on our own. We stayed in a nice bed and breakfast in town. We immediately went out for Italian food and let me tell you, the stigma is for real: the food in Italy is amazing. All week I had nothing but feasts, from spaghetti to pizza, lasagna to ravioli, in one word: awesome.

Anyway, we sat next to this nice, middle-aged Irish couple. Two hours later, we were exchanging emails, phone numbers and addresses, which I subsequently lost the next evening (story coming soon). We talked about politics, school, economics, history, you name it. Great people. Funny thing was, we had almost the exact same conversation with a similarly-aged Danish couple the next night at dinner. Both couples were excited about the Obama Era, for the record.

Although this semester has begun to change this, as mentioned in a previous post: historically, I have not been one enthralled by history (not involving some sort of ball), art or architecture. Rome, however, blew me away. Max and I saw the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps that first night. The Trevi Fountain is one of the coolest manmade structures I’ve seen. The Steps were nothing to write home about, so I phoned home (ET style) from the top instead (true story).

Tuesday we got up early to go to the Vatican. The Sistine Chapel left me in a daze and the tombs of all of the Popes were pretty cool, too. Next was the Coliseum. Not much to say about that; I think the pictures speak for themselves. I simply can’t fathom how the Ancient Romans were able to build that thing. It honestly makes no sense. You can see where the gladiators waited before their matches, as the sand floor obviously no longer exists. Wild.

Those were the two highlights of the day. We saw the Pantheon, the shrine of Emanuel II and the Forum. They were all amazing, but incomparable to those first two sights. Tyler and Kelly were headed back to Florence, but Max and I wanted to stay in Rome one more night with a bunch of kids from our program in Prague. That was a mistake.

It came up several times over the course of the week that I had had my black Calvin Klein wallet since 7^th grade. Now I’m convinced jinxing is for real. Ten of us went out together to explore the Roman night life. A couple bars later, my left pocket was wallet-less. I don’t know if I left it somewhere or it was stolen, but either way I had to cancel my debit card. Really put a damper on things in the middle of my trip. I contemplated going back to Prague that Friday. Good thing I didn’t.

After cancelling my card, Max and I took the train to Florence. He stayed with Tyler, Kelly and Co.; I stayed with Becky and her seven roommates. The Bus2Alps trip to the Amalfi Coast was full (we hadn't signed up yet), so I stayed with Becky (Elena came Thursday) for five nights. Living with multiple girls is interesting, but it was a nice change from Testosterone Templova.

I loved Florence. We went to the top of the Duomo, a huge cathedral in the city’s center, took a bus to this hill overlooking the entire city and even watched the UConn-Michigan State game at an Irish pub (Becky and a couple of her roommates are Huskies, so they were bummed). The gelato and pizza/pasta in Florence is unreal and those first four days were a blast, but they didn’t come close to the sights of Cinque Terre, our Sunday day trip and the culmination of my 11-day vacation.

“Cinque Terre” means “Five towns” in Italian. There are five tiny towns all on the rocky Mediterranean Coast. We took a train to the furthest town, planning to hike back to the nearest. Little did we know it was two-plus hours from No. 5 to No. 4. The hike was a bit challenging and steep (it didn’t help being in jeans; I didn’t know what to expect), but it was well worth it. It was me and six girls (which again, was a bit interesting) but we all had a blast. Some of the best views I’ve ever seen.

We took the train back to Florence and my spring break was all but over. We didn’t feel the deadly earthquake that struck northeast of Rome Sunday night, thank god. Monday was a day of trains, trams and planes, but finally we were back to trusty Templova.

What a vacation. On to Amsterdam tomorrow morning!

(I’m sure I left a lot out, but as usual, if I remember something important, I will add it later. Uncle Eric, the international people blog is coming soon, I promise.)

European irony

Europe is very environmentally friendly: Many lights are on timers, toilets have less water; Europeans take shorter, cooler showers. But for a union that is so conscious of such issues, apparently they haven't gotten the memo that cigarettes kill you.

Actually, that's entirely false. On every cigarette box in Europe, there is a label in huge font reading: CIGARETTES CAN KILL YOU. I guess Philip Morris doesn't allow that on the other side of the Atlantic.

But even with the label, which is probably 20 times the size of our "surgeon general's warning," Europeans -- especially in Spain -- chain smoke the shit out of cigarettes like they're searching for Wonka's golden ticket at each filter. I just don't understand it. That, and they all love McDonald's, but I've yet to see one obese person. We must be doing something wrong.

(I'm in the middle of my spring break post. It's taking a while.)

Obama actually brought 'change!'

President Obama was here in Prague over the weekend to address the rotating Presidency of the European Union (it's would be as if the capital of the U.S. moved from Washington to New York to L.A. every six months), which is here from January to June. I missed him, unfortunately, but he stood true to his campaign word; he certainly brought change.

I hardly even recognize this place. No clouds. High of 70 degrees. Bright sun. Outdoor seating for restaurants everywhere. Old Town Square looks like one big festival...

OK, I'm done procrastinating. I was just too mesmerized on my way to school this morning not to share it. Hopefully I'll be able to finish my spring break blog this afternoon. Again, no promises.

Spring Break post in the making

I'm currently sitting in a Florence library, crafting what will be the longest blog post yet: The tales of the past 11 days. I won't be able to finish it right now, and with two presentations and a paper due in the next 48 hours, I can't promise it will be done soon. Hopefully I'll be able to finish it tomorrow afternoon, but again, no promises.

Sorry for the delay, as I know you're all on the edges of your seats in anticipation. But I think this one will be worth the wait, especially because of the pictures.

Spring break update: Change of plans

Instead of going on the Bus2Alps trip to the Amalfi Coast, I'm staying in Florence with Becky and Elena. We have some good day trips planned, including one to Cinque Terre, which is a nice substitute for Sorrento and Capri.

Spring Break has been a blast thus far and is showing no signs of slowing down. The post-break post (confusing, I know) will include all of the escapades (and there have been many) with plenty of pictures from this 11-day adventure. No hints, until then; you'll just have to wait!

Finally, spring break

Thank god, I could use a break from all this stress. School, Ireland, France, Switzerland, Prague, it really wears you down mentally. Eh, not really, but it is spring break, so we're taking full advantage of the double-digit days off.

Tomorrow we fly to Barcelona for three days before Rome, Florence, Sorrento, Capri and whatever else we run into in Italy, including the blue grotto, one of the seven wonders of the world. As you can imagine, I'm pretty pumped.

We fly back Monday April 6, so don't expect any updates until then. And give me a day or two after that, as I'm sure there'll be a novel's worth to write about. Plus, I have a couple of presentations that week, so unfortunately those take priority over blogging. Trust me, if I had it my way, they wouldn't, either.

Subway wouldn't take my debit card

Think about that for a minute. I got a footlong (more than $5) and I had to go to the ATM around the corner to get cash to pay for it. What would Jared have to say about that?

Traveling tips for a good cause

If you're a frantic, last-minute traveler -- like myself, and pretty much every college student abroad -- I've found the perfect site for you: Hotelscombined.com

Chloe, a representative from Hotels Combined told me in an email that:

"Hotels Combined is a leading price comparison system used by over 25 million people every year. We aggregate and compare accommodation prices from all major sources such as Hotels.com, Travelocity.com, Priceline.com and many more. We are a free research tool helping users find the best priced accommodation option. If required, the reservation is made directly on the compared websites (Hotels.com, Travelocity.com, Priceline etc..)"

Just by mentioning its site on this blog, Hotels Combined is donating $20 to a charity of my choice, which will be the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Apparently my writing has paid (literally) off.

So if you're traveling in the near future, be sure to check out Hotelscombined.com!

Day trip to Pilsen

To be quite honest, my expectations for Pilsen were rather low; it’s a Czech city about an hour northwest of Prague, but I felt obligated to go. Good thing.

Tyler and I (and the rest of the group of about 20, no one else from my apartment) had to get up at 8:00. The highlight of the trip was supposed to be the Pilsner beer factory and quite frankly, we had just seen the biggest beer factory in the world nine days prior, so we weren’t all that enthused.

Well, sometimes it’s better not to expect greatness, which ended up being the case yesterday. As Tyler put it midway through the day: “This shits on the Guinness Factory.” The girls cringed at the expression, but he was right, the Pilsner tour put the Irish version to shame because the Guinness Factory was a self-guided tour through what was essentially a museum of the Irish stout. Pilsner was a guided tour of the actual factory, where we got to see bottles being manufactured and saw videos of how the pride of Pilsen was created.

The trip was paid for by CEA (originally paid by us, but still) and we got a “free” 3-course meal at the factory as well. Then the historical part of the trip began.

I’ve never been much of a history buff, but yesterday afternoon was pretty cool. We went to the Big Synagogue of Pilsen (apparently they didn’t feel like being creative during the naming process; or it doesn’t translate properly). It’s the second-biggest synagogue in all of Europe (the biggest is in Budapest, Hungary). It was taken over by the Nazis in WWII, but was liberated by the American troops at the end of the war. There’s a big memorial in the center of town saying, “Thank you America!” which is located at the top of America Street. The synagogue survived not only WWII, but the Cold War as well, as it was then part of Czechoslovakia and the Soviet Union. Pretty humbling to be in a building with such historical importance.

Before we left Pilsen, we climbed 301 steep, narrow, winding stairs to the top of a cathedral in the middle of town. The lookout tower was 102 meters high and had a great view of the city and landscape surrounding it. Good closure for very fun, enlightening, worthwhile day trip. And I sacrificed some March Madness viewing to go, with no regrets. Who would’ve thought?