Amsterdam, Paris, Portugal

Hello! Ruth and I had a great time in Amsterdam, despite staying in a terrible hostel. We arrived from Berlin to find out they had `lost` our reservation. The first night we had to share a very narrow top bunk, with our feet in each others face. I had to tuck the sheet around me like a hammock not to fall 6 feet to the floor. It was dirty, cramped, and smelled funny...probably the worst hostel we have stayed at, which means it was pretty bad. Regardless, our stay was wonderful. We rented bikes for the majority of our stay and explored the endless corners and canals of Amsterdam. It is a beautiful city. You turn a corner and you´re right in an impressionist landscape. We visited the amazing Van Gogh museum and did the Heineken Experience, which consisted of a virtual and multimedia brew tour, as well as beer tasting! Turns out, as with everything in Amsterdam, Heineken is extremely expensive, even though its brewed right in town. We left early on July 9th and met Carra in Brussels. The rendezvous was successful and we had lunch and a Belgian waffle. Afterwards, got back on the train headed for Paris!



Upon arrival in Paris, we learned that we would not be able to leave until July 13th, due to the Running of the Bulls, Tour de France, and Holiday weekend. Sooo, we had to cancel our plans for San Sebastian and Madrid, Spain. Being stuck in Paris turns out not to be such a bad thing. We had to hostel hop every night but it didn´t stop us from seeing all the sights and getting a taste of Parisian life. On day one, we visited the Notre Dame cathedral and explored the Latin Quarter. We made our way to the overwhelmingly massive and famous Louvre Museum. We saw tons of statues, including the elegantly powerful Winged Victory and the classic ideal beauty of the Venus de Milo. We wandered endless halls of French paintings, Egyptian artwork and artifacts, and Italian paintings, featuring Botticelli, Rapheal, Caliari, Da Vinci, and many others. We jostled for a peek at the mysterious and dissappointing Mona Lisa. Its tiny, drab, and not that impressive. The ambiguity of her expression and her distant beauty create the allure, but the surrounding walls were much more impressive. Its confusing to think about why and how certain paintings become iconical, while others are ignored.

The next day we picked up where the Louvre left off and visited the Museum d`Orsay. We absolutely loved this building. Set in an old train station, you wind your way through conservative French paintings, on to Realism, then to the works of Manet which led into the star-studded Impressionist (and-post) era of Toulouse-Letrec, Matisse, Monet, Pissaro, Van Gogh, Renoir, and others in no particular order. It is the most amazing collection I have ever seen, well organized and free-flowing. Afterwards, we wanted more Impressionism and visited the Orangerie Museum in the Tuillieres Garden. We were short for time, but we saw Monet´s stunning water lillies that take up two massive oval rooms. We had no idea they were so large. I loved them. We saw more Monet and Pissaro, whom we began to like very much, and caught a glimpse of some pre-modern art. They kicked us out, we would love to go back. That night we had an amazing meal down the street from out hotel. Started with wine and fried duck rolls, then duck filet, chicken kebabs, a tasty Sole all served with rosemary potatoes and vegetables. It was authentic and delicious and the staff were fun and very helpful.

Next day we visited Versailles in the cold rain with 1000s of other tourists and small children. We got through an extremely long line without too much of a wait thanks to our Museum Passes and toured the Chateau. The inside was beautiful and you can almost imagine Marie Antoinette and Old Henry prancing around the palace...didnt end too well for them though. We walked through the Hall of Mirrors and the War Hall, which featured old French war paintings juxtaposed to graphic images of modern war spanning from WWI to Vietnam to Afghanistan and Africa. It was emotionally moving, interesting from a media standpoint, and overwhelming to think how common the thread of war is to any society, how history repeats itself, and how tiresome these images can be despite whether its painted in glory or photographed in crossfire. We returned to Paris and visited the Pompidou Center that houses the Museum of Modern Art. It was very different and really entertaining. After passing over endless portraits of French aristocrats all morning it was a relief to see wedding gowns made out of plastered wire, cardboard, hot wheel cars, and detached limbs of baby dolls. A multimedia playground that could keep even the art haters occupied for hours. Upstairs a long corridor featured modern art from early 1900s to 1960s. Spanning from Jackson Pollack, to Matisse, to Picasso, to Salvador Dali...to name a few of the populars. My favorites were the works of a Hungarian born artist named Simon Hantai who developed the technique of folding, in which you crumble pieces of paper, splash them with vibrant paint, unfold them in a different way and spread them onto the canvas. It creates blank space on the canvas, interrupted by chaotic forms of color. Not only does it look supercool, but it takes away the subjectivness of the artist entirely and the results are imagined but not necessarily intended. One huge painting had fragments of earlier works...a cross, a womans bust, etc...covered with the folding technique, then inscribed with liturgical and philosophical sentences, phrases, and quotations at random entirely from top to bottom. Every morning for a year, he spent writing in various colors and forms across this painting, while living in a monastery somewhere in Italy...intense. Afterwards, we had pizza and made our way to the Eiffel Tower. We waited in the longest line yet, in order to climb up to the 2nd level in time for the last bit of sunlight to fade. The views were breathtaking and the tower itself in monstrous. We made our descent and walked to the adjacent park where we witnessed the tower light up in a 1000 flashing lights, which occurs every hour after sunset.

We slept in the next day, checked out and began dwindling the day down until our night train. We visited Sacre Ceour in the Montmarte district and laid in the park, reading, getting sun. We spent the rest of the day eating and drinking at various local places. Finally, we got on the night train headed for the Spain border of Irun. We shared a 6 bed couchette with 3 guys from South Carolina, crazy. We arrived at the border, exhausted and switched to another train to Madrid that would take about 6 hours...an extreme travel day. It was on this train that I realized I left some food, clothing, my water bottle that ive had for 7 weeks, and my journal (an entire spiral notebook filled with a month and a half of writing) behind. I was extremely upset with myself and still sad about what Ive lost, only the journal. I feel like Ive left my mind behind. Although, now I am all the more thankful that I have been keeping a blog, and Ill always have this (hence the detail of this post). Computer beats paper in this battle.

Anyways, we arrived in Madrid around 2pm and thankfully got a spot on the night train that night to Lisbon, Portugal or else we would have been scrambling to find a last minute hostel. Madrid is beautiful and I wish we would have had more time there, but we had to catch up with our schedule/existing reservations after the setback in Paris, and we were dying for a beach. We wandered through town, around the Royal Theatre and Palace, and entered the Cathedral. It was unexpectedly our favorite cathedral yet. It is difficult to describe why but it was very calm inside, with lovely music playing, quiet lighting, and tasteful artwork. The stained glass was simple, geometric, almost abstract. The ceiling was painted with secular patterns that were just as inspiring as another Mary or Jesus on the Cross. We spent a good amount of time just circling the altar and gazing up towards the ceilings. We made our way back through town, down winding streets and the Gran Avenue. Loved the architecture there, its vibrant and youthful with a definite sense of history though. We laid in the park for a bit, had delicious tapas and ice cream, then returned to the station to board our second straight night train in a row. This one was more miserable than the last. Already on minimal sleep our cabin was disgustingly hot and unluckily located over the axel, which provides for a very bumpy ride. I was really, although wrongfully afraid we were going to suffocate in there. We didnt but it was miz!

We arrived in Lisbon and made our way to the Guincho Surf Beach Hostel located in Cascais (Cash-CAI) by various modes of public transportation. Immediately upon arrival, we were greeted with extreme kindness and help from bus drivers and citizens. Without them, we would have ended up in the bushes of the National Park somewhere (which apparently has happened before). On our last bus, we had a lively group of elderly, gap-toothed, grocery-weilding citizens all pitching in and discussing how we were to arrive at our destination. They were very kind and warm, we were very gracious (and still mildly confused)...Portugese is impossible to understand, especially when you try to pick up on Spanish similarities...doesnt work. As the bus rumbled down narrow, pot-holed roads further into the valley and we were the only ones remaining on the bus we started to worry. No need, however, the bus driver took us to where we needed to go and let us know we needed to get out. No more buses.

We found are hostel with no signage, the direction just said, the one with the white satellite dish. Fortunately, they are not prevalent as you might expect, so we walked up and through the cracked door. Stepping in, we were sure we were breaking and entering someones private home. Going around back we banged on the door again and were greeted by a Dutch girl staying there. We were exhilarated that this was in fact it! This hostel is amazing. Clean, neat, cozy and feels like home. Everything is decorated with IKEA products and the back porches look out over the valley and out onto the Atlantic! We dropped our stuff in the living room and headed straight to the beach. Beautiful sand beaches surrounded by jagged cliffs and the castle-crowned mountain. It is beautiful beyond words here, and the sun is equally as brutal. The wind and water were cold, and not suprisingly we got burnt...Carra getting the worst of it. I rode on a Vespa with the guy who works at the hostel (Max) to the local fishmarket. Bought some trout and big shrimp to cook the next two days. We all grilled out and sat on the porch sharing travel stories, I felt like I was at Topsail with foreigners! It was great!

We all had a rude awakening this morning...Carra got up early to use the bathroom and put more aftersun on her legs and passed out cold in the hallway outside the bathroom. Luckily, wacko woman staying at the hostel was there to help her and wake us up. She came to shortly after and we got Jorge (the owner of the hostel) over to call a doctor. We refused an ambulance and just nursed her back to strength until we could go to the doctor. Jorge was beyond helpful and generous. He is not only the best hostel owner weve met, but one of the most genuine, interesting, and kind person we have met on our entire journey. He went out and got us squeezed orange juice and all sorts of delicious local pastries. We sat around talking with him until he could take us to the pharmacy at 9am. Carra was drained but uninjured and, well, not fainting. Turns out it was most likely a combination of low blood pressure, sunburn, dehydration, and our recent travels that brought it on.

After the pharmacy, Jorge took us in his car on what turned out to be at least a two hour trip around the surrounding hills. He took us to the Cabo de Roca, a jutting cape that is the most western point in all of Europe. It is capped by a lighthouse and monument to seafarers. This is the closest we have been to home in 2 months, and it was breathtaking. Steep cliffs lead down to isolated beaches and fisherman rake the coast for the abundance of wildlife that exist here. Its mindblowing to see our ocean from the other side. Then we went on a gorgeous ride along the ridge and up the mountain to the castle and down into the town of Sintra. It, as well, was so amazing. The tiny streets were lined with flowers, shops, and elegant `palaces´ where people still live today. Jorge showed us where he grew up, the back door to the estate where he used to sneak out, and the Church he went to (now all owned by the state, but still lived in by others) Passing by all the houses and insane views from the mountain he continued to give us firsthand history lessons on the land and the people. The best tour and tour guide you could ask for, all done out of his kindness and genuine interest in people and his home.

When we returned, Ruth and I went to the beach again while Carra rested, and wisely used an entire new bottle of sunscreen. We watched dozens of surfers catch huge waves. We all spent the afternoon hanging out with Max, reading, listening to music, cooking, and visiting more with Jorge (we cooked him dinner, shrimp fried rice..sort of, it was awesome). This has been one of the most pleasant experiences we have had, despite Carra´s spell. The Portugese, like the weather, are warm, shining, and beautiful. They live well but never extravagantly. They are born here, and they proudly die here. They live off and with the land, having a very green mindset. Parsley grows wild as a weed and they can grow lemon, orange, and fig trees in their backyards. Their bus system sucks but thats just the way it is and always will be. They are calm and gracious. From the bus driver, to the market owner, to Jorge they meet you with a smile, willful assistance, and chit chat although not understood by us. I loved this place and I seriously must come back, I know there is so much more to see here. Tomorrow we are heading to Lagos located on the Southern tip of Portugal. Its a party place and will certainly be a change but if the coast looks anything like it does here, I think we will be just fine. We stay there for two nights, head to Sevilla, Spain for the day then a night train to Barcelona from where we will fly back to the States...Carra on the 22nd, Ruth and I on the 23rd. I cant believe its coming to an end, I dont want to believe it, but it must and I am so happy for the experiences we have had and the people we have met along the way. Will most likely catch up in Barcelona before we head back. Hope all is well, see you soon. Love.