Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Iberian Jalopy Seeks Mongolia
Stolen from slate's four word anthology, we have a slogan and a team name, I confidently report from the slowest internet cafe in Croatia (pronounced from the back of the throat). I last left from Switzerland, headed toward the fine country of Czech Republic with its romantic architecture and people. Many drives filled with laughs, naps, Hercules Theme, and I'm Yours beats have covered a third of our trip already. Peaking around 28 miles per gallon (all calculations done by hand from kilometers and liters), the 1990 Renault has proven itself already, and we intend to push it further than it ever imagined travelling in six weeks. Recent bets have been made as to the final final odometer reading upon entering Ulan Bataar, Mongolia, where someone will pay dearly for losing (more news when the bet is done).
Leaving some of the most hospitable hosts anyone had ever encountered, we crossed the Swiss-Austrian border with not only three days of water, but a universal power adapter, Switzerland's finest version of a leatherman, and full bellies from the kindess of Thomas and Antonia Kuettel. Our disguises, however did not relieve us from the duty of sharing our passports. No insurance check yet though. We entered Munich around lunchtime, found free parking at a broken lot, and wandered into the old town.
We left the old town, a little lost due to my poor sense of direction which walked us through a construction site, but a little rich due to my directing us to a free parking garage. Olympic park!!! We wandered through this historic landmark not sure why it was still there, amazed by the buildings and structures. We meandered over to the map of the area, considered a few things to see and realized that it was 3pm and we had another 200 km to cover before Prague, our evening destination. Skipping Dachau, we floored it for Prague, seeing a few gas stations and finally the border, where we loaded up on the honeyest, grossest cookies I've ever eaten nutella on. Still delicious when hungry. We met up with my friend Rachel Pole, saw a bar and then called it a night.
The next day, waking up outside Prague at a campsite where everyone had paid much more than we had, we rolled back into the city and the same parking spot - free on weekends. We ran through the city, seeing every site, and pausing only briefly for lunch at the sculpture garden near the Charles Bridge. I learned the lesson of guiding us too quickly when we ended the day exhausted and overwhelmed with memories of buildings, statues and couples wandering through squares. Rachel drank a beer with us atop the hill, looking down on the city, meanwhile we broke the news that we were ready to leave Prague and the city life to head for the country and some free camping. Fondest memory of Prague? The statues at the castle of a man beating another with a huge club. Awesome!
Free camping rarely exists, but we find it nonetheless, this time in a field outside Benesov and a crumbling castle we aspired to climb around, but lost interest in. The next day we woke up frozen, regretting the plan to sleep outside - my bivy sac is not as luxurious as I once thought, filling with condensation when the outside temperature drops below the inside temperature and dew point causes a change of state... thermodynamics in short.
Crossing the Austrian border, loaded up with duty free mini Snickers and Gummie Bears, we visited Eggenburg, purely for the name, drove by various humous sounding names and concluded that one day we would all return and found Burgerschlong, the ultimate Austrian city, full of tall beers and free camping, again lacking in this country. Vienna proved the opposite of everything we were looking for in a city, in terms of affordability, weather and convenience. We got lost, spent half our budget on parking, and got rained on. The buildings were architectural beauties, but we wasted no focus, energy, or money on museums, cruising instead through the courtyards and posing near statues. After an encounter with an internet cafe, I led the troops to a non-profit, more specifically the International Community of Sustainable Development. When we finished getting lost and eating lunch to give me courage, an older man opened the door to his apartment, and in moderate English informed me that his daughter was the organizer but was not in. I guess I found the non-physical organization. Something else to note. I'm still proud to have knocked, even if I have little to show for it.
From there we searched out the Pol Tollau National Park, visited our fourth church and camped pretty conspicuously on the top of hill while a pastor drove his smart car by a few times. When it started raining, we set a record for erecting the tent and recorded our stories from the previous nights on James' voice recorder. The next day embarking for Croatia proved rainy again, but successful. We drove down to the Plitvice Waterfalls, but didnt spend for the entrance ticket. Today we headed back to Zagreb, discovered we couldn't meet up with my friend Jon and now Ive run out of minutes. Pictures are at flickr.com/photos/jsanders. Couldnt post them. More to come.
Leaving some of the most hospitable hosts anyone had ever encountered, we crossed the Swiss-Austrian border with not only three days of water, but a universal power adapter, Switzerland's finest version of a leatherman, and full bellies from the kindess of Thomas and Antonia Kuettel. Our disguises, however did not relieve us from the duty of sharing our passports. No insurance check yet though. We entered Munich around lunchtime, found free parking at a broken lot, and wandered into the old town.
We left the old town, a little lost due to my poor sense of direction which walked us through a construction site, but a little rich due to my directing us to a free parking garage. Olympic park!!! We wandered through this historic landmark not sure why it was still there, amazed by the buildings and structures. We meandered over to the map of the area, considered a few things to see and realized that it was 3pm and we had another 200 km to cover before Prague, our evening destination. Skipping Dachau, we floored it for Prague, seeing a few gas stations and finally the border, where we loaded up on the honeyest, grossest cookies I've ever eaten nutella on. Still delicious when hungry. We met up with my friend Rachel Pole, saw a bar and then called it a night.
The next day, waking up outside Prague at a campsite where everyone had paid much more than we had, we rolled back into the city and the same parking spot - free on weekends. We ran through the city, seeing every site, and pausing only briefly for lunch at the sculpture garden near the Charles Bridge. I learned the lesson of guiding us too quickly when we ended the day exhausted and overwhelmed with memories of buildings, statues and couples wandering through squares. Rachel drank a beer with us atop the hill, looking down on the city, meanwhile we broke the news that we were ready to leave Prague and the city life to head for the country and some free camping. Fondest memory of Prague? The statues at the castle of a man beating another with a huge club. Awesome!
Free camping rarely exists, but we find it nonetheless, this time in a field outside Benesov and a crumbling castle we aspired to climb around, but lost interest in. The next day we woke up frozen, regretting the plan to sleep outside - my bivy sac is not as luxurious as I once thought, filling with condensation when the outside temperature drops below the inside temperature and dew point causes a change of state... thermodynamics in short.
Crossing the Austrian border, loaded up with duty free mini Snickers and Gummie Bears, we visited Eggenburg, purely for the name, drove by various humous sounding names and concluded that one day we would all return and found Burgerschlong, the ultimate Austrian city, full of tall beers and free camping, again lacking in this country. Vienna proved the opposite of everything we were looking for in a city, in terms of affordability, weather and convenience. We got lost, spent half our budget on parking, and got rained on. The buildings were architectural beauties, but we wasted no focus, energy, or money on museums, cruising instead through the courtyards and posing near statues. After an encounter with an internet cafe, I led the troops to a non-profit, more specifically the International Community of Sustainable Development. When we finished getting lost and eating lunch to give me courage, an older man opened the door to his apartment, and in moderate English informed me that his daughter was the organizer but was not in. I guess I found the non-physical organization. Something else to note. I'm still proud to have knocked, even if I have little to show for it.
From there we searched out the Pol Tollau National Park, visited our fourth church and camped pretty conspicuously on the top of hill while a pastor drove his smart car by a few times. When it started raining, we set a record for erecting the tent and recorded our stories from the previous nights on James' voice recorder. The next day embarking for Croatia proved rainy again, but successful. We drove down to the Plitvice Waterfalls, but didnt spend for the entrance ticket. Today we headed back to Zagreb, discovered we couldn't meet up with my friend Jon and now Ive run out of minutes. Pictures are at flickr.com/photos/jsanders. Couldnt post them. More to come.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
First Leg
Our sturdy Renault 21, now named Leo by his three fearless conductors, has hurled us over 2,000 kilometers to just outside of Zurich, Switzerland. As soon as our boy, Kerry, with Geico insurance emailed us our contract, we slammed it through the printer and took off without a second thought. Those second thoughts arose as Maite, my host sister, dropped us off at the car, quizzing us on European road signs. We hopped in, however, and after finding ourselves going the wrong direction, we turned the jalopy and headed south, toward Barcelona.
Barcelona without a map or guide book was impressive, bustling with tourists and markets (this was a Saturday) and we left our free parking space at the end of the day loaded with groceries and pictures of the city and its many McDonalds (we managed to find every three of the Gaudy pieces in the city on accident). This time we asked around for sleep arrangements, only to find that the Spanish definition of camping, is a field to park and sleep in, accessorized with a pool, tennis court, gazeebos and French maids (maybe a little exaggerated) which exceeded our financial constraints (due to our car costs, living expenses must remain below 23€ a day). Finally we landed at the Alberg, asking about rooms, and eventually pleading to let us stay on their land. The woman at the desk eventually took us as her illigetimate children, letting us eat dinner, breakfast, and stay for free. I guess dishevelled is not always a bad look?
The next day we wound through the Pyrenees some more, stopping once to get an intense speedy video shot of us barelling back down the mountain at 25 mph. We crossed into Andorra, a made up country between Spain and France designed exclusively for cheap commerce in the summer (and skiing in the winter) and loaded up on Nutella, winning a free Simpsons watch in the process. After getting stuck with a flooded engine at a weird pull off full of friendly horses (we still have horse drool on our window) we rolled downhill, roared Leo up and started coasting back down these Pyrenees and out of Andorra. A sketchier night in France included avoiding camping costs by hiking up a trail and pitching our Walmart tent a kilometer from town.
On a fine Monday morning, our jalopy roared down non-toll roads, averaging around 40 mph, but saving us oodles of money. We arrived in Grenoble, a climbing hub we heard about in the Basque Country, and found a parking spot, while I bet James that by the third person I asked, I could discern the location of a climbing store. As soon as I placed our payed parking ticket in the windshield, I turned to find a man walking with climbing shoes hanging off his backpack. Who knew he'd speak wonderful English and direct us to the store, internet, and a grocery store? This town was full of beautiful and friendly people. Are you entitled to be mean if you're French and attractive? Grenoble say "NO MONSIEUR!" We eventually found the store, with a little more help, got directions to some bouldering nearby, overheated Leo for a sec and were off, cruising the countryside of the French Alps, looking for our gravel road turn off. An amazing waterfall, some boulders and one jug of wine later, we left Grenoble rejuvenated and ready to conquer the Swiss autobahns. Story shortened, we ate lunch in Geneva, jumped on the highway, and pushed Leo up to 120 kmh to find Fabio outside of Zurich in his house with electricity, water, television, internet and cold beer. A gracious gracious host, including his father Thomas and his incredible help with the car and terrific meals, and his mother Antonia, baking and driving us around with Italian gusto.
Two police confrontations, seat-belt-less in the car, sorted out by Fabio's smooth talking, and crossing the Swiss-German border to see a beautiful lake at Konstanz, and we found our gruff appearance disadvantageous. New plan - shave to mislead the officials into believing we might just be upstanding European citizens. We all took different approaches to this facial hair conundrum, all arriving at a solution involving a moustache, much to eachother's amusement. The result, as you see is an unstoppable set of disguises that should allow us to sneak across to Eastern Europe.
Next stop: Praga and the fourth of July!!
green shade, originally uploaded by wanders.
After a bit of car trouble, we cleared things up, bought a European road atlas - Google Maps directions in Spanish are confusing - filled the tank at nearly seven dollars a gallon, and sped off, paying toll after toll after toll. As the sun set on the wind turbine littered horizon, we decided not to pull into Barcelona, where we knew of no couches or hostels, and instead pulled off the side of the toll road and slept in the car, near two other people on the ground in sleeping bags. Worst night of sleep ever. We have checked that off the to-do list and plan on strictly camping in our future.Barcelona without a map or guide book was impressive, bustling with tourists and markets (this was a Saturday) and we left our free parking space at the end of the day loaded with groceries and pictures of the city and its many McDonalds (we managed to find every three of the Gaudy pieces in the city on accident). This time we asked around for sleep arrangements, only to find that the Spanish definition of camping, is a field to park and sleep in, accessorized with a pool, tennis court, gazeebos and French maids (maybe a little exaggerated) which exceeded our financial constraints (due to our car costs, living expenses must remain below 23€ a day). Finally we landed at the Alberg, asking about rooms, and eventually pleading to let us stay on their land. The woman at the desk eventually took us as her illigetimate children, letting us eat dinner, breakfast, and stay for free. I guess dishevelled is not always a bad look?
The next day we wound through the Pyrenees some more, stopping once to get an intense speedy video shot of us barelling back down the mountain at 25 mph. We crossed into Andorra, a made up country between Spain and France designed exclusively for cheap commerce in the summer (and skiing in the winter) and loaded up on Nutella, winning a free Simpsons watch in the process. After getting stuck with a flooded engine at a weird pull off full of friendly horses (we still have horse drool on our window) we rolled downhill, roared Leo up and started coasting back down these Pyrenees and out of Andorra. A sketchier night in France included avoiding camping costs by hiking up a trail and pitching our Walmart tent a kilometer from town.
On a fine Monday morning, our jalopy roared down non-toll roads, averaging around 40 mph, but saving us oodles of money. We arrived in Grenoble, a climbing hub we heard about in the Basque Country, and found a parking spot, while I bet James that by the third person I asked, I could discern the location of a climbing store. As soon as I placed our payed parking ticket in the windshield, I turned to find a man walking with climbing shoes hanging off his backpack. Who knew he'd speak wonderful English and direct us to the store, internet, and a grocery store? This town was full of beautiful and friendly people. Are you entitled to be mean if you're French and attractive? Grenoble say "NO MONSIEUR!" We eventually found the store, with a little more help, got directions to some bouldering nearby, overheated Leo for a sec and were off, cruising the countryside of the French Alps, looking for our gravel road turn off. An amazing waterfall, some boulders and one jug of wine later, we left Grenoble rejuvenated and ready to conquer the Swiss autobahns. Story shortened, we ate lunch in Geneva, jumped on the highway, and pushed Leo up to 120 kmh to find Fabio outside of Zurich in his house with electricity, water, television, internet and cold beer. A gracious gracious host, including his father Thomas and his incredible help with the car and terrific meals, and his mother Antonia, baking and driving us around with Italian gusto.
Two police confrontations, seat-belt-less in the car, sorted out by Fabio's smooth talking, and crossing the Swiss-German border to see a beautiful lake at Konstanz, and we found our gruff appearance disadvantageous. New plan - shave to mislead the officials into believing we might just be upstanding European citizens. We all took different approaches to this facial hair conundrum, all arriving at a solution involving a moustache, much to eachother's amusement. The result, as you see is an unstoppable set of disguises that should allow us to sneak across to Eastern Europe.Next stop: Praga and the fourth of July!!Thursday, June 26, 2008
Insurance
SUCCESS! Almost. (James knocks on wood for me). For $1200, we have found international car insurance to take us as far as this little car will. A green Renault 21 from 1990 shall be the jalopy of our adventure (pictures to come) and the bed of our dreams. Insurance is nearly impossible to come by, but we should be getting it all arranged tomorrow morning, leaving soon thereafter for Barcelona.
Elevator ride, originally uploaded by wanders.
With the arrival of James and Chris, those friendly old neighbors of mine, I got a few site-seeing activities out of the way. We saw the Loyola church of Saint Ignatius, founder of the Jesuits, laughed a little too loudly during a Basque sermon, and traded a bit of English for a sandwich and a few local beers. We poned a Heineken Mini-Keg so that we could turn it into our cooking pot, and with our expensive insurance, it looks like rice and beans for most of the trip. We have a few tricks up our sleeves to save money, namely eating dirt and bathing in the rain. Looks like we are shooting for a stop in Barcelona before we hit up the climbing of Southern France - if we can find it, since we have yet to invest in any maps. Fingers are crossed that the car makes it at least to Switzerland, since we're putting all our eggs in the green Renaulty basket.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Euskadi
And hes off, a neighbor´s milk duds before falling asleep, Ratatats LP3 to accompany the feeling of marching likes ants through the airport, and four flights later to Bilbao, where his host aita (dad) picks him up and a beautiful lunch of pescado and Rioja wine. Nothing happened my first day in the Basque Country, except finishing Yiddish Policemens Union, allowing me to sleep easily that night, with one mystery solved.
A small town is not very exciting when you depart with the image of an adventure ahead, only to find that your old friends are all at work and a car is hard to secure. My day trip to San Sebastian, or Donostia in Basque, helped me slow down and appreciate travelling a bit more. I walked up and down the beach, fell twice trying to climb the rocks to get this picture and probably got a sunburn. I wound myself up for four weeks at home, waiting to escape into the wild, only to find myself waiting for a car and my friends to arrive before really embarking on anything. While it sounds like a good idea to slowly build up the excitement over our trip, reaching the unknown lands of Kazakhstan a few weeks in, it is anticlimactic for someone used to jumping in to test the water. I am learning a bit about travelling alone, mostly acquiring my optimistic view that it will get easier with practice. A blind man walks into a bar where Im eating tapas. His friend buys him a drink wearing some strange electronic contraption around his neck. I dont talk to either one of them. Maybe next time. I did some reflecting on how people walk and what it says about them. No conclusions except that I may finally have overcome my long-held desire to be bow-legged so I could look tougher.
Not sure that Ill be talking to any non-profits around here as planned, with a local festival on Saturday, a compact, red Renault 21 to look at and papers to fill out for insurance before my friends arrive on Tuesday. We shall see.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Real Deal
The road lies ahead of me, and despite Fox news reports that Spain is out of gas due to strikes, I'm putting the pedal to the metal, at least on the plane I'm hopping to Bilbao on Tuesday, June 17th. The day approaches and I acquire gear for the real list:
Still need to buy that compass, and I know I'll be using it. Good news is that my old pal, Zuleika, from Azkoitia, Spain, where I attended a year of high school, is parting with his car just in time for my buddies and I to swoop in for the catch. If I can get that to pass inspection and find some car insurance it'll be Mongolia or bust pretty soon.
Generous donations from Whole Earth (mad props) - Osprey Kestrel 48 backpack, Titanium Spork, Petzl Headlamp, Dry Sack, Marmot Rainpants and a few other goodies.
Still need to buy that compass, and I know I'll be using it. Good news is that my old pal, Zuleika, from Azkoitia, Spain, where I attended a year of high school, is parting with his car just in time for my buddies and I to swoop in for the catch. If I can get that to pass inspection and find some car insurance it'll be Mongolia or bust pretty soon.As I finish the final few days of my three week intensive internship (didn't I graduate?) here with HMG & Associates in Austin, I'm preparing for a last minute visa, hopefully procured Monday at the Chinese Consulate in Houston, one day before I leave. I got a few adventures in already this summer - cliff jumping at Pace Bend Park and climbing some slabs out at Enchanted Rock.
Now its time to immerse myself in some non-Texan culture, drink foreign beers and pretend to understand people who talk to me (it's like college all over again). More to come after the jump (over the Atlantic).
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