Germany, Austria, Switzerland by bike

When my boyfriend told me that he told his friend Vincent about our travels to Europe and Vincent took two weeks of vacation insisting we spend that time with him in Germany, I was at once excited and weary. You see, Vincent insisted on taking care of all the plans.. and keeping them secret from us as a “surprise”. Then, he casually mentioned something about biking and camping through Germany, Austria, and Switzerland but wouldn’t go into details. I am not a biker. I haven’t seriously ridden a bike since I was about 14. I knew I should train. I started to go mountain biking with a friend who wanted to get into the sport.  Our first outing was 26miles on pretty windy dirt trails. I was very sore, but imagined we would be going further than that to make it to so many countries by bike in Europe, so I kept training.

When we finally arrived in Germany I still didn’t know what to expect about our time there, but after spending two days, here and four days there I knew I would at least appreciate having a whole two weeks somewhere.  Vincent (the V is pronounced like a W so we call him Winn for short) was very welcoming. His wife, Alexandra, and two year old son, Jonah, were in bed when we finally arrived late by train from Basel. So as we whispered in his living room drinking beer and eating pretzels and sausage as our welcome to Germany snack, Winn announced that we would be leaving the next morning bright and early on our camping trip. His son had been sick and if he wasn’t feeling well it would be just us three and a much more sportier adventure, but if his son was feeling well, it would be a family trip and hopefully more subdued. I went to bed praying the little boy would feel well.

The next morning we awoke and over breakfast decided that it would be a family adventure after all. Winn claimed we had a schedule to keep and so we loaded up his camping van and car full of bikes and camping gear and drove two hours towards something he called the “Baden Sea” and he also mentioned the Alps.  We parked our car in a neighborhood near Alexandra’s uncle’s house. And then we rode our bikes through some city streets, down a narrow cobblestone road and then,  voila.  In the distance we could see sails, and boats on calm clear blue green waters, surrounded by red roofed villages. We were at Lake Constance.  I will let wikipedia explain this lake for reference:

Lake Constance (German: Bodensee) is a lake on the Rhine at the northern foot of the Alps, and consists of three bodies of water: the Obersee (“upper lake”), the Untersee (“lower lake”), and a connecting stretch of the Rhine, called the Seerhein.

The lake is situated in Germany, Switzerland and Austria near the Alps. Specifically, its shorelines lie in the German federal-states of Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg, the Austrian federal-state of Vorarlberg, and the Swiss cantons of Thurgau and St. Gallen. The Rhine flows into it from the south following the Austro-Swiss frontier.

The freshwater lake sits at 395 m (1,296 ft) above sea level and is Central Europe‘s third largest, after Lake Balaton and Lake Geneva. It is 63 km (39 mi) long, and at its widest point, nearly 14 km (8.7 mi). It covers approximately 571 km² (220 sq mi) of total area.[2 "
It was beautiful. And because all three countries border the lake, and it's bike friendly Europe, one could ride the bike specific paths around the lake, and camp in camp-grounds around the lake and stay in one country a day. The bike paths were pretty flat and all paved. If we remembered to wear sunscreen, and hopped in the lake to cool of frequently this would be a leisure trip. It would not be the athletic challenge I feared and trained for.

Jonah might have been two, but his parents had done a lot with him already. He was used to being on a bike, he was well behaved and patient.  He was very easy to camp with. Our first day we rode our bikes from the cars to a port, and rode a Ferry to another shoreline in Germany. We rode for about an hour and a half through parks, campsites, and tourist filled beaches to our own campground. We set up our tents, swam in the lake and awaited the arrival of some friends of Winn's who lived in a town near by. They joined us for an outdoor dinner of couscous and wine. We watched fireworks across the lake in Switzerland, and went to bed. The next morning those same friends brought us breaksfast. We feasted on pretzels, and bread fresh from a bakery and fruit. Then we packed up and continued on to Switzerland.

Crossing the Swiss border was easy on a bike. No one bothered to check our passports or ask questions. There were noticeable differences between the German shore and the Swiss shore though.  In Germany the campsites were nice, and so was the shore.  But it had towns, which were adapted for tourists; nice restaurants, cafes, shops. Then, in between small roads and paths which rode in between apple orchards, and wineries. The in between parts were a mixture of well-kept farms, paved and unpaved roads with bike lanes on the sides but cars could access them, and random access to the lake. The Swiss side had a bike only paths, walking only paths, and car only roads. Each campsite was connected to another in what looked like one big green park, surrounded by wealthy homes and restaurants. The entire Swiss shoreline felt like one big country club. But it also provided a more relaxing, and clean camping environment. Our campsite was on a nice lawn. Right in front of us was a concrete wall with steps down into the water. Nearby was a kiddie pool, a creek with nice bridges, a bar, and restaurant.  There was a place to rent kayaks. This day required a lot more time on a bike. Fortunately and unfortunately it was a beautiful sunny day. But after 8 hours on a bike in the sun we were hot, sweaty, exhausted and very sunburned. My eyelids were even pink. Winn's brother lives in Switzerland. He and his wife brought us dinner. Sausages, beer, salad, corn-on-the-cob, bread, and watermelon. I felt like I was at an American BBQ on the nice mowed lawn called our "campsite". Winn's brother didn't know that it was the Fourth of July for us, but he helped create a very Fourth of July atmosphere.  Everyone speaks English, and well. There was no lack of conversation and everyone, even the other campers were all very convivial, and welcoming. We slept well.

Austria was our goal when we woke up, but our butts were sore and our sunburns were achy. We had originally planned a 5 day trip, but Alexandra who was also in charge of her two year old, influenced the decision to make our Austria campsite our last night of camping. We would stay the night then ride our bikes back into Germany, hop a ferry back to the cars then go home.  Riding to Austria would take about 8 hours again at our slow pace. I had purchased gel-padded bike shorts for this trip, but when I saw the leisurely bike paths and the calm lake I didn't wear them our first two days. I should have. I wore them to Austria. There were guards at the Swiss border, but I didn't even know we crossed the Austrian border until Winn stopped us on the other side of a covered bridge and said, "That bridge is the border, we're in Austria dudes" (he likes to surf, and says "dude" in every sentence spoken in English.) Yes, now that he mentioned it we were suddenly in the country. No more country club. Dirt roads, open fields, rocky shores and smaller beaches lined the Austrian shore. Our campsite was less manicured, the ground dirtier, the insects in abundance, and a good walk to the shoreline. It felt more like real camping.  The showers were nice though, and automatic. Where one had to pay extra for a hot shower in the campsites in Germany, the Austrian shower spewed heavy streams of hot water if one simply

stood underneath the faucet. It had private rooms, to change in as well. Winn swore he was a true camper and would just go for a swim instead of taking a shower on the trip. We all showered in Austria. We passed the time trying to eat up as much food as possible to lighten the load. My boyfriend’s bike had the trailer attached to it and we piled on supplies. By the time we made it to Austria he was very exhausted and lagged behind us all pulling all of our supplies.

We packed up and rode on really sore behinds wordlessly back into Germany. We made it to the ferry and rode it for several hours towards our cars. The ferry ride gave us glimpses of mansions and estates, and port towns on this vast gigantic lake. It was impossible to tell how big it was from the shore but on a boat it was a different type of tour. The ferry was used to having people ride it for a long period of time, and even had a restaurant on it for the hungry. It was a beautiful break from the bikes, and some of the sights were so picturesque.

By the time we made it back to our cars I was four different colors. I already had scars and scabs on my legs from the Roman mosquitoes who thought I was the most delightful thing they’ve ever tasted. But my swimsuit created one tan line, the T shirt on my biggest burn day another, my socks another and my bike shorts another.  I was striped, and un-sexy, and exhausted. But I was happy Winn surprised us with the beautiful Boden sea (Bodensee). Even though our 5 day trip ended in 3, the lake felt like an ocean resort town. It was vast, at once ancient, and modern.  My advice to those planning on biking it around this lake: wear gel bike shorts no matter how ridiculous you feel in them or how much you’ve trained on a bike,  get used to friendly “Hallo’s, and don’t worry about not speaking German. Their English is often better than ours in all three countries.

 

Basel with a Californian and a Mexican.

Ferry across the Rhine in basel. Works by rutter against current only.

Basel is quiet. Everyone is polite. There is a relaxed atmosphere here. This is a city where everyone seems to be on their best behavior.There is no trash, all drivers stop for walkers, and people acknowledge each other on the streets in pleasant ways. They say please and thank you and I haven’t heard a single person raise their voice in anything other than laughter. The people who live here lead by example and one does not want to misbehave, not because of fear of a punishment, but because of an extreme desire to not to offend these friendly, polite, citizens. The day we arrived from Rome to Basel it was as hot as it was in Rome. Fortunately we have a host here, a friend of my boyfriends from Northern California.

One day each summer is the city’s official float down the Rhine River. All the citizens own these plastic water-proof fish bags that can hold all clothes, and tie up with enough air in them to make them float.  Everyone has these bags.  Unlike American massive river parties there are no rafts or tubes, just these fish which don’t really keep one out of the water.  But it doesn’t matter, the water on a hot day is so refreshing, and the clothes and food and beer inside the fish stay dry.  There are places all along the river to get out and have a beer or a barbeque. Not only were we lucky enough to arrive on a hot day, we were lucky enough to arrive on this official day; so immediately after picking us up from the train station our host had us change into our swimsuits and put everything in a fish bag and we found ourselves floating down the Rhine with a bunch of other citizens.

After coming from Rome and London, two cities with so much business, it was surprisingly relaxing and familiar seeing so many people in flip-flops and swimsuits. Our host’s friend was from Mexico.  It was also surprising to find this Mexican personality so familiar as well.  I guess as far as foreigners go, to a Californian, Mexico is almost home. For the first time I almost forgot I was in Europe. There were some minor differences though. Instead of going to a taco cart for a burrito as we would after a float down the Sacramento River, we went to get a Doner Kabob from a Turkish shop.

Despite all this familiarity Basel has some small treasures. A paper museum uses an old fashioned water wheel to make paper the old fashioned way. One can make their own paper and get a hands on experience there.  Also, our host is a graphic designer who hooked us up with a one on one tour of a poster archive at one of the top design schools.  At this point in our trip we had seen Michelangelo, Bernini, Rafael,  Leonardo da Vinci… but the Swiss have a unique art history in Posters. Having a professor explain this art-form and take us from the early 1900′s all the way to the modern posters was a fascinating and refreshing art tour.

Basel was at once refreshing and familiar, but please don’t forget: just because they are laid-back does not mean it’s ok to forget to say please, “bitta” and thank you, “merci”.

When In Rome; Do what the Romans do… eat!

Panchetta e fungi pizza

Perhaps my impressions of the cities I visit are biased because I am only in each one for such a short period of time, and I have always just come from somewhere else, and so there is always a clear comparison between the two cities. For example, upon arrival in Rome, I had just arrived from Prague, and Prague from London. I believe I found Prague to be so quiet, and a bit easy going, only because I just left London where we tried to do too much and everything moved at a brisk pace.

That being said, Rome’s airport seemed neglected and slightly dirty in comparison to Prague’s, and this led me to believe in that first instant that the city outside of Rome would be as well. We rode a bus into a city that was busy, and somewhat tropical. It reminded me of San Diego at first, until we arrived at the bus stop and Termini, the major metro and train station. Everything was louder and less organized compared to Prague. Because of this, we took a taxi to our apartment in the Trastevere neighborhood, a neighborhood of ex-pats, students, and long time locals. The cab driver dropped us off at the square (piazza), instead of our door. He wouldn’t drive into the maze that was our neighborhood. My first glimpse of Trastavere, as well as the rest of Rome, was overwhelming. Amidst the constant walkers, restaurant patios, news stands, and tobacci shops, there were  mazes of streets (what we would call narrow walk ways that people drive on), and many languages can be heard on these skinny, tiny little roads while dodging tiny cars and little scooters.

Rome is hot, there are smells, but I was told it would stink and it didn’t stink. The buildings are tall, there are statues everywhere, the sun is hot, there are all kinds of people of all kinds of colors, and languages everywhere. It overwhelms the senses. But then, after the arrival, and the check-in has occurred, and the freshening up happens so you can finally get something to eat, something else happens. Again, expect slower and more indifferent service than the states, but somewhat friendlier service than in Prague; and also expect great, amazing, simple food that tells your body something new about the city. Its a statement on how to approach the city. Your body reacts to the food somehow. It makes you shift gears in away, and then the chaos and overload that is Rome when you first arrive, slows down. Its like you arrive on fast forward and then someone puts it on regular speed. Our host warned us about pickpockets and traveling on public transit. We responded to what the food was trying to tell us and we decided to walk everywhere.  Pickpockets can’t target you when you are always walking. We had a great time. Walking allows us to move at a relative easy speed. There is so much to Rome, every building has a story and a statue, and a square, there are layers upon layers of history, and monuments. Literally layers. But the food says take one bite at a time, and savor it. So in Rome I say take one step at a time, one glance at a time and savor it. Only in this way can you notice the rich layers of Rome.

If you can adapt an easy manner like the locals and take your time, you can be safe, and enjoy. While the English is more broken in Rome, the casual way of approaching life is more familiar to me as a Californian. Walking makes Rome accessible. What I have learned is to let things happen as they happen. Our first night here we waited over a half an hour in a busy restaurant to get our drinks served to us. Instead of getting angry we just let things happen. The meal turned out to be the best meal we would have in Rome. The following night a party from England seated next to us had a difficult time. They kept saying “well Italian restaurants in England did it this way” and they interpreted the slower service as a personal attack on them because they were foreigners.  Don’t assume in Rome. Just listen to the food and do what it says.. let the simple ingredients be a lesson; if you wait they will melt into something delicious and multilayered. If you wait, you will melt into Rome.

When in Prague

View from South Tower in the Cathedral

In Prague one can expect beautiful architecture and helpful people.  Many people speak English and those who don’t can read mime if one is good enough at charades.  People tend to be good-natured and fairly easy going. They eat fried cheese for dinner.  Portions are large in restaurants.   Prague is far less hectic than London.  While Prague is still a city, it is also a bit of a small town. The things I’ve learned while in Prague are waiters will be ambivalent towards one’s needs, a tip is  expected but they expect more if you are not trying to speak the language, and quietness is valued on public transit, and in restaurants. My host explained that the waiting staff in restaurants feel a bit of an ambivalent attitude towards their customers because of left-over communist attitudes when everyone had one place and one place only to get certain things.  The lack of choice created a “whatever” attitude when it came to customer service. I actually did not expect the same type of service in Europe anyway.  Americans are used to being quickly seated, quickly fed, the table quickly cleared and the bill quickly delivered. In our capitalist attitude, the quicker people are fed the sooner they leave and the more customers can make it into a restaurant. I did not expect this in Europe and expected to have to flag down my wait staff when I wanted something, especially the bill.  One particular restaurant took a very long time to get the attention of the servers, a very long time to get the food, and an even longer time to get the bill.  My hosts explained that this was not normal Czech service, that the flagging down was normal but food is usually delivered quickly.  When the waiter does come the waiter is usually friendly.  One more thing, it is actually ok to walk around with an open container of beer.  One can walk around drunk, and drinking.  Someone can be fall-down drunk and no one will say anything as long as they are not stumbling into people or starting fights.  This feels strange to me because where I come from we are not allowed to drink in parks, on the street, or act drunk in public without being told by some authority to leave or fined.  We had beers for a picnic in a park and felt like degenerates the whole time. One more thing I’ve learned, is that phrase books are not helpful.  In our mixed bowl of American sounds it is very difficuld to recognize  if that “0″ in the how to pronounce example next to the real spelling of the word sould be pronounced as “aaaah” “uhhh” “ooooo” or “oh”. Words need to be modeled.  I feel like an idiot trying to pronounce the words out of a guide book and wish I had someone explain the basic “please”, “thank you”, “excuse me” and “do you speak English” to me before I went out on my own and tried to figure it out.  Overall Prague has some surprises but a nice easy feel to it.  I like it here.

London ways

View at Night

I just left London and spent 4 days there.  I was actually shocked at how similar the culture is to the U.S. It is very touristy and modernized. One thing I will admit to not being able to figure out…. if England is a country with a rule about driving on the Left instead of the right side of the road, shouldn’t that rule apply to sidewalks, stairwells as well?  I thought so.. and tried it, but perhaps it was so busy that there was not way to maintain order.  It didn’t seem to matter which side of the sidewalk one walked on or which side of the stairwell one stepped on.  Perhaps this is because there are so many tourists in London, Londoners are just used to it and this rule does still stay in tact in other parts of England.  I also have a hard time not tipping in London, because many charge an “optional” service charge… so are we expected to tip or not?  Other than that I expected a land of refinement and manners, which everyone was pretty polite but not necessarily refined… and everyone eats McDonald’s and carries Starbucks coffee. I did not feel like that much of a foreigner in London.  I did feel broke however.  Everything was very expensive.

The World and it’s Ways

Ladies and gentlemen, I brought up in a previous post that there were going to be further posts to provide opportunities to discuss cultural customs that would be nice to know about before we travel.  That was a long time ago. But now, with the help of my wonderful boyfriend, I get to travel the world! Well not quite the whole world just yet. We are starting with  Europe. And to make matters even sweeter, this wonderful boyfriend happens to be a graphic designer! So not only will this blog come back to life, it hopefully will look good too! I also mentioned that I would be posting based on topic instead of country.  I find that format to be limiting, and difficult to find inspiration.  So instead I am going to use the country I’m currently visiting and my experiences there as a springboard to discuss similar experiences others may have had elsewhere. In this way the discourse will be about the topic. For example, the topic may be hygiene, or tipping, instead of London, or France even though the experience might take place in London or France.  I leave for London on Saturday. I will be in Europe for five weeks. This trip will be an exhausting, exciting and fascinating whirlwind of London, Prague, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Rome, Paris and southern France. If you too have a fascination with culture, and suffer from the occasional wanderlust please stay tuned and contribute your experiences!

 

Finding a way.

Hello,

I would like to introduce my intentions for Where Me Go Now?  But first some background:

Back in college I signed up for a mandatory writing course so that I would be on track to graduate with a BA in English.  The course was a Research Writing Seminar.  I, for the first time in a long time, could research a subject I was passionate about.  I chose to research on the topic of Americans who travel abroad and the cultural habits which inhibit or disturb their travels. This turned out to be a terrible topic for an academic research paper. It’s a difficult topic to reasearch. All of the sources I found on the subject were items of marketing for travel companies, hotels, or airlines. There are authors who touch on it, Rick Steves is one, but they are also busy talking about what to see and do.  The educational level on the “I wish I knew” isn’t particularly focused on. What I needed was interviews with travelers to spread the word on those things we don’t think about before we visit another country. We remember our toothbrush, our electric converters, even our guidebooks. Often we forget to think of researching the cultural customs.

 I am sorry to say that I wanted the topic to work so bad that I spent too much time forcing it.  I had to drop the course and save it for another semester because I did not leave myself enough time to find an easier subject.  However, I realized that if someone really wanted information on this topic, there wasn’t much out there!  It was a calling in a way.

I have a great respect for culture and a strong desire to travel the world.  I have been to several locations and all of them with an open mind and a willingness to participate. As a result, I’ve always learned volumes about the culture, myself, and I’ve had a great adventure.  I have also run into other travelers who are not so willing. These people, in retelling their adventures, focus on negative experiences.   I find that many people who travel, Americans or not, can have a bad trip if they don’t do the following : 

•  Learn about a culture’s expectations and  traditions, be prepared to join in,and expect to play along out of respect to that culture (we would expect visitors to our own home to follow the rules out of respect so we should too).
• If faced with a situation where you break a rule, apologize and sincerely ask for an explanation of the rule.  Do it correctly and continue to do it correctly. If you catch yourself forgetting the custom, correct it immediately and ask for forgiveness. People are very forgiving if it looks like you’re trying.
• Be willing to engage and accept help from the people of the culture.  So many people are good, understanding, have great senses of humor, and are willing to help.  If you see them all as “strangers” and you reject them out of fear, your trip could feel like one of isolation instead of one of joy and discovery.

Sometimes people just have a bad trip despite the fact that they embraced the culture and traditions with open arms and an open mind. These cases are regretful and minimal.  Often attitude and action can not only save a vacation, it can be a form of activism.  This blog is intended to provide a forum where people can talk about interesting differences in customs that they have come across in their travels.  These should be customs which made a difference in their experience, and encounters they wish they knew to expect so they had a strategy to handle the situation when they experienced it.  These issues, if not dealt with properly, could begin a theme of “rudeness” and “‘disgustedness” in one’s interpretation of their travels; or just leave the traveler feeling embarrassed and therefore more likely to interpret the situation as a “bad” one.

Where Me Go Now blogs, where commentary is encouraged, will be focusing on individual topics instead of specific countries.  It is hoped that commentary will provide the specific locations, customs, and cultures we will learn about through this discourse.