DAY 36: A Will Hall-Smith Tour of Brighton

Just as it was the day before, our second day in Brighton was ridiculously sunny and warm—no complaints on my behalf! After a slow start in the morning, we headed into the center of town, ditched the car in a parking garage, and started walking—but not before some of Brighton’s most important landmarks were pointed out from the car by our tour guide. The Budgens near the rail station is a focal point for the locals, and the Fitness First next door exclusively serves the ‘fat old women’ of Brighton. The first stop of the day (following that brief interlude) was the Lanes, the oldest part of Brighton which is now a large cluster of small shops and boutiques with narrow lanes connecting them in a near labyrinth pattern. We only entered a few of the shops, partially due to the excessively loud group of school children blazing their way through the tight channels. 

One of the shops we entered was a record store, apparently one of Will’s favourite places as a young school boy, but JJ and I were a bit distracted from the music; the local record stores all distribute anti-stress packets and we were fascinated! Inside each paper envelope was a variety of fliers for upcoming artists and soon to come local shows, as well as two full sized, double sided posters for various artists. JJ snagged one (since they are FREE!) and we proceeded to exit before the kids blocked the doorway. Along the way to lunch, we also stopped in an antique military paraphernalia shop and did a bit of ring shopping… but my tastes were too expensive. What a shame… The collectively starving trio munched down on Mexican food at a small café, which surprisingly wasn’t half bad! My nachos were a bit much though and became a sort of communal dish.

The Lanes

The Pavilion was next on the Will Hall-Smith Tour of Brighton, and we passed many other sites of interest in the life of the aforementioned individual along the way. The Pavilion, as the name states, is a large, luxurious estate in the middle of the urban area that used to serve as the ‘party house’ of the royals for a short period. Best described by their own display slogan, ‘dress for excess’, the palace was decadent and did not allow photos to be taken inside…perhaps the first time I’ve ever followed such rules, due to the ridiculous number of staff watching every inch of every room. Our esteemed tour guide gave us a thorough informational tour…via handheld recordings available at the front desk, which we picked up after his failed attempt to disguise JJ and myself as locals to gain a discounted entry fee…Too bad my lack of ID gave us away, I thought for sure my accent was correct (not). The interior decorating was Asian-themed and much of the original décor had been restored after the palace was bought by the Brighton council, who must be footing a massive bill to cover the platinum leaf wall paper in the music room… Apparently the dragon chandelier in the dining hall used to scare away a number of the lady guests of George IV, who had the Pavilion built through sectional remodeling of an old farm house. After we finished our indoor stint, we couldn’t help but visit the garden, where one tourist couple made better poses than any we had seen in previous locations!

Whilst not a fan of the pier, Tour Guide Hall-Smith led the way to the famous Brighton Pier, where we wandered up and down the sides. JJ didn’t buy into the story that the Helter Skelter on the Brighton Pier was the source of inspiration for a Beatles Song, especially after Will and Alistair tried to tell us that Abbey Road in Brighton was the location that inspired that album by the Beatles…even though we both knew beforehand that it wasn’t. Bad luck for JJ, I just Googled it—apparently Will was right…? http://www.examiner.com/rock-music-in-san-francisco/more-than-words-it-s-time-for-helter-skelter.

We grabbed some deck chairs and caught some sunshine, with the sun on the horizon in the same direction as one of Brighton’s older piers that had been burned down, and funny enough it was on fire again. How do you burn a metal frame of a pier??? The fire managed to draw the attention of all the local emergency services, who then blocked off the waterfront and consequently caused miles (literally) of traffic jams that stretched from Brighton to Hove. The drive back to the house was an adventure of mixed side streets to avoid main roads, but nevertheless took longer than expected due to the traffic. After just a short break at the house, we hopped back in the car and drove fearlessly into the traffic jams.

The evening plans included a New Zealand style hamburger joint and the local comedy club, both of which lived up to the hype our tour guide had promulgated throughout the day. The hamburgers, which were larger than both of my fists put together, required a fork and knife to eat—we tried without, and gave up about one third of the way in. No thanks to the traffic, we were running behind and were worried that we wouldn’t get good seats for the show… but have no fear, the comedy club was right next to the restaurant! Our pre-booked tickets got us a fast track in and we grabbed one of the few sets of four seats we could find, which gave us an angled view of the stage. Quoting comedians doesn’t quite have the same effect as a live show, but here is a link to our favourite act of the night: http://www.lorettamaine.com/. We are unsure of her origins due to an ambiguous biography on Wikipedia, but if she isn’t American then she deserves an award for most deceiving fake accent of all time. After the show, we headed to Pav Tav to meet up with some of our tour guide’s acquaintances and headed to another pub for a bit to round out the evening.

One of the many poses another tourist made as we walked around the gardens...

Watching the old pier burn... even if we didn't know that's what we were watching

Day 35: ...what happened again?

Writing this about 2 weeks later is much harder than I would have thought.  Especially because I'm writing about Brighton. The day pretty much went as follows:


Left Georgie's house. Rode on a train for awhile.  Got off in Brighton. Wandered around.  Went to sleep.

PICTURES ARE UP!

Hey everyone! Our trip is over now, but since we've been slacking on the blog, we still have a few days left to write...butttt have no fear, we added pictures to Venice and Germany posts, and updated the blog through Guildford. Brighton and our return to Durham have yet to be written, stay tuned! (but JJ has assignments due Thursday, so it might be a few more days...) Write comments if you have them, we want to know what you think!

DAY 34:Is it acceptable to lick my knife???

After a late start in the morning (go figure), we set off for London around noon, loaded down with bags (ok, one bag) full of clothes to change into for our afternoon tea. The Chesterfield Hotel didn't have a dress code, but we figured it would be best to be overdressed than underdressed. As we came up from the tube at Piccadilly Circus, the streets looked a lot like any other European city, with tall buildings from centuries past lining the streets like a labyrinth. But one thing was different—unlike JJ's visit in December, Regents Street, owned by the crown, has been decorated for the royal wedding and had the Union Jack hanging in rows overhead. Someone else had also found themselves caught up in the decorating fever and decided to adorn a nearby monument as well...

We walked down Regent Street towards Oxford Street, and then turned back to find Liberty, one of the more high scale department stores off of Regent Street, which I have been told is an important landmark in the history of London shopping. After touring the first three floors of goods which were excessively overpriced ('It's strange to think that one of these is worth more than my entire wardrobe'--JJ) and of debatable attractiveness (I don't get high fashion... it's weird), we found a Starbucks to change in and headed towards Mayfair for tea, donning dresses and tennisshoes (yeah, in the middle of London. We rocked that look). Upon arrival at the Chesterfield Hotel (after putting on more suitable footwear), Georgie lead us to the cafe where we were led to a quaint tea area in an indoor atrium. While it was an enjoyable and extremely entertaining experience, afternoon tea is not my thing. Believe it or not, there was too much sugar for even my liking, but I will nevertheless recount the meal to you.

Upon seating us at the corner table, a waiter came over to place our napkins on our laps (awkward?) and a subsequent waiter came to take our order for tea. In normal fashion, Georgie ordered Earl Grey, and JJ and I lived life on the edge with a bit of Darjeeling (for me) and Ceylon (for her). I have just been informed that '[the ceylon] was excellent by the way' and 'from Sri Lanka.' Amazazing. As I was saying, we struck up a lovely conversation appropriate for an afternoon tea, focusing on our jewelery and the females in our family who had contributed to our life choices, many of whom were made up... obviously, I don't have a Great Aunt Edna. Such falsehoods were required, as JJ and I don't have very well developed conversational skills for such a proper setting, and we felt the need to live up to the ridiculous image of ourselves that we were imposing upon the servery staff. Honestly, what group of university aged girls dresses up to go to afternoon tea in Mayfair?

Lunch!

 

The tea arrived in individual pots, and the waiter extracted the loose leaf tea and poured each of our cups. Following a bit of tea sipping, and mixing in (a lot) of sugar on my behalf, the food arrived, carefully stacked on a tiered serving platter. We eagerly began our cultural culinary adventure and enjoyed the first level of finger sandwiches, which included salmon, cucumber, egg salad, ham and cheese, and strange (but DELICIOUS) hazelnut encrusted sandwiches. The next course was scones, which tasted amazing, and I was informed by both Georgie and JJ that I used too much cream...what can I say, I needed to make up for the lack of butter in my life over the past 5 weeks! The top tier was the most unique, consisting of many puddings, mostly traditional as the current theme for afternoon tea is the royal wedding. The first pudding we snacked on was traditional wedding cake, very similar to Christmas pudding (but a bit nicer). The fruitcake-esque slices were followed by the consumption of Will and Kate cupcakes, a citrus sponginess topped with creamy frosting. The best part of the cupcakes was the edible Will and Kate topper; as there had only been two toppers but three cupcakes, JJ and I split the royal couple, who tasted a bit...pasty. With the future King dethroned, we moved on to the cream filled sponges, and then followed it all up the Queen's Pudding, which was a bit like creme brulee with sponge cake in the middle. After drinking another pot of tea each (JJ switched flavours to some flower tea, which had an urchin-like dried flower sitting at the bottom of the pot), we excused ourselves and parted ways, Georgie off to her voice lesson and the two Americans off to meet up with another American.

A pot of urchin juice. Also known as JJ's second tea.

Making our ways towards the Eye, where we were to meet up with my friend Corey from Cornell, JJ and I found Green Park and opted to sprawl across the grass to enjoy the finest weather London could have offered. It was difficult to pry ourselves from the grasp of the warm oasis in the midst of this metropolis, but after much convincing, we headed past Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, and Westminster Abbey to cross the river and hop on the Eye. The views were grand, as the clear day allowed us to see to the edges of urbanisation, and I enjoyed catching up with Corey. Following our rotation around the Eye, we met up with Georgie and walked through some of London's other landmarks, including the West End and Chinatown. Our feet were getting weary, and we called the day a success as we headed back to Guildford.

One side of the river from the Eye....

And the other!

Once back at Georgie's, we enjoyed an excellent meal of salad, breaded pork, and a variety of toppings. Even better than the food was the new show that Georgie had gotten us hooked on, called 'Would I lie to you?' Check out a few of the episodes on youtube if you've never seen this show! It's a riot, and we stayed up into the wee hours of the night, until we could no longer keep our eyelids open.

the menu...

Green Park

some house in the middle of London...whose? I dunno...

DAY 33: Guildford at last

After our late night coming in, we assumed that we would finally sleep for quite a bit, especially because Georgie had an appointment at 9. However, our “colds” in conjunction with our usual routine, woke us up long before 8 and Katie was down having breakfast with Mrs. Lyon before Georgie's alarm went off. I joined them after attempting to woo sleep again and the three of us had a nice breakfast of toast.

We spent the morning catching up on things—showers, primarily—and when we were complete, we wandered down to Guildford proper for a tour of the little village by Georgie. I must say that it was certainly a lovely day and we couldn't have asked for better weather since we've been back in England. The sun was out, the flowers were definitely out—especially in the garden/park area where we sat and had our picnic lunch within the walls of the castle grounds. It was a really nice, relaxing day, mostly because there's not much to do in Guildford. They have a main street that is definitely very quaint with the little shops lining the sides and tons of young people were out and about seeing as it was part of their holiday week. Sitting in the little garden area, where we had to forcefully stake out our position, we watched people and chatted. I made a friend in a small boy who must have been maybe a year old. He certainly couldn't walk at any rate. He made an escape from the other side of the wall where some children were playing with their parents and I suppose that he and I provided entertainment for the other two, seeing as he would giggle every time I would lift my hands and say “whaaaat??”. He finally got close enough, reached out and put a hand on my knee......and then promptly giggled and trundled off to the dirt, where his (mother?) caught him and took him back after warning us about “this one.”

After our delightful lunch, we caught a ride back with Georgie's mother who showed us some of the old buildings that had been there since Guildford had been a wee little village. There was a building that had been built in the Jacobean times that now housed the members of Guildford who had lived their for over 60 years and were of limited means, provided for by charity and the residence's munificence. After, we proceeded to have tea back at the house, where we attempted to sort out what we were going to do in London the following day. G was dead set on taking us to high tea, seeing as it was a once in a lifetime experience. Then we had to figure out where, and which was cheapest for a 'proper' tea (£26 ended up being the cheapest) and what we wanted to do. Katie wasn't bothered by anything, which was nice in that we got to figure out a relatively simple plan, but TOTALLY UNHELPFUL in our attempt to figure out what she would like seeing in an afternoon's whirlwind trip through downtown London. After about 4 hours (no joke) we finally settled on walking Piccadilly to Oxford Street by walking up Regents and seeing Libertys (G was insistant), then curving back into Mayfair and having tea, to be followed by a stroll through Green Park (which I definitely fell in love with), past Buckingham Palace, and then across Westminister bridge to the Eye. Georgie also suggested that we show Katie the West End at night, which we then had to debate, seeing as we'd have to stay longer as the sun refuses to set here until nearly 8. But in the end, we were sorted and went off to have dinner at the Lyons' favorite Chinese restaurant.

It was quite good food, though instead of Chinese, it was rather Vietnamese, Thai, and “Peking” according to the menu. We got loads of food and I must admit that I am pretty bad with chopsticks, but managed to figure them out halfway through the dinner, which I was definitely proud of seeing as everyone else looked like they were managing without trouble. I think I may have provided some entertainment for Mr. Lyon as I think I may have dropped some chicken at one point. Or several.

Regardless, it was a very good meal and we returned home to have some desert (fantastic hot chocolate) and chat for awhile before bed, watching the hilarious tv show that Katie will describe more in the next blog.

Guildford castle grounds

Downtown Guildford

DAY 32: 'Oh, I like this song!'

The morning started with a rush, as we all rolled out of bed terribly early to drive into town and see the Hamburg Fish Market, which is 'unlike anything you will see anywhere else' (to quote our hosts). Whilst appearing at face value to be just another market, the Sunday morning venue was packed with people who had all gathered to wander the stretch of harbour that hosts large trailers of produce, plants, clothing, meats, and other goods—but the vendors here have a unique way of selling their produce. One of the largest markets in Germany, historically speaking, the market originally sold fresh fish from the boats and the excessive amount of sellers made it difficult to attract the attention of buyers. Thus, the sellers began using their voices to gain the attention of pedestrians, and the tradition continues today—the larger stalls have salesmen pitching their goods to crowds at the top of their lungs. Often, the goods are sold in bundles for prices lower than you can get at the grocer, making it optimal to buy their large bags. The most famous fish salesman in the market had once again enraptured the growing cluster of attendees near his trailer, and we've filmed a bit of it for you to see! Except it happened to disappear before I could upload it... he was speaking German anyways, would have been a bit difficult to understand.

After wandering the stalls, we went to the indoor section of the market, which housed a live band and numerous coffee stalls. I don't typically (read: EVER) drink coffee, but this morning I accepted our host's offer and downed a cup of boiling, bitter caffeine to clear up my sinuses. The smoke from the game the day before had managed to burn out my sinus system, as well as JJ's, and the two of us were feeling a bit under the weather (massive understatement). We headed back to the house and packed our bags, preparing for a long journey ahead. Our scheduled travel included:

EasyJet Flight from Hamburg to London Luton: CHECK. After finding a parking spot, Hendrik, Sandra, JJ, and I got drinks at a cafe and killed the spare time. Our flight was a bit delayed, and caused more headache than necessary, even though we landed only a few minutes behind schedule. The flight attendants dismissed my concern about missing our train, but let's be honest—there is only a matter of seconds between being able to board a train and watching it leave the station. They must not take the train often...

Pass through customs: CHECK. Sort of. JJ, with her cute little British passport flew through the EU lines, and I got stuck behind some poor man who was blatantly the subject of racial profiling. In the ONLY non-EU passport line. And the man at the counter closed after dealing with him. And the man controlling the flow of people wouldn't let me switch lines. Where did he plan on sending non-EU citizens if there is no line?! Idiots....everywhere...

Bum a ride from Emma: CHECK. We met up with Emma after baggage claim and hopped in for our short ride to the Luton Station to catch a train. No bumps in this part of our trip!

Take the 19.48 train from Luton to Wimbledon. (fail). Poorly marked signs and mixed directions led us to believe that we needed the train to Sutton from Platform 2, because Platform 1 (the advised platform) had a train marked for Brighton. Following jokes about going straight to Brighton, the train left Platform 1, and we watched it leave as the PA announced (after the doors shut) that it was the 19.48 train to Sutton...

Great. We had made it through five countries and nearly five weeks without a missed train, bus, or flight. And now that we had returned to England, we had missed our first train. Following a few less that happy calls and checking the timetables, we boarded the 20.20 train to Sutton, got off at Wimbledon, and were greeted by Georgie and her dad, a very pleasing relief.

Take the 21.50 train from Wimbledon to Guildford...you should have figured out by now that this got scratched, much to my discontent (since these were the tickets I spent hours trying to book). Nevertheless, we reached G's house in perfect time for dinner (not...it was a bit more like midnight snack) and headed to bed after an excessively long day...

The river that runs next to Hendrik's house, and into Hamburg

DAY 31:

Today was supposed to be our sleep-in day, but Sandra had to get up for work at 4 am so I was up, and then again at 8 or so. We had a fairly lazy morning, getting ready for the football game that was the plan for the day, around

We hopped (literally—we ran to it) on the the train to downtown, which gradually filled up with more and more drunk fans. Apparently, Hamburg was playing Hannover, which meant it was a friendly rivalry. Hendrik and his dad explained that normally, the police—their version of riot police—swarmed the train stops to keep people under control. His dad was even hit with a baton one time for walking too slow while talking on the phone at one of the rowdier matches—super intense.

We got to the stadium finally after another run to catch the bus that went from the train to the stadium proper, and took pictures of the empty place seeing as we were about an hour early. This was so that we could go see the museum that was in the stadium that talked about its—and the team's—history. The original stadium was downtown and very small; renovations in the 60s brought it to the stadium that it was today, albeit older. We got to hold one of the trophies they had won—they've won many in the last half century—and wandered around the museum that is dedicated to HSV's history.

After, we went back to our seats—in the standing section only with the other fan(atics) right behind one of the goals. It was really awesome to be there, even if we didn't speak German, because of the atmosphere. Downside however: the guy in front of me smoked like a chimney. And they were the worst possible cigarettes in the world: the smoke billowed out as he chain-smoked his way through the game. Let me paint a picture: I'm standing between Hendrik and his dad, leaning on the metal pole that was there for the standing people. This guy was in front of me a little to the right, leaning back on the metal that I was leaning forward on, so my head was near the back left side of his. He looked about 60 or 70, but as Katie pointed out, with all the smoking he could have been 50 tops. So, I glance over and see this mole-like protrusion from his left temple, but so, so much worse. It looked like it had bubbled and then built upon itself, flattening out and drooping as it got larger. He definitely had hair sprouting fro his ears and from the protrusion itself (don't judge—we had a bit of time before the game started and the warm ups finished). Then he raised his cigarette to his mouth...and I saw his fingernails, at least a quarter of an inch thick, and a deep, sickly yellow, like the result that some people get on their toes from tropical fungi. But this was on all of his fingers. He then proceeded to blow out the foul poisoned air out of his nose, mouth, and even his ears, I'm sure of it (just kidding—but I wouldn't have been surprised if it had happened). I then battled his curling smoke and blew it back over his shoulder when I could see it wafting towards me...a futile act, I must acknowledge, due to the fact that we could see the smoke from the upper stands tumbling down onto our level. Katie didn't fare much better, being too short to see, she had moved up a step and surrounded by three more smokers.

Ok, that was a necessary description, just to give you a sense of how close everyone was together. But other than that, it was really fun! Really! I've been to a few college football games but never a professional one like this, so it was awesome to see all the hardcore fans yelling in unison. There were many songs that were sung, a banner (see picture) that was displayed over all of us, and lots of groans and yelling as the teams failed to perform.

The game itself wasn't terribly great—I asked Hendrik about the #11 player five minutes into the game and he confirmed what was definitely obvious: #11 was supposed to be amazing and everything, but he was actually just a hotshot who couldn't complete a cross or hold onto the ball. You could tell; he had orange boots while everyone else was matching in blacks/whites. And, obviously, by the way he played. The first half was definitely not good for HSV, but they picked it up and dominated the second—though never scoring, though they had several opportunities.

After the game, we beat the crowds back to the train and made it home in one piece. We met Sandra and Iris for dinner in a nice restaurant, where I proceeded to mutilate my half chicken that I got, while Katie decided to get a schnitzel, and both were fairly nice. After, we mulled about at the house until the evening, when we went to the firestation (three doors down) and celebrated the birthday of another friend. This one was much more sedated than Hendrik's had been—no raucous dancing <KATIE'S COMMENT: EXCUSE me, it was not RAUCOUS dancing the night before either. That would imply that it was a sexually charged dance, which it was the COMPLETE opposite. DISLIKE the word choice.> by Katie and her firefighter/plumber man who was there (facebook friend request still pending)--and we learned many new (awesome!) dance moves from Sandra, Hendrik, and their friends. We stayed until a bit past midnight and then began the long walk home—all 100 meters max—knowing that we had to be up at half 6 the next day in order to get to the fish market in Hamburg proper. All in all, a long but very interesting day.

At the museum, holding a trophy from the 70's

DEDICATION!

During the singing of the team's anthem, it is tradition to hold up your scarves

Schnitzel restaurant!

DAY 30: '...but you couldn't pronounce that, so we called it a hamburger.'

Following the escapades of the night before, we all woke up a bit more tired than usual. JJ and I had held our own, and were not hungover, unlike our gracious host. After a breakfast of rolls and scrambled eggs, Sandra, JJ, and I headed into the town to pick up the car and go on a sightseeing tour. Everything was fine until we got on the bus, which was like an oven on wheels—and the only available seats were above the heater. None of the windows were open and there was a strange feeling in the bus, which decided to manifest itself in extreme stomach pains and nausea for all three of us... and no, we weren't hung over—Sandra felt sick from it as well and she hadn't had any drinks the night before. Regardless, the walk to the car from the bus stop was a welcomed breath of air and we looked forward to the open top tour bus.

The bus tour started at the main rail station in Hamburg, which was built over 150 years ago and is one of the largest in Germany—quite appropriate for the country's second largest city. The first leg of the tour to the harbour was through the area we had explored the day before, but this time we got a bit of historical background. The town hall (an extremely beautiful building) has a plaza in front that was modelled after the San Marco plaza in Venice, a nearby church that we thought was just your average church was actually the 14th century St. Nikolai Kirche, and the tower that reminded us of the buildings in Edinburgh was never intentionally built to look black and ominous—it was formerly a church that the Americans bombed in World War II and all that remained standing was the tower, now seen as a memorial of what war does to a country. The guide, who refused to translate much of what he was saying (even though he could have) left that job for Sandra, but when he did speak in English, it was often tinged with sardonic bitterness, presumably at our American origins and our stay in England (he was unimpressed to say the least).

Upon reaching the harbour, we learned that the harbour is over 830 years old and functions as one of the largest ports in Europe, tenth largest in the world. JJ and I had never realised that Hamburg played such an important role in the European economy! There is an annual celebration of the harbour's birthday, and upon boasting its age, the guide turned to us and said (with the mic still on) 'At that point in time, in America you had nothing. And WE had a harbour.' Good for you sir, but he clearly never studied American history—the Native Americans were well established to start with, and secondly, JJ and I have discussed (many times) how white Americans are all of European descent, regardless of whether or not Europeans acknowledge that point...so, we didn't really find it as insulting as he tried to make it. The slander continued for the rest of the trip, which took us around many of the newer areas of Hamburg, including Europe's most expensive apartment complex, the area of town where the Beatles began their career, and the wealthy residencies that border the Alster, a picturesque lake in the center of the city.

The original plan had been to get off at the harbour and take a tour by boat as well, but at this point we were getting a bit sleepy from the bus ride and we decided to drive to the harbour and get some coffee instead. The view from the waterfront cafe was spectacular and the harbour was really neat in that it is still a functioning harbour and the barges and large boats passing through would leave massive wakes that rocked the cafe.

The view of the harbour from the cafe

A few hours later, we headed back to the house to revitalise before Hendrik's birthday party—but our revitalisation didn't work out as well as planned, since I just sat around eating haribo and JJ wrote yesterday's blog. Around 7:30, guests began arriving and we decided it was probably best to join the group in the backyard and MY GOSH it was COLD! We should have never jumped from Italy to northern Germany...

As is appropriate, dinner consisted of sausages and steaks, accompanied by bread, potato salad, and pasta salad, along with 5 crates of beer and an assortment of other beverages. We opted to find a casual seat near the door of the enclosed patio and enjoyed the meal, but had limited interactions with the other guests, who didn't really speak English (until they were a few drinks in...amazing how that works). Around 10:45, we headed back in to the house to warm up, and next thing I know, I'm asleep.

That's not the end. I woke up a while later to two Germans sitting on the edge of the couch I have been using for a bed, staring at me wondering why I was asleep. Only one of them really spoke any English, and the general consensus was that all of the guests wanted to know where the Americans had ended up and why we weren't at the party. Following a poor string of excuses, their conclusion was 'Oh, so... you don't know how to party.' Long story short, challenge accepted.

Upon returning to the party outside, JJ and I were welcomed by a more fluently English group who had managed to finish off all of the beer and much of the other drinks as well. Neither of us were particularly keen on having drinks, especially since we don't drink soda and the beverage being thrust at us was whiskey and coke. The boys who had woken me up were thoroughly pleased with their success, and proceeded to tell me that in order to get the 'full German experience', I needed to drink as they do—'You have two hands, you have two drinks.'

Ok fine, I'll hold two drinks but I certainly wasn't going to finish them. The boys were especially pleased when I had been singled out by one of their friends, who didn't speak any English (at the time) and enlisted the help of a short woman, who facilitated a very, very awkward conversation that culminated in me dancing with the very drunk plumber/firefighter, who talked in circles about driving the fire brigade car, having to work as a plumber for his father's company, and not speaking English. JJ, loving the situation from across the party, carried on a casual conversation with other guests who wanted to know why Americans can't speak any other languages...seems to be a common question in every country we visit. After much convincing, JJ and I managed to escape to our beds around 1:30 in the morning...

DAY 29: Oh Jungen!!

Even when we have an opportunity to sleep in, per usual, neither of us do. Even though we're in separate bedrooms here, we still managed to wake up at similar times. Thorsten picked us up and drove us to Hamburg by 10ish, telling us about the harbour and all the changes that have taken place since it no longer requires the same amount of manpower as it did post-WW2. There, he dropped us at a museum called the Minatur Wunterland...home to the biggest model train set in the world. Basically, they reconstructed and invented bits of the world, from Hamburg itself to America (Miami, Vegas, and “the wild west”) to Scandinavia, all connected by working model trains, planes, and auto-mobiles. The had a Luftansa plane taking off and landing, working ships on water in the Scandinavian part, and trains climbing a 6 meter Matterhorn recreation. We had to fight groups of very old tourists, and were there for about 3 hours, just watching it all, especially intrigued when the lights would shift the whole place to a night setting, which was just as cool as seeing it in the light.

A chocolate factory was also a part of the experience! See the video.



After this, we wandered down the main road out of Harbour City and into Hamburg proper, stopping to get a Brautwurst and a (exceedingly) delicious pastry on the way. We then made it to the city hall and then wandered up into the shopping area, where we looked at the stores but had no need to buy anything. By that time, Hendrik had finished classes and met us to have lunch (in a cafe on the edge of the smaller of the two lakes—gorgeous), run some needed errands, and then return home, where we proceeded to have “farmer's breakfast”--scalloped (ish) potatoes, bacon, onions, and many spices inside a giant omelet bit of egg, along with Caesar salad and pickles and ham. It was amazing, as we have come to expect.

Hendrik's two friends, Sebastian (Basti) and Jani (pronounced Yani; it's taken 2 days to figure out how to spell it correctly), came while we were finishing and waited for us to get ready before heading out about 7ish. The rest of the evening was exceedingly fun with just the four of us, and then Sandra, Hendrik's sister, who met us later, around 10 at the bar/club/restaurant where we ended up.

Highlights (and lowlights) include:

Jani unable to get into the club place—Sausalitos—the first time, and me talking my way in and getting Katie in too by explaining that we both were born in 1989 and did not speak German (sidenote: I was terribly excited to be able to say that I was over 21, because it doesn't really apply to places in Europe—except this exclusive little club—and isn't important until I get back in the States).

Watching the Germans wait around for the crosswalk sign to turn green, even though there weren't any cars in the entire vicinity. “We're German: we obey the rules.”

Basti explaining that his English would get better with the more beer he had, so, when forgetting a word, he would pause and reach for his bottle, take a sip, and then remember the word and continue the conversation. An hour later, he decided that it was having a reverse effect.

Going back to Sausalitos, Jani as my “American” boyfriend—because I had already been stamped in—and STILL not getting him through. So, Hendrik, pretending to be American, Katie and I all worked on the nicer of the three bouncers and FINALLY got Jani inside.

Riding the entire way home in the taxi with my face out the window was quite memorable too. Not to mention freezing. (I don't know if we've explained this in full detail yet, but it is freezing here. To the degree of frost and we can see our breath at night).

Basically, it was good company, fun conversation, and an all around good night for the most part. It was weird to realize that we got home at about 12:30—which by all accounts is not a very late night at all.

The control room

to give you a sense of the size...

the truth about roadworks!

A two story set!

Miami/Vegas at night

WWII Memorial

Sausage stand--where we tried a bratwurst!

Rathaus--Townhall

DAY 28: A few days later, a few pounds heavier...and on to the land of Haribo!

As any other day where we have had long travels, today was fairly uneventful, save our scramble to find the correct bus at the Venice bus station. Probably the least organised of any bus station we've been through, the Venice bus station was a near disaster, even though we had arrived unusually early (for the two of us, that is). After about 30 minutes of wandering through the many rows of buses and circling the rim of the station, we decided to ask the Route 5A bus driver where the Route 5 bus was—just in time might I add. Apparently the 5A was the bus to take us to the airport (contrary to what we had been told), and he was about to leave! On we got, and our flight was pretty standard. We have concluded with much certainty that European airlines are much better than American airlines when it comes to customer treatment and on board refreshments.

Upon arrival, Hendrik met us outside of customs and we headed to his house on the other side of Hamburg, located about 15 minutes outside the city in an area of sprawling flower fields and greenhouses. He informed us of our itinerary for the next few days, which happened to be filled with a lot of going out and parties, as Hendrik's birthday was on Tuesday. Aside from wondering how much (or little) sleep we will be getting, we are oober (or should I say uber?) excited about the fussball (football. soccer. that thing.) game on Saturday! Later that evening, Hendrik's parents (Iris and Thorsten) served an incredible meal of salad, steaks, short ribs. lamb, grilled cheese (not the sandwich—actual goat/sheep cheese, grilled), asparagus, and potatoes along with a variety of sauces, including a homemade German tomato based sweet and spicy sauce for the steaks which was AMAZINGGGG. Following dinner, we went for a walk to go find the neighborhood kangaroos, no joke. Pictures will be added on Sunday night/Monday (the internet here doesn't like our computer). There's not much else to say, but a few of the memorable quotes for the day included:

The appropriate solution to DUO crashes--'go to the fridge and get a beer'

The German take on the British--'there is a reason they are on an island'

The assessment of our planned activities for the weekend--'What time is your flight on Sunday?' 'Four or six or something in the late afternoon.' 'Ok, you will still be hangovered.'

As for the last part, I am hoping that is not the case. We'll keep you updated...

an aerial view of the Alps

scenery near Hendrik's house

KANGAROOS!

DAY 27: Venezia!!

We made a run for it from the Plus Florence “hostel” in the morning, making it to our train with time to spare—a definite new routine for us, which is odd because we're pretty punctual people, except on this trip, clearly. The ride was gorgeous, to quote Katie “I haven't felt this at home in months.” The reason for this is that northern Italy LOOKS like home, for both of us. I kept thinking I could have been driving down the Central Valley in California during spring, with the sprawling farmlands and just agricultural tinge to the place. Katie agreed that it seemed almost like being back in the States too; the houses themselves didn't even seem out of place.

The ride was quickly over though and we had arrived in Venice! Our hotel was a 3-4 minute walk (according to its directions) away, though it took us a wee bit longer considering it was part of an apartment complex and only had a little placard over the button for the fourth floor versus any large sign declaring its presence. Once up, we worked out costs and such and were informed that we couldn't technically check in until 2—two hours from then. So, off we went with the not so helpful map that the guy gave us and proceeded to explore Venice in the very warm noontime sun. Per usual, we ditched the tourist route and made up our own way, also abandoning the use of the map due to its lack of street names and its photocopied nature making it a bit hard to read anyways. So we wandered around the western half, the “fist” as we came to call it when I was trying to describe the islands to Katie. We managed to run into what we think was actually a school, which we then quickly circumnavigated, only to find our way blocked by the architecture institute with tons of young people with their snazzy portfolios bustling in and out of the main doorway. Getting around this, we found ourselves at the very edge of the island and followed it around the whole way, getting fantastic views across the main canal. Venice is truly everything you would expect it to be, with the cutesy little bridges and gondola men with their striped shirts and (silly) hats. We both liked it very much, especially after our boredom in Firenze (a much prettier sounding name than Florence. In my opinion). It was very warm, but a very nice walk and we made it back to the hotel to check in around 4, if that gives any sense of how much we enjoyed wandering. What was supposed to be a two hour period to kill time had turned into a four hour meander.

Back at the hotel, we settled in and decided to go all out for dinner. We had already planned a gondola ride—it's Venice, we had to—and opted to wear sundresses and boots. Yes, as Katie noted, we may have lost all right to make fun of other tourists with this foray into pretentiousness. But we figured that Venice was the only place where we could possibly pull it off. We also searched for large floppy hats to wear and take silly pictures of the bridges with, but our true selves stayed strong and we really couldn't be bothered to spend money on them. And with our luck, we'd get lice or something from just trying one on for a picture. So we went tripping out the door...and into a slightly overcast world. Who knew the clouds had moved in during the ninety minutes we had spend indoors. But never fear, we had our useful cardigans with us and the boots provided ample warmth. No freezing in the city of canals for us!

This time we followed the main tourist route, looking for smaller bridges off to the side. We found a small jetty out into the main canal down a small alley—only feet from the main tourist route—and passed through a very sketchy stretch to reach the water we could see. We noticed a sketchy man follow us, so quickly took our pictures and fled back past him, who was being super sketch and filthy and destroyed any innocent image we had about the Venetian population and also ruined Katie's theory about no criminals on islands because there is nowhere for them to hide. I was disgusted and our excitement was slightly hindered. But, we managed to get through the rest of the tourist route and made it to the San Marco, which was impressive, save the scaffolding that took up part of the picture. After snapping pictures, we went off to dinner, which wasn't that spectacular sadly, but it was the cheapest dinner yet--€7 lasagna for me—and filled us up. After, we went in search for our gondola ride, WHICH WE COULDN'T FIND...and proceeded to get lost in the ghetto side of Venice. We have realized that we've managed to find the not so nice parts of every place we have gone to—skills that only two American girls travelling alone could fully possess. This may stem from our dislike of tourists and the areas suggested for them, and the way we abandon all suggested routes. But, as I told Katie, there are reasons that we stay within a certain radius of the tourist areas, and Venice was case in point. After venturing a bit too far and traversing the very dark alleys of deep Venice, I abandoned the idea and beelined it straight back to the main route, when it proceeded to begin to rain! And lightning, which always makes me extra excited. However, this meant that all of the gondolas were kicked off the canals and we had missed our opportunity. Sadness ensued, only to be remedied with a dulces from a sweet store, only one each though, and even they didn't seem to taste as good. All of our excitement had evaporated and we went back to the room, being about 9 at night.

The gondolas that we failed to lasso.

Venetian glass work desk