Paris to Vienna with Me Ma

There are some moments I want to talk about. Moments of reflection. Those moments of reflection that you experience, after not having taken time to reflect for a long time. During which long time you’ve done so much more than you can recall, even in the most lucid moment of reflection. So much more, that when that instant of reflection finally breaks through the thick barrier of constant and unbroken experience and accomplishment, it shatters that pristine unity into a thousand tiny fragments, some of which fall between the cracks of active consciousness and reflective thought, never to be retrieved again.

This is how I feel after the last several weeks of my life.  After a fantastic blur of trains, cars, couches, and hotel rooms, I have finally settled down for a second to breathe and realized just how much I’ve done even since I last wrote. This entry will be the feeble attempt to piece together those last couple of weeks in some semblance of coherent order for you to understand. Here goes the impossible....

So. I've been traveling with me ma across Europe over the past two weeks. Our first stop was Paris, where I met her. We decided to take this vacation very relaxed...not have a full schedule of things to do or see every day, but rather to have a couple ideas in mind, and seeing how the day progressed. The main goal of each day was to eat and eat well. Among the multitude of comestibles we rapaciously consumed, the items we devoured the most were wine, cheese, and yes, pastries. Lots of pastries. From several patisseries a day. More than any being should consume and still have a properly functioning heart. From croissants to macarons, pain au chocolat and tartelettes, they were delicious every time. I’ve never been to place with such a highly developed pastry culture, and my oh my was it tasty! But they culinary adventures didn’t end at the patisseries...one day we even lunched in the Champ du Mars just before the Eiffel Tower on a grand feast of cheese, baguette, and red wine. Also, we visited a couple of great bistros, at which I had escargot, black pudding over roasted apples, and other delectables.

Mmmmm apricot tart!!! 

Of all our gastronomic escapades, one stands out above the rest. This is the first time something like this has ever happened to me, something that doesn’t happen just any old day. It happened when went to an Italian restaurant—Augusto, in the 3^rd arr.—for lunch with my couchsurfing host around the corner from his apartment, a little two-man operation tucked away on a small street. Throughout the meal, the chef/owner came to speak with us a few times, as he is friends with my host and likes speaking with his customers. During the course of the chat, it was mentioned that I want to open a cafe and so we got onto the topic of running a restaurant and the like. Anyway, by the end of the conversation, after having expressing interest in wanting to work in my cafe for a little bit once I get it operational, he ended up doing offering me something beyond my wildest dreams: the chance to work under him for two weeks, to learn how to manage a restaurant by myself!

And so it shall be: after emailing him a few times to agree upon a date, we decided that I’ll come back on May 20 and work there until June 3. Although he’s unfortunately not able to pay me, his teachings will more than compensate for whatever money he could give me. This is the perfect opportunity to learn exactly the skills I need to for opening my own, small restaurant, from how to manage inventory to which food suppliers to look for.  And I’ll doubtless pick up some fantastic recipes along the way! I’ll have to dedicate an entire blog post to these two weeks—so look for it in a couple of months!

Me and me ma before that big tower thingy

Our stay in Paris culminated the next day with another lovely occurrence, albeit planned rather than a surprise like the last. On our last evening there, we met up with two couchsurfing friends, Justin and Flo, whom I hosted in Pittsburgh the autumn before last. They are a couple who’ve been living and studying in Paris for the last few years, and I had intended to visit them since arriving in Europe in September. They took us to a small bistro with—allegedly—the best steak tartare in town. While I had nothing to compare it against, it certainly was delicious. But never mind the food. Seeing those two again was lovely. So far, I’ve seen most couchsurfers whom I’ve hosted or whom have hosted me at least one more time, usually in a different corner of the world. It’s so lovely to make such lasting connections within the couchsurfing community, even though circumstances usually don’t presage our seeing each other again after the initial meeting. I fully intend on hanging out with them some more when I go back!

Me and my couchsurfing friends David (second from left) and Justin (third from left) with one of David's friends. We just so happened to run into David while heading to dinner. 

After Paris, my mother and I took a train to Cologne. Due to negligence to double-check our schedule, we ended up missing our train because I thought we were taking a later one than we actually were. Which unfortunately led to us having to buy last-minute tickets, which were by no means cheap (sorry Mom!). Anyway, along the way we had to sit in between carriages on the fold-down seats near the lavatory since the Thalys was over-booked (as always, apparently). But it ended up not being too bad, especially since randomly I had a chat with another Fulbrighter, who just so happened to also come from Pittsburgh, who’s a teaching assistant near Hanover. What are the chances!

In Cologne, while my mother swam in the hotel pool, I took the chance to enjoy a two-hour run along the good ol’ Rhein, my old pal of yore. For dinner that eve, we met up with Mark, my friend from Duquesne who moved to Cologne to marry the love of his life, Katharina, whom he met in Pittsburgh when she was an exchange student there. My mom had her first taste of Kölsch, Cologne’s famous brew, as well as a proper Cologne Brauhaus experience at Päffgen, a non-touristy favorite hang of the locals. Two days later, on Easter Sunday, we took to the Dom for the biggest Easter mass I’ve ever been to in my life (I mean, it’s only in the fourth largest cathedral in the world...). Though I was there three years ago for the very same service, my mother hadn’t seen it yet, and was quite delighted to have gone. And while I’m not into all the whole religion thing, I must admit I was quite impressed with not only the service, but also the setting. Gotta give ‘em some respect.

That afternoon, we boarded another train (the right one this time) headed for Munich. The whole ride we were looking forward to enjoying our first home-cooked meal of the whole trip, but were unpleasantly surprised when I went for my run the next morning. Apparently, the day after Easter is also considered a holiday in Germany, and thus all the stores were closed, including, most oddly, most of the restaurants. Since I had been in Berlin the month before our trip, I had absolutely no food in my apartment, and so we were forced to go out yet again. We met Michael, one of my best mates here, for dinner at a Greek restaurant in Schwabing. Otherwise our stay in Munich was quite peaceful, walking around the city center and enjoying the hoards of buskers that were out that day. The next day (Tuesday) we shipped off for Vienna on yet another train.

Serious buskers in Munich

Vienna was definitely our favorite city. The ‘City of Music’ indeed—every night, there’s quite lit’rally two operas, three musicals, a couple of plays, a handful of symphonies, and every other kind of performance imaginable being put on. Of course, we took full advantage of such offerings, seeing three concerts (two classical piano, pieces by Bach and Chopin, and latin flamenco-jazz by Diego el Cigala). Otherwise we relaxed, supping on (of course) much schnitzel, strudel, and Sacher Torte. Though I must say the Sacher Torte was a bit of a disappointment, the coffee was certainly not. We also found a lovely restaurant that offers dishes centered on apples and potatoes, two main crops of Austria, near our hotel: Jonathan und Sieglinde, Riemergasse 16, 1010 Wien. They had most delicious creations (including, thankfully, lots of veggie dishes), and the most extensive selection of apple wines, juices, and ciders I’ve ever seen. It’s rare to see such creativity, albeit simple, in restaurants these days. Above all ones that offer more than just a couple vegetarian dishes.

Sacher Torte and a coffee-hot chocolate drink at Cafe Mozart 

We also visited the Museum Albertina, one of the most well-laid out and structured collections of art I’ve been to. Not only did they show their artwork chronologically, but they also gave extensive biographies of the artists whose work in prominent in their collection, as well as a good deal of context behind their paintings. For once, instead of aimlessly wandering through a confused maze of colors, I learned about the significance of painters’ contributions to the art world, and what they did to become famous. The two rotating exhibits were on Impressionism and Gustav Klimt’s drawings.

Well after four days in Vienna, I saw my mother off to the airport, from where she flew to Paris to catch a connecting flight to Pittsburgh the next day. Her flight was at 6:20 in the morn, so I returned to the hotel and slept till check-out, moving myself and my bag to yet another couchsurfing friend’s place, whom I had hosted in Munich over New Year’s a few months ago. Kathi was quite busy, needing to study for a large test and I was pretty exhausted from my extensive jaunting across Europe, so we just pretty much hung out for the weekend, watching a movie and cooking together when not reading or studying. I made her a lemon meringue pie, which we ate after enjoying some mushroom risotto and red cabbage salad. After a day and a half’s rest at Kathi’s place, I caught one last train home to the Münch, to actually live in my apartment again after nearly two months of not being there for more than three consecutive days.

Hitchhiking Diaries, Part 3: Berlin to Paris

Well, I suppose it's the time again to write a blog post. And what a time indeed: so much has happened in this past week! So much so that I'm afraid that I have only one story to tell--but hang on--it's quite a doozy, this one! The basic story is that I hitchhiked from Berlin to Paris to meet my mother, who has come to visit me for a two-week adventure in France, Germany, and Austria. But the interesting bits are in the fuller description of what happened that day!

As my hitchhiking prowess and experience has been increasing since I began in February, I've been also hitching increasingly farther distances. This past trip to Paris was by a long shot my farthest: just over 1,000km, compared to my second longest, Munich to Cologne (600km). Add to that the fact that I was to meet my mother at the Charles de Gaulle Airport outside of Paris two days after I began my journey, and things start to get interesting. For if I for some reason unable to meet my mother there....well, who knows what would have happened. But I may not be typing this right now...

Anyway, with such a long trip I had a lot of firsts. First hitch from a trucker, first hitch at night, first time getting stranded miles from a viable hitching spot, having then to walk for a couple hours before finding one. But enough lead-in. I'll just tell you what happened!

The journey began last Friday morning, bright and early at 8am, when I left William's apartment in Berlin to take the public transit to the hitching spot, the rest stop Michendorf well south of town. It takes a while to get there, since Berlin is a massive city by area, so it wasn't until 9:45 or so till I was there and looking for a hitch. That morning passed pretty uneventfully, cloudy and chilly, without many cars stopping to refill their tank or take a break from the Autobahn. I was feeling quite anxious about whether I'd make it the whole way to Paris, and whether I'd have to sleep randomly somewhere outside (not that I wasn't prepared both physically and mentally--I had my sleeping bag and was fully expecting the day to end that way), and so wasn't at all encouraged by the sparsity of drivers. Because of this, I was shier than usual, ruling out certain cars before I could know for certain that they wouldn't take me. You see, the type of people who usual pick up hitchers are men driving alone, so when I see a family or women, I tend not to ask out of common sense. But this day I was being overly cautious. After seeing one car pull up around 11:00am which appeared to be a couple with a teenage son, I immediately ruled them out. But then when the 'father' and 'son' got out,  I decided to ask the 'son' just for fuck's sake. To my surprise, he seemed obliging, but wanted to defer the final decision to the 'father,' who, upon being asked once he joined our conversation, simply laughed. When he saw me standing there with my guitar and hiker's bag, he knew I was going to ask, and was waiting until I did! What was more, he was heading to Limburg, a small city between Frankfurt and Cologne---a good 500km away, about halfway to Paris in one go! So we shifted the luggage in his car, piled in, and headed for Limburg.

Not only was it an incredible feeling to get a ride from people I thought surely wouldn't be able to take me, but they were also an interesting bunch. The 'father' and 'son', who actually were old enough to fit their respective roles, turned out to be just friends, while the 'mother' was a thirty-something Vietnamese guy who didn't speak German (in my defense, he was lying down when the car pulled up, and I couldn't see his face!). They were all making a pilgrimage of sorts to see the 'Holy Mother'/'Lebendiger Gott '(living god), some self-proclaimed Indian prophet who had ended her world travels in Limburg, feeling that the energy in Germany was just perfect for the kind of spiritualism or whatever she was looking for. They deferred most of my questions about her and what they were doing to a book about her that they handed me, that just confused me even more. So I just shrugged my shoulders, pretended to understand, and had a lovely conversation with them about other random topics. Since I had only slept four hours the night before in my usual last-minute packing ritual, I soon nodded off with the other passengers, getting some much-needed zzzzs along the five-hour ride.

The Limbuger Dom, from a bridge over the Lahn

After discussing with the driver about where would be best to drop me off, I opted for the city of   Limburg itself  instead of the previous rest stop, which was 60km before the city. I figured that because Limburg was small, and that I had stopped at a cool rest stop in Limburg before on a previous hitch, it would be better to walk the little bit to the stop and ride 60 more kilometers than stopping short at a hitching spot. Boy, was I never so wrong! It turns out that the rest stop I was thinking of either doesn't exist, or isn't by the city of Limburg at all. After scouting out where the A3 highway was, I headed in that direction, walking up some pretty serious hills until getting to a point where two highways intersected. I had come to a pretty serous obstacle--the rest stop I needed to be at was on the other side of both highways, diagonally across the intersection, and there weren't any sidewalks or smaller roads going over or under the highways, which meant no easy way to get there. As it turned out, I had to walk about 5km all told, getting lost and having to reorient myself several times. I called William to see what the quickest path would be, getting help from a dude who accurately guessed that I needed some who approached me as I was on the phone. Along the way after getting directions from him, I had to keep asking. It didn't help that half the locals I asked either didn't know where the rest stop was or didn't believe it existed, while the other half affirmed that it was there. After spending a solid two hours walking, I finally arrived at the rest stop, around 4:30pm. I've never been so grateful to see a gas station along a highway.

Over the A3. On the distance on the left
(past another highway), is where I needed to go

Feeling full of positive energy after getting through the treacherous maze I had just blindly ambled through, I wore a smile and began asking. This go round it only took half the time to find a ride (30 minutes), receiving one from a Belgian businessman who spoke nearly perfect English. He was going to the Belgian-Dutch border, but only as far as Aachen along the same way I needed to go. At this point, being 5pm, I was considering getting let out at Cologne and spending the night with one of the many friends I have there, finishing the 450km or so in the morning. I was pretty indecisive when Walter (my driver) had asked me where I wanted to get out, but then a wave of optimism and determination swept over me, and I told him I wanted to see how far I could hitch that day, and so went the last rest stop before Aachen, right near the Belgian border. Besides my curiosity for how far I could keep going and my will not to quit early, I had plans to stay with a rad couchsurfing host that night in Paris, coupled with the fact that I wanted to spend as much time in Paris as possible, so I pushed onward. Walter was a legit dude, holding one of the most interesting and lively conversations I've had so far while hitchhiking.

From this point onward, my optimism was through the roof, which was appropriately reflected with the more positive responses I was getting from drivers. At Aachen, it only took around 10 minutes to get a ride, and even from someone who didn't speak either English or German. He was a Hungarian trucker (who's Hungarian name I forget...started with an 's'...), who gave me my first ride in a semi! And he did speak a little German, but just not enough to hold a continuous conversation. We were able to communicate through the universal language of hand gestures, facial expressions, and random noises, and had a rad time together. He was a really nice dude, who usually picks us hitchhikers (even though his boss tells him not to). At first I thought I was only going to Liege, not even 100km from Aachen, but then he told me he was going all the way to the Belgian-French border on the highway going straight to Paris! He would be going to Paris, but not until the next day after he took his required night's sleep. Driving in a truck was cool, but different. The cab is huge, so you have more space, but the trucks go muuuuuch slower than cars, and have to refill their gas tanks every two hours or so, which I experienced. But hey, a ride's a ride, and off into the night we drove!

Just over the French border at the first rest stop where I was dropped off, well dark by this point (11:00pm), I was completely awake and ready to keep pushing forth. After waiting just three minutes for someone to arrive, I got a hitch from the very first person I asked, a Belgian trucker delivering frozen chickens to....Paris! Tom was a friendly, stand-up guy who had a wealth of stories to share with me. Along the ride through the French night, he told me about the hooker he had given a ride from Italy to Belgium over three days (but refused to have sex with her), who had neither money nor any clothes besides the ones on her back. She had been abandoned there by her boyfriend, and was at a loss at what to do until Tom stopped for her and took her to where she wanted to go. Though the road to Paris was only another 300km or so, the ride ended up taking much longer than expected, since Tom had to take his required 30-minute break along with having to make a delivery before dropping me off. He was only getting 30km or so of the city itself, and the delivery ended up taking longer than anticipated, but it gave me a good opportunity to sleep somewhere warm for a while. It was particularly interesting chatting with him about delivering food (they were organic chickens, and I asked him about the differences in regulations for them, etc.), and experiencing (not really, but sort of) a delivery. He forced me to stay in the cab, saying that me leaving would be a breach of security, in case I was a journalist or someone taking pictures of the process. Which gave me a huge surge of optimism for the food industry...

Anyway, he dropped me off those 30km or so away from Paris around 3:30am. Unfortunately, he had to switch highways just before dropping me off, so I was on one leading around Paris, not into it. But it didn't phase me at all--I couldn't believe I had gotten that far, and was close enough to sleep till the sun came up and walk if I had to into the city. But I was hungry, having long before finished my packed lunch and snack. I was trying to see just how far I could go without spending money, and so didn't buy food along the way (except for a couple pretzels in Limburg....). But at this point I had to cave. At the same time, things started quickly going downhill. The dude inside the shop (which was open), didn't speak any English, and couldn't understand what I wanted to buy (I had to order through a window at that hour). He also was in disbelief that I was hitchhiking, which didn't help the situation.  But Lady Luck has a way of showing her face just when you least expect her. As I was endlessly trying to explain to the shop keeper that I wanted some bread, some guy who had just filled his tank approached us, and was equally shocked I was hitchhiking. So shocked, in fact, that he simply couldn't let it be. I quote: "You're hitchhiking? WHAT?!? This cannot be. I take you to train." Not only that, but the shop keeper gave me a pastry--for free! It seems Lady Luck manifested herself in the form of extreme compassion and aid!

Dan, the French dude who gave me a lift, lived right down the highway, about 10km away, near one of the last train stations on the train going into Paris. We arrived at 4:00am, and he explained as best he could when the train arrived and where I needed to go in the station to get to the platform and buy a ticket (he didn't speak English). He still couldn't believe that I was hitchhiking at 4am even when he dropped me off, shook his head once more, and drove away. I was so close.

Alas, the train didn't start running until just past 5, so I bought my ticket, plopped myself on the station, and did the only thing I could have to pass the time and stay awake for an hour: I busted out my geetar and began playing. The time flew faster than expected, and before too long I was joining the locals on their commute into one of the biggest cities in Europe, and one of the cultural capitals of the world. If only they knew what I had done that day (though I'm sure they were confused a bit by my guitar playing).

I arrived to my CS host's just past 6am, who had generously left the key under the mailbox to let myself in. It took a little bit to fall asleep from all the excitement of reaching my 1,000km-away goal (which turned out to be more like 1,200) in less than 24 hours, and having the opportunity to spend a full day in Paris before meeting my mother. But once I was asleep, I slept for a solid four hours, before being awoken by my host, who had prepared breakfast for me. I had a wonderful day exploring the better part of Paris by foot, concluding it by cooking dinner for my host and his partner, who were some of the most generous and interesting people I've ever met through CS. 

So that was that! I learned a lot about myself, other people, and the world in general through this trip. Most importantly, it seems perfectly clear to me now that the universe always works itself out, as long as you give it a chance to. We spend so much time worrying, hoping, and getting angry and frustrated when things don't turn out how we want them to that we forget how easy life is if we just let go and allow it to happen. I'm not saying that there's such a thing as 'fate' or that there's some sort of god or something running the show, but simply that there never is a need for us silly humans to worry. This was by far the best hitching experience I've had yet, and not nearly my last!

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As an addendum: of course, before I left, I lied to my mother and told her I had booked a train to Paris to assuage her already immense anxiety of properly leaving the country, but then told her of my hitching adventure once I met up with her and the possibility of me not meeting her was nonexistent. She thought it was funny :).