The Danger of Fast, Budget Travel

Going to Italy was something I’d never really considered. I guess it seemed like a place I’d have to visit someday, so I assumed it would happen of its own accord and without too much help. That’s pretty much how it happened. However, due to time constraints and the distance of travel required, it would be a tight fit.

The first night in Florence was enough to get some pizza and water, after about four train rides through Alsace, beautiful Switzerland, and then through the pitch black Italian scenery. We needed our rest for the first day out on the town. Luckily, our exceedingly helpful hostel owner had circled everything we could conceivably see in Florence in one day. There were circles everywhere, and a few dots for the restaurants based on a price range we had outlined in a roundabout fashion.

Obviously, with one day, we saw the outsides of a whole lot of things, but I wish I’d been able to go inside a few of the museums. Also, I wish I’d remember what I’d seen, other than the Duomo. Ahh, the little regrets that will pull a person back to a city. That little taste of Firenze has succeeded in forcing me to desire another trip to Italy. At least a month, I feel, with enough time to see and enjoy, and to eat as much pasta as possible.

Just in Time

Agenda for October 22- October 31, 2011:

Sunday: Leave for Verdun from the castle and stay 1 night in Luxembourg
Monday: explore Luxembourg, visit important organizations, and travel to Belgium where we will stay 2 nights in brussels because we are visiting other important organizations
Wednesday- after going to SHAPE in Mons, leave for Scotland and stay for 2 nights in Edinburgh
Friday-Leave for England and stay 3 nights in London
Monday-Fly home and go through Swizterland

So Wednesday night came and it was time for Liz and I to say our goodbyes and head out to the UK. Secretly, I was scared because it was just us but I knew I had to be fearfree because we were too small of a group for either of us to be down. We arrived to Scotland around 10 pm and began to find out hostel. We saw our bus and hopped on. The bus driver was really helpful. He told us where to get off and made us feel welcomed. Also, in Brussels we met a guy who just so happened to be flying to Scotland on the same flight as us so we all sat on the bus together. The bus dropped us off and we said our goodbyes to that stranger we met in Brussels. We originally couldn't find our hostel but after asking a few questions to waiter in a restaurant he assured us that we were right down the street and we were! Long story really short, I didn't enjoy our hostel. It wasn't dirty but it was in a weird location and strange very strange people LIVED there and even more strange people worked there. It wasn't as bad as the Paris hostel but it would definitely not be my first choice hostel.

While laying in bed that night, I realized that I was not alone. Liz felt the same way. We both, just wanted to go somewhere to the Chateau, another hostel, another hotel, London, the states, it didn't matter. Anywhere but there. I felt comfortable because for the first time we understood each other. I think in that very instant I made another close friend. It actually became a big strange because for the rest of the trip, I would complete her sentences and she would know my appetite.(This is a huge accomplishment) This enhanced the quality of our trip. The rest of our trip was good, expensive but totally worth it. We went to all the tourist locations and continued to stick together. I never really expected this but I appreciate it now. I have a new friend just in time when the honeymoon stages of studying abroad ends.

Identity, Value, and Goals

The weekend of October 15 and 16 was our second weekend of travelling on our own. 8 of us decided to head south to Nice, France. After arriving at different times throughout the weekend, we all decided to meet up on Saturday morning for a group adventure. We wanted to go to Monaco. It was a beautiful sight to see. Nice was beautiful as well. In the streets, of Nice strangers did not come up to you selling you items and you didnt have to worry about holding your bags close to your body.Of course, we saw homeless people and disabled individuals but it was not as numerous and risky as Paris.

As previously mentioned in "the city of [What] love?" blog, Paris had everything dirty and nice a big city in the states would advertise. With these few things being said about Nice and Monaco, I enjoyed it much better than paris. The water was sky blue and the further you looked out the prettier the water became. The rocks that led to the water set the mood. I think all of us were expecting sand but it was good to be at a beach with rocks instead of sand. It was a perfect location for couples and families. I couldn't actually find a boardwalk on the beach but the shops, casinoes, and restaurants reminded me that we were still in France and I was not back in the states. I suppose topless people was another reminder but I would rather not discuss that view.

Overall, I really enjoyed Nice but after a few conversations with a few friends and thinking in the shower, I have come to the conclusion that standards and expectations change everytime we travel. For example back in America, going to the club means dressing to impress and secretly try to reveal yourself. While abroad, we dress up for class and clubs but a different kind of dress up. It somewhat looks like the same thing we wear to class is the same thing we wear to the club, professional and classy. It is strange that in America you are almost frowned upon for not having skin shown or not wearing the new Victoria Secret sweatpants and uggs to class.  I actually remember my first time going out my freshman year at WVU and in life and people laughed at me because I didn't have on sexy dress or a short skirt. I didn't understand the point of being uncomfortable or having to worry that I would drop something and my thighs would show. I guess no one really told me about the clubbing life.These different standards came into place in Nice and Paris and I suspect it will always occur. To me, where I sleep at night is just as important and if not more than the place of interest. I would like to see the sights as well but my healthy and safety are more important. At home, I feel the same way when it comes to sleeping and eating. I hope my identity doesn't change too much since I am not at home.

East Side Gallery

         During Fall Break, I was lucky enough to explore places that I had never been before. One of these places happened to be Berlin, Germany. While I got to experience many fun things while I was in Berlin, the most thought-inducing experience was viewing the East Side Gallery. The East Side Gallery is the longest part of the Berlin Wall that is still standing. On the East Side of the wall, artists have been commissioned to paint pictures on different parts of the wall. The pictures varied in their subject matter. Some were dark and shocking, remembering the days of communism, while others sang messages of peace and freedom. Many of the pictures provoked discussion from the small group I was with about the specific meaning behind some of the pictures.

                Despite numerous signs next to the gallery telling people not to deface the pictures with graffiti, graffiti was everywhere on the gallery. While much of this graffiti was dumb, there were a couple bits of graffiti that provoked discussion, just like all of the paintings did. Despite being someone’s illicit scribbles on a piece of artwork, I found it interesting that some things that were not officially artwork could also provoke discussion.

           Perhaps because putting artwork on something once was (and arguably still is) such a powerful symbol to people makes not only the artwork, but the graffiti easier to impact and touch people. While putting provocative artwork in a museum is sure to set off a reaction, putting artwork in a much more “real” setting makes the message much more accessible to all people. The messages the various artists are trying to convey are open for viewing to anyone who wants to walk by the wall. Not only that, but someone who just knows a small bit about the history of the Berlin Wall can deduce the powerful messages artists were trying to communicate. 

                For me, I enjoy looking at art in museums. But often, my thoughts don’t go beyond, “Wow, that’s really pretty,” or, “Oooh, that’s cool looking.” While these pieces I’m viewing often have a message to convey, often, extensive background information is needed to “understand” what the artist is going for. While I have had some art history classes, and even have a close relative as an art history professor, a good portion of my reactions to art in museums are not particularly intense. 

            Maybe my love of the Wall artwork shows me to be simplistic when it comes to talking about art. The reason that I enjoyed it so much is that it was not only visually stunning, but had a message that I clearly (and easily) felt. After all, I’m the type of person who rarely likes reading poetry because I find it difficult to interpret. I like things to be straightforward.

          Yet, when someone is trying to use art to tell you about resisting tyranny and the importance of freedom, you cannot have a sly message that might go over some heads. If you don’t want history to repeat itself, you need to make what you’re saying powerful and obvious. And because of this, I view the East Side Gallery to be one of the most important collections of art I have ever gotten a chance to view.

Back to the Homeland

I just returned from Budapest, Hungary and this was an amazing trip. I had always wanted to go to Hungary because I am 1/8 Hungarian and I have always heard stories about my great Hungarian grandfather. After going on a 14 hour bus ride, which actually wasn't that bad, Zak, Julie and I arrived in Budapest. If you couldn't tell by his last name Zak also has Hungarian roots and actually has distant family who lives in Budapest and his cousin picked us up from the bus station. This already says a lot about Hungarian people and how friendly they are. Zak had never really met this cousin aside from an old picture of his cousin holding him as a small child and this man was willing to pick him and his two friends up and show us the greatest of hospitality even though he was busy with work and his family, which included a beautiful two month old daughter.

This cousin, Bela, had to work but he left us with his son Norbert to show us around. We all went to a very good restaurant that was very different for Europe. It was an all you can eat buffet with free refills!! This was what I had been waiting for! After our meal experience we toured around and saw a bit of this beautiful city.

The Next morning Bela picked us up and we met Norbert and his girlfriend at Parliament. This building is the most beautiful building I have seen in Europe so far. It is the second biggest Parliament in Europe and wow is it wonderful. At first we thought that we could not be able to enter because all of the tickets had been sold for the day but Norbert called his step-dad who was a somewhat important guard at the Parliament and he let us in. Inside was just as beautiful as the outside. Giant staircases, ornate rugs, stain glass windows and the best, the crown of the Hungarian King lay in the middle under a glass box still being guarded by two guards who stand perfectly still and only move to circle the crown every 30 minutes.

After our Parliament adventure we went to The Balasko's home and had one of the most delicious meals I have ever had. Before we ate we had to try Palinka which is what I like to call Hungarian moonshine. It was a hard liquor with plum, honey, vanilla and I am sure other things mixed in. After we drank a few drinks of Palinka and had to eat a piece of the Palinka soaked plum we had dinner. 1st course was a chicken noodle like soup. The 2nd course was chicken, pork, a fish casserole, potatoes and a cheesy rice. For dessert we had a cherry, orange, pistachio, pomegranate, delicious layer cake with creme. We finished with a healthy 'taste' of wine.

 The next morning we ate at the buffet place again and bought a few souvenirs then prepaired for our 14 hour bus ride back to Strasbourg. This trip was wonderful and I loved Hungary!

 It was hard not to notice that the people of Hungary are more open and friendly with you than in France and that their food had more use of spices. These are the main culture differences I noticed. I liked this and I hope to go back soon.
-Tyler Underwood

Ghost Train to the Eastern Star

Hi Everybody. I have been enjoying your chronicles lately recounting recent and distant travels (even stay-cations are 'distant' to inward lands). Meanwhile I am reading with enthusiasm the new travel book by Paul Theroux, "Ghost Train to the Eastern Star," which chronicles the author's return after 33 years to the same famous journey he took and the classic travel book he wrote, "The Great Railway Bazaar," which a few of you have been reading. Here are a few lines from the opening chapter, which I thought you might find of interest...

"You think of travelers as bold, but our guilty secret is that travel is one of the laziest ways on earth of passing the time. Travel is not merely the business of being bone-idle, but also an elaborate bumming evasion, allowing us to call attention to ourselves with our conspicuous absence while we intrude upon other people's privacy - being actively offensive as fugitive freeloaders. The traveler is the greediest kind of romantic voyeur, and in some well-hidden part of the traveler's personality is an unpickable knot of vanity, presumption and mythomania bordering on the pathological. This is why a traveler's worst nightmare is not the secret police or the witch doctors or malaria, but rather the prospects of meeting another traveler."

"Often on a trip, I seem to be alive in a hallucinatory vision of difference, the highly coloured unreality of foreignness, where I am vividly aware (as in most dreams) that I don't belong; yet I am floating, an idle anonymous visitor among busy people, an utter stranger. When you're strange, as the song goes, no one remembers your name."

"The best of travel seems to exist outside of time, as though the years of travel are not deducted from your life. Travel also holds the magical possibility of reinvention: that you might find a place you love, to begin a new life and never go home. In a distant place no one knows you - nearly always a plus. And you can pretend, in travel, to be different from the person you are, unattached, enigmatic, younger, richer or poorer, anyone you choose to be, the rebirth that many travelers experience if they go far enough."

Budapest

This past weekend, I went to Budapest by bus. That's right, by bus. Thanks to the fact that one of the people I was traveling with had distant relatives in Budapest, we were shown around the city by locals, and we enjoyed the best of the local cuisine.

In particular, I found dinner with the Balasko's to be the most insightful. It's one thing to dine at a traditional restaurant, but entirely different to be in the home of total Hungarians. The three of us from WVU ate with this complex family, but could still see what was probably absolute tradition. There was the man of the house and his son from his first marriage (who had brought his girlfriend of six years), the man's new wife and two-month-old daughter, and the man's mother-in-law. Later on, a friend from Italy made a guest appearance, but didn't join us at the table.

Upon arrival, we were told to make ourselves at home, but not in so many words: "Do not be like that-smile!" We were told he mother-in-law spoke no English, and I never learned her name. She stayed in the kitchen, behind a closed door, and cooked, cleaned, arranged dishes, and wore an adorable headscarf. According to the son, she did this for a hobby, and to help the wife with her new baby. When we tried to compliment her on her cooking, even the phrase "Very good!" with a thumbs-up had to be translated for her. And she did deserve the compliment.

The meal was fantastic. It started off with two little glasses of Polinka (a traditional Hungarian drink made from plums) that had been bought off a local farmer, and flavored by the wife with plums, vanilla, honey, and cinnamon. The first course after this was a chicken noodle soup. I was fortunate enough to end up with the gizzard, obviously, but it was actually good. Then, we were given Slovenian beer, and the table was laden with three meat courses, rice, and potatoes. For dessert, there was a dish not unlike trifle, but with cherries from their yard, and pomegranate seeds on top, finished off with Hungarian sweet merlot. So yes, a delicious dinner that left us full for two days.

The chance to go to Hungary and spend an evening in someone's home is completely invaluable. On top of that, the places we were able to see, and the things we were able to learn about the city were a good balance between the things a tourist should see, and the opportunity to see them as a local would. I think this trip to Budapest was a greatly eye-opening experience as we had a man familiar with the culture before and after the Iron Curtain's effects to tell us about how the city has changed, and how much better it is.

One thing about Hungarians, apparently, is that they aren't afraid to be completely open once you know them. This helped us see the man's experience more clearly, and to understand the culture a little better than we would, had we spent these two nights in Budapest on our own. It's important when taking short trips to foreign places to immerse oneself in the culture as much as possible to make the most of the trip, and having the Balasko's there with us showed us just enough of Hungary to make us want to come back again and again. I can't wait to see it again, and learn more, and see more. Who knows, maybe this little jaunt has helped me become a better traveler. We'll see.

ich bin ein berliner

I’ve just spent the last week travelling outside of France for educational purposes and for a general “vacation” from France for holidays from classes. A few other students and I chose to travel to Bruges and Berlin for our free days. I wasn’t really sure what to expect from either of these cities, but in hindsight, I’m really glad that I went to both.

What struck me most about the two cities was how different they were from each other in atmosphere. Bruges was adorable, immediately inviting, lively, and had a very medieval, old-timey feeling to it. Berlin on the other hand, was seemingly desolate for being the second largest city in Europe and had very little that would have made it immediately recognizable as a European city itself. However, Berlin quickly grew on me. The history from the Cold War was visually everywhere. Most of the buildings looked as if they had been built in the last 50 or so years and, of course, there’s still the wall. Besides the wall, I could not find any distinguishable differences between former East/West Berlin. Although, I wasn’t really sure of what I should have been looking for. The development of both sides seemed to be on par with each other. Anyways, it really fascinated me to be so close to such recent history. This is the farthest east that I’ve been in Europe and I certainly felt it to be one of the most different (from my point of view) places I’ve been.

Funny story- there was an “Occupy Berlin” protest the Saturday we were there (in solidarity with Occupy Wall St. I assume). There is probably a slightly more appropriate name for a protest in Berlin than one that involves occupation.

-Maria

Staycation

As everyone were dicussing their future plans for travel; I sat back and thought about returning to Strasbourg. At first I felt a little lame laying around the chateau, but who would've thought it turned out to be a really good. Grant it it was different, but it was good. In fact I would goes as far to say it was an excellent stay-cation. What does this mean? It's exactly as it sounds, the combo of a staying and being on vacation.
I have done things in this week that I haven't done in years. I got to partake in an afternoon of rollerblading, and bicycling around Robertsau. It was like a flashback, but I still had it. Also it so good to be able and relax, take in the sites, and just have a good time.
Today was the cherry on top, it has been crazy since we stepped out the door. There were a number of things: singing teens, strong smells,bats, a busted lip, and a hunting in the woods. I may not have ventured in extra countries this week, but I'll take my staycation.

Colors of the Wind

     As I have not read far enough into Twain's book "The Innocent's Abroad" to really come up with a philosophical subject to reflect on in my blog, I'll stick with de Botton until I can really dive into Twain's book to really come up with a nugget.
    There was a part of "The Art of Travel" that I believe has stuck with me more than anything else that the author had to offer up. It was his chapter on beauty, which toured with the character John  Ruskin, to places such as Amsterdam, Barbados and so forth. I have also talked about this particular matter to some of my classmates and asked their opinion on it. In a nutshell this portion of the book has Ruskin complaining about how people, while traveling, do not often take the time to wonder about and explore the beauty that each new place holds.  That travelers are more like passerby's, stopping to catch a glimpse of something in order to say that they've "been there, done that". I have found myself in utter agreement with this section because I know that I, myself, have not really stopped to smell the roses or notice the brilliant shades of pink, red, white plus the wilted bits of color that these flowers show the world. It is in this concept that Ruskin believes that people do not pay attention to what is around them, and that they ought to more often. I know I do not really pay close attention to everything that surrounds me, but I believe that I gain enough visual depictions that I can later recall in my memory when I want to think about my time in Paris, London, or Nice. Even with the oodles and oodles of pictures that are taken at each destination, even that is stated in the book that these still life images do not really capture the essence of the objects being shown. It kind of reminds me of Pocahontas when she's doing her little spiel to John Smith saying that  (and I quote) "But I know every rock and tree and creature, Has a life, has a spirit, has a name...". Yes, I know that this is kind of a lame tangent, but that is what I think that this part of de Botton's book was trying to pin down, that we need to stop at the place we are currently at and really examine the creatures and objects that surround us and really think about what's going on there. The shapes and contours and colors that make something what it is. That we need to pay attention to the "colors of the wind". 

An interesting Day

Today, after finishing a quiz for an online class, there was a knock at my door. She wanted me to escort her to Kehl; she wanted to go grocery shopping. When reached the tram stop for Bus 21, we began to sing Tupac's "California Love". All of a sudden, about 7 french girls ambushed us with lots of ridiculous laughter. Do you sing? They were talking to Sharrell. Can you sing? She yes and the ball start rolling. Can you sing for us please? Please?! Are you English? American? Are you from New York? America is Beautiful!! You're Beautiful!! The American boys are Beautiful!! While all of this was happening to Sharrell two came to me asked me if they were taking the right bus for a certain stop. I took them to the map, tried to help them as much as I could and returned to the madness that was happening to Sharrell. I think at one point Sharrell asked me for help because these girls were out of control! You would thought us, or at least Sharrell to be famous. Can you sing us a song? Please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sharrell asked them to sing and they told her that they couldn't. Apparently, they love Rhianna..( I think its spelled wrong.)  Finally Sharrell asked if they knew Destiny's Child. Yeah!!! " Say my name say my name....hmhmmm..mmm ..llalaal." They didn't know the rest of the words. It was hilarious. When the bus came, we stood in the middle where the floor turns along with the bus. All of a sudden we were hit by this horrible spell!!! And we were stuck in traffic. All in all it was an awesome day. I didn't stay at the Chateau. That was definately a plus.

Brussels, Really?

Growing up and finally visiting Europe, I had heard so much about Brussels.  I really wanted to visit the place to see what it is that is so special about Brussels.  Since I was young, I was curious to visit Brussels and find out why many world organizations chose Brussels to set shop.  Well the time finally came for that long awaited visit to the capital city of Belgium, and to my disappointment, I did not see what is so great about the place.  It is old and too busy, traffic was more or less like we experience in Georgia on a given day.  Cars "flying" this way and that way, people in hurry going some place, trains, full to capacity at all hours, the restaurants stay busy, and sitting arrangements are squeezed together.  So then, what is it about Brussels that is so great?  Finding the Commission offices was a nightmare, the weather was dull and wet, the walkways covered in large uneven cobblestones were simply not walker friendly, so why is it that Brussels is what it is, is precisely my question.

I do not know whether I can attribute my feelings towards Brussels to the hostel we stayed in, which was one of the poorest places I have ever stayed? or to eat all you can bread and cereal breakfast that was served at the hostel? I really do not have answers to these questions.  On our free time, I did not feel motivated to explore Brussels or even the surrounding area where the hostel was located, I cannot express my feelings while in Brussels, all I can say is that I simply hated my experience in Brussels.

Ok, we are students from the U.S., but the security we endured at the U.S. EU Representative Offices was unbelievable.  We had to wait to be escorted inside the building, in groups of fours, and if one decided to go to the bathroom, then the rest had to wait so that the escort could resume, once the briefing was over, we had to be escorted once again until we fetched our personal belongings and out of the building, this whole scenario of security measured was overplayed in my opinion and for that reason, I would not even want to come back to that office for paid or unpaid internship!

All in all I was glad when we left Brussels for SHAPE.  SHAPE was the icing on top of the cake, I enjoyed the briefing, which was lengthy but very informative, we were even served coffee and cookies, something I have noticed is not common in Europe, we took a group photograph and got copies before we left, I did not see anybody from the highly security minded place fuss about our visit, once the officer met us at the gate, gave us our visitors passes, that was all.  We could even take photographs of the buildings outside, so if there is a place I would like to come back and visit in Brussels, it would definitely be SHAPE.

All in all, I was glad when we finally got on the highway heading back to the Chateau.  - Caroline

Mama said there'd be days like this

Over the school break, I was able to make my way to Amsterdam. Made attractive by its museums and coffee shops, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to visit. As I pursue my career goals in the public sector, I have always tried to be a law abiding citizen. In the Red Light district, where my hostel was located, there were ample opportunities to have a legal substance to smoke that would otherwise not be legal in the United States. Never having tried this herbal substance in the states, I figured the best place to try it would be where it is legal. My mother had always warned me of the dangers of any drug I may come in contact with during my high school and college years. Having heard the redundant horror stories parents use as a scare tactic with their children, I obeyed my mother's advise with my own reasons to provide support.
In the Red Light district's best known coffee shop, I was ready to try what was always raved about as the best part of Amsterdam. Taking a legal substance, of age, with a trusted companion, in a known part of town, things started to go wrong. I felt my body reacting in a way I could not explain and ultimately could not control as my dinner ended up on the sidewalk only minutes after my first experience. Being raised in a superstitious family where karmic retribution is almost immediate, my only thought, as I was bent over on the sidewalk spilling the contents of my dinner, was that this is what happens when I disobey my mother. This exact urban legend of a girl abroad, alone without her mother, did something she know her mother would forbid and ended up, insert the most horrible situation you mother could think of here, and this situation I found Myself in was my mother's words becoming a reality. Only a Roman Catholic would believe they were being punished by God for doing something legal. This feeling of remorse and shame, with just a touch of guilt is the essence of how I was raised... and I just realized it.
Whether I became sick with the thought of having the horrifying stories of my mother in the back of my mind or because of actual physical reaction of overdosing on a drug in which it is almost physically impossible to overdose from, I will never know.
My mother may not know what Strasbourg looks like, how crazy the Roman drivers are, or where to catch a bus in Madrid but she did tell me about days like this... she, somehow, was right.

Disciple of the Heinous Path

I want to go back, to relive this experience. I cannot think of the last time a city compelled me to such an extent. Amsterdam: where I should have been living for the past, I don't know, twenty-one years of my life. I will start from the beginning:

I exited the train after a two hour ride from Brussels, another city in which my time was too short. I hadn't slept for about a day, but my adrenaline was pumping so hard that I could have easily stayed up another two, feeling like a had injected three cans of Red Bull directly into my bloodstream. This was the end of my Haaj and Amsterdam my Mecca. Alexandra and I quickly located our hostel, which was conveniently located only about half-kilometer from the Amsterdam Centraal, an architectural marvel as far as train stations are concerned. The city was alight like the 4th of July; A thousand fireworks going off at once, people meandering through tight alleyways and backstreets, which amply supplied them with all that they desired. I can liken this city at night to no other. It was simply incredible.

We put our belongings away in our rooms, and set out to explore the city. Each street was a microcosm in and of itself. One would have to spend an entire day to have a comprehensive understanding of what each street had to offer. We settled into an establishment known as the Green House, a place with a sheik ambiance and very chill atmosphere and staff. After I partook in their award winning specialties, we ventured out again to find something to eat. This was not at all difficult, as we soon came to find out. Amsterdam was loaded with street venders, and cheap restaurants, at which one could indulge and be right on their way again to experience the many sights, sounds, and tastes of Amsterdam.

The next few days were jam packed with more of the same activities, so I won't go into much detail. We visited the Anne Frank house/museum, which was actually worth the one hour wait in line and the 9 euro entrance fee. We also walked for hours around the city, finding that Amsterdam, or at least the oldest section of Amsterdam, was not that large at all.

One aspect that particularly made this trip noteworthy, was the hostel. On hostelbookers.com, Hostel Croydon was rated with a 51% average. Initially, was quite worried that this experience would be overshadowed by the looming cloud that could have been an abominable hostel stay. The sort of hostel that leaves you filthy, tired, and upset that you ever chose such a place to lay your head at night. Fortunately this was not the case. Croydon was located adjacent, or rather, connected to a crepery, with delectable waffles and crepes. We also had the luxury of free wifi in the hostel, and clean dorm-style rooms, with a bathroom and shower in each. You may say to yourself, "This seems pretty normal as far as lodging goes", but get this: It was only about 10 euros a night to stay there. Win.

Amsterdam is, in my opinion, the greatest city in Europe. This was the very first time after an extended trip in Europe that I didn't want to return to the Chateau for a shower and renurishment. I was so upset to have to leave, and I am still longing to set foot on its hallowed ground in the future. In fact, I am going to book a return trip before I leave Europe. I would recommend Amsterdam to anyone, whether or not you are a partier, antisocial, or don't like to travel. You will love it. And if you don't, I want nothing to do with you.

-Tyler Collins