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Island Flavor

Our cruise ship stopped in Funchal Island, owned by Portugal, which is a small island filled with wealth people, everything has to be imported, and nothing but bananas is produced there. The ship stops at this particular island because it has extensive upper-scale shopping and long tours around the island’s natural beauty. For the not-so-wealth (aka: us) the island offers surprisingly little. You can stroll up and down the streets window shopping at stores you’ll never be able to afford, or you can waltz into the magnificent churches to gawk at the gold-plated everything.

We chose to head to the local fish and flower market, where we watched elderly men gut and skin fish before chopping them into bits for waiting customers. Eels, shark and various other strange under-water critters materialized from under tables to be dissected

like bizarre outer-space science experiments. We watched until bile began to rise from the smell and sight of gutted mystery critters, and then moved on to the flower market, which had a much better smell. Some of the tropical flowers were more beautiful and colorful than anything I imagined existed on this planet.

Our stay on the island was brief, but it is a place we highly recommend if you have: A) money; B) time, and; C) a love of shopping.

We stopped in Malaga, Spain, for a day to check out the town after hearing from other travelers that it was a “not-to-be-missed” destination. While this may be true for the more wealthy of travelers, it is not a hot-spot, so to speak, for backpackers. We have had several people comment that we absolutely need to give Malaga a second chance, so I hope we can make it back during our holidays to Spain 2014. With prices in Euros, and the Euro-dollar conversion not in the our favor, we found Malaga to be an exorbitantly expensive town full of cafés, corny souvenir shops and an excess of establishments that catered directly to those disembarking of luxury yachts and cruise ships. On the main drag, several men and women painted their bodies the color of silver or bronze and stood still in various positions, pretending to be monuments. It was interesting to see so many talented people, several musicians, dancers and people in costume. We watched the chaos on main street for a while before heading towards the Picasso museum and exhibit, which we found swamped with tour groups and costing $10 a person for entrance, so we continued to walk around town, simply enjoying the unparalleled architecture of the coastal area.

Castle

We happened upon old town by accident and in the heart of the back alleys, churches and pubs we found Malaga Citadel and castle, which we paid a few Euro to enter. The castle rests atop a hill overlooking the harbor, and offered astonishing views of the town’s center as well. It was built by the invading and conquering Muslims, whose architecture varies from that of the rest of the town, making it a striking piece of architecture. The interior of the castle was recently renovated and looked as if the entire thing has been built only last year. With pools of fresh water cascading down into tiny gutters that ran the length of the walkways, it was as if we were walking inside the Prince of Persia video game, which was set in a Persian castle.

In the harbor we could see a galley ship made of wood and hammered metal and ventured down after our climb through the citadel to have a closer look. It was indeed a very old wooden ship, complete with sails, lockable window hatches and tones of rope. It could have been right out of a pirate movie.

The town was pleasant enough, but expensive and ridiculously clean and organized. After having traveled through Central Asia and the Caucus, the cleanliness and costs of the city were shocking!

If your are looking for a cheap hotel in Malaga, I advise you to check on EasyToBook.com

Since I was a little girl I always dreamed of going to Africa. When we arrived I could not stop repeating in my head, “I can’t believe I’m in Africa!” I was so excited I literally ran through customs and in my rush didn’t even get my passport stamped! No one seemed to care, a small band of three men in red suits played drums and had a hawk sitting on a stick which people were paying to hold or pet. Further down several men in traditional garb were offering camel rides while past that two men blowing into exotic animal skins were making strange and peaceful music. Another man and his companion ran around passing out flowers on the other side of customs while yet more stood around offering cab rides or taxi tours of the city.

We arrived in Tunisia at 7am and quickly walked into town. There was not a lot to see in Tunis itself, but Carthage and the Old Town were several kilometers outside Tunis and transportation costs were extremely outrageous. The taxi drivers by the border were a bit on the untrustworthy side, and they charged in Euro (with a small print 20 Euro per hour sign taped discreetly to the back window). We decided not to take a cab (and buses were not available) to any of the big tourist sites, and opted instead to just enjoy the capital for what it was.

Tunis rests on the Mediterranean, not far from Italy and thus in a prime spot for warm, clean air. The weather was hot and dry by 9am as we strolled through the city’s colorful streets snapping pictures and waving at friendly locals. The number of cats in the city was beyond startling, and rivaled Bulgaria, which also had a preponderance of felines. We walked along the coast watching the early morning fishermen bring in their catch. Many were fishing with nets only, and their return for the morning looked meek. We passed several homes with BMWs parked in the front while along the shore we spotted several women brushing their teeth in the tide.
We walked deeper into town and, although I was feeling a bit ill with a mild case of the flu, decided to just park ourselves on a bench for a while and watch the street activity. A white paneled truck pulled up in front of our spot and began unloading. From our angle it was a ghastly and horrifying sight! The truck had roughly 12 dead cows hanging from hooks drilled into the ceiling, the floor was literally a pool of blood. There were more flies than I have seen in any one place in my life, and when the doors to the truck opened they flew out as if choreographed. The driver got out and grabbed a saw from under his seat, and when he pulled on a leg to begin sawing I felt my stomach do a few cartwheels. This could have been because of the flu, or because I was watching a leg be sawed in half. The passenger nudged a cow’s head (complete with fur, horns and eyeballs and all!) further into the pool of blood and helped the man hold the led as he sawed. While I was watching all this I didn’t notice that a small group of men unloading frozen French-fries out of another truck had stopped to laugh at my horrified expression. When I finally noticed them they were having a hilarious time laughing at me, which was all in good fun.

The smells in Tunis were enough to add to the flu symptoms and the cart wheeling from the massacre in the truck, so after not long at all I decided to call it a day and head back to the room. By 11am it was nearing 90 degrees, and although Mike was insisting it was hot out, I felt extremely cold, which was also a bad sign for my flu being on the rise instead of the fall. Nevertheless, we enjoyed a nice long walk back to the room while Mike hummed various oldies and I snapped pictures of the wonderful blue and white buildings dotting the coast.

We arrived in Bari, on Italy’s southern coast, early in the morning and decided to just walk around the city and absorb as much as possible on foot. It was Sunday, so the town seemed deserted with the exception of the churches. We walked around the old cobblestone alleys snapping pictures of people drying their clothes on lines stretched between the buildings, and waving at friendly people in cafes.

I think of Bari, my first image is of an Italian kingpin gangster in a pinstriped suit complete with a red carnation and a classy black hat. Wherever we turned that Sunday we saw Italian men in this outfit eyeing us skeptically. Every church we went into had a row in the back of the church were several men in these outfits sat whispering to each other while several rows of overdressed women sat before them praying or gazing around the church’s beautiful interior. I couldn’t help but imagine they were all in an international mafia, but perhaps they all just have the same tailor and an affinity for Godfather like clothing.

The churches in Bari are unbelievably beautiful. With ceilings that stretch into the sky, held up by marble pillars and cherubs, beautiful chandeliers, bright paintings and thousands of candles, they are much more awe inspiring than anything I have ever seen.

Bari Castle, on the coast, was a delightful but small structure. The interior was partially under construction so we did not pay to go inside, but enjoyed the exterior. A man with an accordion walked up and down the street playing Italian songs and singing along as people walked in and out of the castle. The structure has withstood a great deal, and although the moat is empty except for a few industrious cats and some litter, looks like it was built yesterday.

We did not have long to spend in Bari, but were delighted with the town, the churches, and the mysteriously suited gentlemen hovering in the churches.

Not at all impressed with Euro-rail as it was the most expensive train, without private cabins, and the lights remained on all night, the fog slowly lifted in the early morning to reveal our slow roll towards the Venetian Islands. As we stepped off the train, a welcome humid breeze met us on the platform, which was in large contrast to the weather we had experienced in the Balkans. Weighed down with our packs, we semi-aimlessly wandered up and over the bridges of Venice and down narrow alleys through which our bags barely fit. When we arrived at the first hotel option we had picked out, we were a little surprised to discover that it was fully booked for the next week.

After receiving a recommendation from the owner, we retraced our exact route back to the train station and headed East. We stopped and asked for a room at every single hotel to find they were either full or wanted 150 Euros ($225) per night. Luckily, we found a place for 60 Euro ($90) – which is by no means, what I consider a bargain and settled in. After unpacking and getting ready to shower for the first time in a few days, I pulled the money I had exchanged at the train station to discover that, unbeknownst to me, we had been charged a 20% service charge for changing $150 to Euros. We should have ended up with 100 Euro, but I only had about 75 in my hand. Furious that Italy would be the first country out of the 19 we had visited to charge a service fee for changing money and losing over 30 USD changing money, I marched all the way back to the train station and demanded that the transaction be voided.
After some arguing she agreed but warned that it would be that way everywhere in Venice – she was right. After all of this, we were free of difficulties for the remainder of our time in Venice. Although Lauren had already been to Venice several years earlier, I had not and found that it lived up to its reputation. It was enjoyable to walk around the streets of the Venetian islands and get lost. In fact, I would wager that it is practically impossible not to get lost in Venice. Even with a map, we got turned around several times. I saw a funny T-shirt that depicted two signs pointing in opposite directions to San Marco Square. It was quite the experience to see all of the old architecture, St. Mark’s Basillica and square – which was mostly under water when we were there, and the gondola owners sing to their customers as they rowed down the hundreds of small waterways going through the city. We sat in cafes, drank coffee and tea, as well as enjoyed a late night Venetian meal – all the things you are supposed to do when in Venice.

We highly recommend going to Venice, but be warned to change your money to Euro before you arrive in Italy. The emergence of the Euro has made the city nearly unaffordable to non-Europeans and we saw very few Americans while we were there. Moreover, we could only really afford to stay there 2 days – which was enough to do and see the main attractions.

We arrived in Ljubljana, Slovenia’s capital, three hours after departing Zagreb, the capital of Croatia. The train was a lovely design with six seats to a cabin with a sliding glass door. We had an extremely friendly Croatian lady in our cabin who was visiting Ljubljana to lay flowers at her family grave plot. The train ride went quickly and the customs officials were extremely efficient and friendly, and we arrived without incident.

Once in Ljubljana, however, things took a nasty turn. The information center at the train station gave us a map and a “good luck!” wave as we walked out the door. It felt a bit odd at the moment but we set off with our bags in the direction indicated on the map towards our hostel. After a grueling walk (our bags now way around 50lbs each) we arrived in the embassy district to discover the map was wrong, and we were now in the outskirts of town without local currency to take a cab or bus, and with no idea where to go. I sat on the ground and took off my bag. A cat jumped out of the bushes next to me and sat on my lap, cheering me up, while Mike consulted the map from the info center and compared it with the already miniscule and incomplete map in the Lonely Planet book. There was nothing to do but attempt to follow main roads until we found signs for old town, and then ask around from there.

The walk was made more humorous by the sheer ridiculousness of it. Mike had his large backpack on his back, which has a red shell on it for waterproofing. On his front he had a smaller backpack that also had a plastic red shell, he looked like a man smashed between two giant ladybugs. I had my pack, and my camera bag and our books in my arms, so that between the two of us we had not one free hand. Perhaps because of our pathetic appearance, we were approached by two travelers who suggested we go to their hostel. Seeing as we had no other option whatsoever, we followed their apt directions and arrived in time to grab two bunk-beds in the 6 man dorm. The dorm had a kitchenette, so we dropped our stuff and went across the river to the shop to grab some fresh veggies to cook with our seemingly endless supply of ramen. Other tenants came and went as we ate, warmed up, and enjoyed the hostel’s atmosphere.

The next morning we walked around Ljubljana in the rain. For us it is hard to imagine any country in Eastern Europe without rain now. We walked up the hill overlooking the city to the Ljubljana Castle, parts of which date from the 15th century. We expected an ancient, Dracula-like castle shrouded in mist and mystery, but were shocked to find a very modern structure that has obviously been erected over the older buildings. In one of the towers there was a modern art exhibit, which was so confusing it left us a bit rattled. There was a chair in the corner which you could sit on while a screen before you showed a spiraling hole, as if you were always falling but never reaching the bottom. Across the tower was a TV showing a play of an old man positioning models to paint them, but never quite getting it right. In the center of the tower was a chandelier which had been lowered all the way to the floor so you were looking down on it. We didn’t stay long in the tower, obviously, but once we mounted the steps in the adjacent building we found another art exhibit full of neon nude women petting various animals. We followed signs to a National Geographic exhibit to find a basement room filled with pictures of animals in yellow frames, rounding the corner we found a circular room filled with lights shaped like worms that glowed just brightly enough to make it extremely creepy. We left the castle after that.

We saw several of the city’s highlight sites, including the dragon bridge and the Franciscan Church, all of which were enjoyable. Our train left at 3:20am. We would arrive in Venice, Italy, at 7am. No matter how we try to resist night transportation, the logic of it always outweighs the discomfort it comes with and we jump right aboard!

Lauren really wanted to go ahead with our plan of 6 capitals in 6 days. Therefore, after our few enjoyable days in Sarajevo, we booked a night-train to leave that same evening. The train station was located right next to the Holiday Inn where journalists from around the world were holed up during the war. The buildings around the train station had not been renovated as well as those in the city center and Old Town. There were bullet holes and shell bursts visible all around.

Night-trains, in our experience, have been really nice cabins with bungalows and you get caught up on a lot of sleep while you save money on accommodation traveling to your next destination. These night-trains easily have been our favorite way to travel. This was a completely different experience. As we walked up to the platform, another train pulled up on the neighboring “paron”. As it came to a stop, a mad dash was made for our train. Lauren and I exchanged a quick look and then dashed toward our train. We have discovered that if the locals do it, there is a pretty good reason for it. What we soon realized was that there were no assigned bunks or seats on the train at all. People were running around opening curtains, cabin doors, and switching lights on and off in search for their preferred cabin.

We found an empty cabin that had no bunks and threw our packs on the chair. Everyone was searching for a semi-empty cabin. We were confused about the situation: Was this it? Would we change trains in the middle of the night? Are there no beds? This was, by far, the most expensive ticket we had purchased yet and it was Euro-rail, which has been said to be the best. The night continued as we laid down on the chairs and tried to sleep. Although no other passengers decided to join us in our cabin, there were several other issues that made this train ride the worst train ride of our entire trip – even worse than the corrupted police train ride from Kazakhstan to Uzbekistan.

We were lucky enough to have heat in our cabin. However, the knob was broken and we were pouring sweat. There was no way to turn it down so we were forced to open a window. Each time we passed through a tunnel, the window would slam shut and then pull all the way open. Moreover, over the course of only 6 hours, we were awakened more than 8 times to have our tickets and passports checked. This was mostly because we exited Bosnia & Herzegovina, entered and exited the Serbian controlled area (SR) in the North of Bosnia & Herzegovina, and then entered Croatia. 45 USD lighter each and 6 sleepless hours later, we arrived in Zagreb, Croatia. Then we found out there was no way to get out of the city! There was only one train for Slovenia, which left in the next 2 hours. We walked with our packs down to the bus station and got the usual tourist runaround just to find out that they didn’t have a single bus that went to Ljubljana, a neighboring capital, only a few hours away. Although the city square and architecture looked beautiful, we only had enough money to each breakfast in Zagreb – after purchasing another overpriced Euro-rail ticket to Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia.

Our bus ride was somewhat of a highlight as far as nigh transportation goes. We were on the top floor of a double-decker bus, in the very front seats. This gave us an amazing, panoramic view of Serbia as we departed. We were exhausted from sleeping on the train the night before, and walking around the entire day. Once on the bus we stretched out and fell promptly asleep.

I don’t know what time it was when I heard a terrifying sound and awoke with such a start I slipped right out of my bus seat and onto the floor! I looked around but everyone else was sleeping soundly. Just as I climbed back into my seat I heard it again. It sounded like glass shattering, and when I looked up I realized that our double-decker was skidding down a mountain road completely covered in snow and ice! The sound I heard was the sound of ice-covered evergreen branches smacking into the windshield directly above my head!

I sat awake with my face inches from the glass willing the bus not to slide into the ravine on our right, or into the mountain on our left. Apparently intense concentration on a goal like that works, because I lived to tell the harrowing tale. I did not realize that there would be snow in Bosnia & Hercegovina, and the mere sight of it, as beautiful as it was, was a bit of a shock.

We got off the bus at 5:30am and discovered that it had deposited its human cargo at a station 10k from town. At 5:30 not a lot is open, so we could not change our currency. We walked around in the snow and slush and eventually found a place that had an ATM, where we got enough out to last a day. We walked around another half hour before we found the bus stop, and waited another half hour for the bus. By now my shoes, which I bought in China and have been falling apart ever since, were soaked through and my toes were as numb as if they didn’t exist. We sat shivering on the bus as it filled with commuters on their way to work.

We jumped off the bus in Old Town Sarajevo, which showed little signs of earlier conflicts. We had expected a city that was brand new, having been entirely rebuilt since the war, but what we found was a delightful old town with beautiful churches, cobblestone lanes filled with shops and cafes, and a throng of pleasant people bustling about their business. We checked into a hostel for 5 Euro a night and took showers. With two full nights sleeping on buses and trains, and walking in the rain and snow, we were quite a pathetic site to behold! The shower, even on its coldest setting, burned my freezing feet until they adjusted to normal temperatures again. I huddled into several blankets in my bunk until I felt I had defrosted, and then put on nearly every item of clothing in my backpack.

Our first order of business in Sarajevo was to find me a new pair of shoes, preferably something water resistant this time! We walked around Old Town, which was full of designer clothing and brand-named goodies, but nothing in our price range. At the river, however, we found a second-hand store where a friendly local lady helped me try on several pairs of winter shoes. I eventually settled on a pair and we went back to the hostel so I could change into dry shoes. Just in case they were penetrated with snow or slush, I put plastic bags on over my socks to keep my poor feet dry.

Sarajevo was my favorite city since leaving Shanghai. It was beautiful, the locals were friendly and helpful, and it had all the efficiencies of the western world. The river that bisects the city gives it an old fashioned feel while the modernity of the shops makes you remember you are in the 21st century.

The history of the city is still alive. The bridge corner where the Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated is well preserved, and a museum to the moment has been erected on the corner showing a film recreation of the exact moment Gavrilo Princip stepped out of the crowd and shot the Archduke and his wife.

We left Sarajevo after two days of restful enjoyment and ongoing history lessons, and wished we could have stayed longer if time and money had permitted.

We took the night train from Sofia, Bulgaria, to the Serbian capital, Belgrade. We arrived before the city had fully awakened at 6am and had to wait for the luggage storage room to open at the train station before we could stash our bags, change our Bulgarian currency into Serbian cash, and have a quaint, train station breakfast. It was raining when we arrived and, in Mike’s words, “this is exactly what I thought Eastern Europe would look like, rain and all!”

We set off towards Old Town with a general plan of just walking around until we spotted something of interest. The rain came down heavier and heavier until the town was shrouded in a grey haze. In old town we set our sights on the Kalemegdan Citadel, which has withstood some 115 battles over the past 2300 years. As a direct result, the city itself has been razed to the ground over 40 times. Today the interior of the citadel no longer houses terrified people, but a lovely park complete with modern art and extensive seating. It looks out over the junction of the Danube and Sava rivers, which explains why it was such a contested area in antiquity. We stumbled upon the citadel’s military museum and decided to venture inside.
The military museum was a bit confusing since nothing was in English, but it did beautifully outline the entire history of former Yugoslavia in metal recreations of armor, wooden ships and uniforms. After walking through the maze of artifacts for over an hour, we came across the “modern era” section which included bits of an American stealth fighter shot down in 1999, complete with the captured pilot’s uniform and tactical gear, as well as a dangerous amount of weaponry. Outside the museum there was a row of brightly painted tanks, exploded ordinance, and cannons. Some of the military equipment was apparently very rare, and extremely overused, giving the citadel a sad and somber feeling.

We walked back into Old Town to find the national museum, but it was under construction so we wandered around the downtown alleys looking at the elegant shops and busy cafes. Belgrade’s bohemian street, once known for its relaxing and low-key atmosphere, is now a busy cobblestone lane stocked full of tourist trap T-shirts, overpriced pubs and quaint but expensive eateries. We slipped across the cobblestones in the downpour and walked around Old Town for several hours before heading to the train station.

There was no train Sarajevo, so we found a bus that would leave a bit later in the night. We bought bus tickets for the night bus, something we swore we would stop doing since it was exhausting. Nevertheless, traveling by night means at least we are not spending money on accommodation for the day! We ate dinner in town and walked around in the rain snapping pictures of bombed-out buildings that had been left as monuments to former wars, and gazing at the beautiful architecture of the city. As the sky turned dark we returned to the bus station and were amazed to discover we would be on a double-decker bus to Sarajevo, and our seats were on the top, in the very front row!