High Five for Highland Games: Inverness

Since my tan from Portugal has all but faded away into oblivion, I thought it time to talk up a greyer part of the world. With some bagpipes heard blowing in the distance and the taste of whiskey on your tongue, let’s journey to Scotland again.

This time round, I headed further north to Inverness with reliable travel buddies Miriam and Lauren. What you need to know about Lauren, a fellow Oxford postgrad, is that she loves Scottish men. I’m not sure if it’s the accents, the kilts, or the fact they usually come built big and burly… but she loves them. So what better than the Highland Games to watch some brawny men throw cabers and lift weights?

We rolled out of Oxford at midnight on a Friday (nope, not a misprint).Our flights through EasyJet cost about £75 roundtrip, so of course we were paying in other ways… early flights out of remote airports. A taxi to Oxford city centre then a short walk landed us at the bus station, where we were informed tickets needed to be pre-purchased for the coach to Luton Airport. Super.

So we hopped on the Oxford Tube, which runs 24-7 to London, then once at Victoria station we wandered around at 3 a.m. trying to find the Luton bus. In the end, we got to the airport in time for a brief breakfast, a long line at security, and not quite enough coffee to keep us going.

By 8:30 a.m. we arrived in Inverness. A bus to the city centre will cost you under 5 quid and once you’re there, transportation costs are pretty much non-existent since this city verges on miniscule. Trusty hostelworld.com led us to the Inverness Tourist Hostel, which wasn’t the best, but certainly wasn’t the worst (though I should mention the incredibly cute and helpful Kiwi behind the front desk). A mixed room of four with shared bathroom runs for about £12.00.

Here’s a tip about Scottish weather: never expect it to be nice; seriously, just plan for the absolute worst and then multiple it by ten. It was the middle of July and the only footwear I brilliantly decided to pack were of the flip-flop variety. Live and learn (but you would have thought I’d done that by now?!). I would guesstimate temperatures were in the low 50’s with a slight drizzle most Scots would consider a grand fine day.

A long nap and several cups of coffee later, we were ready to rock the ‘ness and see the sights. Ten minutes later we were stumped for what to do next. If you had a car at your disposal, chances are there’d be more to see (Loch Ness, for instance). Surely, there must be more to see? As Europe’s fastest growing city, I’m sure there’s more than meets the tourist’s eye. Nevertheless, we had a sufficient wander and then thought it time for food and drinks. I’ve got one word for you when it comes to Inverness nightlife: Hootananny.

Live music, reasonably priced booze, a Thai restaurant and several levels of randomocity will keep you entertained on a Friday or Saturday night. And no trip to a pub is complete without the resident drunks hitting on Americans tourists. There were a few older gents this time, each with a glass of whiskey or a pint of Guinness sloshing around as they made jokes, asked us to dance, and made generally unpleasant conversation. But it’s all part of the "culture" yeah? We even witnessed a genuine dance off, but as in all cases of dance offs, no one was victorious (see video below).

Come Saturday, it was the main event for a about £10 with a student ID. Think of a fun fair, add some kilts and bagpipes, and you’ve got yourself the Highland Games. There’s a beer tent, alongside which are booths with each individual clan. Of course, mine was the best, the Cameron clan… Aonaibh Ri Chéile! (Let Us Unite!). We settled in at the grand stands and watched some caber tossing, cowbell flipping, shot putting, and hammer throwing. There was a men’s team and a women’s team, each exemplifying impressive skills and strength.

A walk along the River Ness will take you by the perched Inverness Castle. There are plenty of traditional Scottish souvenir shops scattered throughout the city. Find yourself a tartan, or shortbread, or just a regular shot glass adorning "Scotland" ... whatever you fancy, you'll be sure to find it in this tourist-friendly city.

We capped the night off at our new local favorite, Hootananny, but didn’t make it a wild night since we had to catch a morning taxi to the airport. Another early flight to another remote airport, but at least this time we managed to get on the right bus back to Oxford.

It almost seemed surreal to have been in the north of Scotland for less than 48 hours, watching the legendary Highland Games. A last-minute weekend getaway turned out to be something really memorable for me, as we saw a piece of history in action.

Paling Around in Portugal: North to South to North

I never imagined that I'd ever visit Portugal, a place seemingly tinged with exotic culture and an air of unknown. I thought if I ever ventured to that part of the world, it’d be a trip to Spain, a more typical tourist destination. But then I met one of my flatmates and Portugal became a reality.

I lived with Catia all year at Cheney Student Village, along with a fantastic group of others from around the world. So once my postgraduate coursework was complete, I figured a trip was necessary to celebrate the finale of my time abroad. She offered a free bed and entertainment in Braga and so, my journey began.

My friend Miriam decided to splurge and join me on the vacation, which was much needed after the stress of moving, job hunting, and finishing up major projects. We found flights from Birmingham to Porto on the dreaded RyanAir for a measly £37 and pre-booked train tickets from Oxford. Only an hour away, Birmingham is a great alternative to London as a departure city. However, be sure to get to the station early in order to avoid getting in a physical brawl with a ticket machine, as Miriam so gracefully did—but we’ll skip over the part where some elderly ladies were befuddled by our abusive tactics. PS: If you order tickets early, you’ll need a confirmation number and/or a credit card number to access your information.

It was a quick jaunt to southern Europe and we arrived in Portugal’s second largest city within two hours. From the airport, Catia and her sister Dina picked us up and we hit the highway American style to get to Braga. This northern city has plenty to see and is a good place to get an initial taste of Portugal. Start out in the center of the city near Idol’s Fountain, where on a breezy day you’ll feel the spray of the water as you sit with a coffee in a nearby café. Drink your espresso Portuguese style by stirring it with a cinnamon stick.

Wander through the wide boulevards and take in the gothic

architecture, especially at the Braga Cathedral. Find the church pictured to the right and then try to find the roosters… the number of minutes if takes you to find them is the number of years you will wait until you’re married. Santa BarbaraPortugal. garden is near and ideal for a photo-op, plus on your way there you’ll pass the narrowest house in northern

Invest in a rental car or hitchhike* your way up the tree laden hills toward the Sanctuary of Bom Jesus do Monte. The magnificent vista before you includes Braga and the beaches of Esposende and Viana do Castelo. The Sacred Way, the impressive baroque granite staircase, is a workout, but considering pilgrims climbed it on their knees, I won’t grumble. The area is full of gardens and grottoes, sculptures and fountains. One could easily spend a day here and be fulfilled. In the area, you’ll also discover the Sameiro Sanctuary, a 19^th century domed church with more spectacular views.

*not really.

It’d almost be a sin to go all the way to sunny Portugal from dreary England without soaking up the rays on a glistening beach, and thus we headed 45 minutes west toward the Atlantic. At the sight of water, Miriam sprinted toward it with glee and we spread out our towels several meters from the shore. I’m usually not one to lounge while on a trip, especially on sand, but this was a welcomed respite (until the sunburn set in, then it was entirely regrettable). We hit the water and swam to our heart’s content; it had been years since I splashed around in the ocean. The area was clean and calm, with the Mediterranean sun blazing on our backs.

Our time in Portugal was not spent entirely up north, we also ventured south by train. An early morning departure to Lisbon landed Miriam and I there in three hours flat. We maneuvered the metro and got from Oriente Station to old town in several stops and one switch. If traveling from the north, ride the train all the way to Santa Apolonia Station to avoid the metro (whoops!).

We had the city center all to ourselves once we arrived—the streets of Lisbon are eerily quiet on Sunday mornings. Following the directions scribbled on my piece of paper led us to a narrow door, leading to one of my favorite hostels yet. We were greeted like royalty at Goodnight Backpacker's, Rua dos Correeiros 113. They gave us coffee and breakfast, stored our luggage, and allowed us to relax in their chic lounge … all before the official check-in time. For €20 a night each, this pick proved to be stellar (94% satisfaction on hostelworld.com) especially considering we were located in Baixa, the city center.

With only a day to explore this historic city, we set out to find some sights. Following the tradition of figuring things out upon arrival, we decided to simply use our internal compasses, which led us to the Castle of São Jorge. Towering above the city, this spot has been privy to human occupation since the 6^th century BC. Once you huff and puff your way up the narrow streets, pay the €3 fee to get into the castle so you can enjoy the absolutely breathtaking views. Take note of the indigenous cork trees once you make it to the top. Our eyes seemed to be playing tricks on us as we looked out and saw what was reminiscent of the Golden Gate Bridge. Later on, our research concluded that the 25 de Abril Bridge was built by the same construction company.

Flip flop wearers beware as you descend, for the detailed cobblestone streets are not kind to the soles of your feet. If you head toward the side with the water, you’ll inevitably pass the Lisbon Cathedral within Alfama, the oldest city district. Once we were back on level ground, we found a bustling African market on Augusta Street… Lisbon seemed to wake up while we were at the castle. We took in a late Italian lunch in an outdoor bistro and then set out toward the northern part of the city.

The Estrela Basilica was certainly impressive, but perhaps not worth the long walk... try taking one of the famous Lisbon trams if you’re feeling adventurous or know a little Portuguese. We sat in a busy park mere steps away from the historical landmark and wrote postcards to home, although here’s a pertinent warning: don’t mail anything from a Portuguese mailbox! It took months for these cards to emerge in the US (I made it back before they did). Spare the authenticity and mail them when you

get home.

On our way back to the city center, we passed the Assembly of the Republic building, large in size and in splendor. But splendor soon turned to seedy as dusk happened to sneak up on us and we got lost. With a newfound spring in our step, we tried to retrace our route to no avail. At that point we discovered the other side of Lisbon, a poorer, unsavory district unmentioned by tour books. We finally figured a way toward the water and followed it back toward Augusta Street; the unplanned quest was a good reminder to carry a proper map.

Walking throughout Baixa that evening, we were bombarded by restaurant owners trying to entice us in for dinner. This was unexpected and unappreciated, so we went to the first place that didn’t try to lure us in. A decent and traditional Portuguese meal was had, along with some vinho verde, a refreshing young wine that is only available in Portugal.

The next morning we hurried out of our bunk beds to catch a 5:30 train and we journeyed back up to Braga to spend our last day with Catia and her family. The next morning we had another early wake up call to get on a bus toward Spain. Although this acted as my first official trip to Spain, it was not an extended one as we were just flying out of Vigo. However, the ride to this small, rural airport was enjoyable with rolling hills of green. Keep in mind the time difference between Portugal and Spain while traveling, we almost had another Dublin experience on our hands if we had been late.

Portugal was altogether unexpected and enjoyable. It exposed me to another unique region of the world and I was thankful to have a resident tour guide along for the ride (many thanks, Catia!). So check one hometown off the list of flatmate tours. What’s next? Maybe a spree to Seychelles to visit Jessica? Or perhaps a jaunt to Jordan, an itinerary in India, or a caravan to Canada? Oh, how I love going to school abroad!

Updates coming soon...

-Portugal (Braga, Lisbon)
-Scotland (Inverness)
-England (Oxford)
-New Mexico (Santa Fe)

A Beautiful Corner of the World: Bavaria

The glory of having a Eurail pass isn’t just the automatic first class upgrade, but the fact you can go off route and explore different cities within the selected country at no extra charge.

From Munich we headed toward Passau for a night, but before we got there we took a detour to Regensburg, a Bavarian city where the Danube and Regen rivers meet. Catch this place on a sunny day and it’s one of the most picturesque cities in existence.

We didn’t have a map or any sense of what to do in this Gothic inspired area of Germany, so we chose a direction and headed in it once we left the train station. Our internal compasses must have been in working order, because we followed a wide stretch of commercial boulevard and came across some gorgeous buildings.

Cross The Stone Bridge over the Danube and behold history at your feet, as this footbridge was built in 1146 and was used during the crusades. Regensburg Cathedral is certainly worth a reconnoiter. This beautiful city has something to see – and take a picture of – at every corner.

From Regensburg we went to Passau, which won’t earn more than a few sentences in my blog. This hilly, university town is a good place to recover when you reach your mid-vacation crisis (running out of laundry). There’s not a huge to-do list, unless you want to do some general shopping or lounging. We regretfully stayed at the overpriced Achat Hotel and drank dunkel bier all night at Maxi Café/Bistro up the street.

Moving on from Passau, we were delighted to reach Nürnberg. This historic city made a definite impression on our trip, marking my favorite stop on our European Explosion Tour.

We stayed at the EuroHotel/Suites, which I highly recommend. A double room runs for 100 euros, but the room was huge and you’re on the castle’s doorstep. The Nürnberg Castle’s distinct sandstone rock makes up three parts and offers impressive views and a grand sense of history.

Just walking through this amazing city is interesting, as it blends old and contemporary architecture because of the damage done during World War II. The Hauptmarkt was buzzing with stands offering food and flowers, along with year-long Christmas décor. Nürnberg simply oozes with historical value, it’s a great place to be a tourist.

As for food, The Bratwurste Hausla was overpriced and overrated, so don’t be lured in by the tempting smell of sausages. Make your way to the Handwerkerhof area and ignore the kitschy tourist feeling in favor of Fränkische Weinstube. This traditional German open air restaurant was one of the best yet and had the kind of schnitzel my German grandmother would make. Near EuroHotel/Suites we had a quiet meal at the Trattoria Germania. It was moderately priced, delicious, and local… not to mention, a respite from German food.

You might be wondering how the typical hunt for coffee went in this new place… let me assure you, we weren’t disappointed. The Starbucks in Nürnberg ranks in my top favorite of all time, since it’s located right along the water and is deceptively huge (Hauptmarkt 1). That makes up for the fact we couldn’t find decent coffee anywhere else.

Our last night in Germany needed to be spent near the Karlsruhe-Baden Baden airport. Funny thing about getting a flight for a penny one way (that includes taxes and fees, my friends) is that you end up in the middle of no where. Before we left, I called several hotels in the surrounding area and put my diminutive German-speaking skills to the test. Apparently it worked, because we secured a reservation at Hotel de Charme.

Now let’s get something straight, traveling with a sibling is awesome… you typically get along, have the same interests, share the same sense of humor. However, you run the risk of people assuming you’re not siblings. This was the case in Iffezheim, where even through the language barrier we understood that our bed and breakfast owner thought we were married. This was further emphasized when he told us in a French accent that the area was very romantic. Needless to say, it was awkward.

Moving right along, we had a blasé meal in town at Bei Leuchtners, had a comfortable (albeit discomfited) stay at Hotel de Charme, and then took a 30 euro cab ride to the Karlsruhe-Baden Baden airport. We passed the village we wanted to stay in, but alas, it was all booked up for a gnome festival (seriously). The lack of hotels near the airport didn’t make the penny flight worth it, so I suggest shelling out a few extra euros to fly to/from a major airport. But hey, if you’re considering buying real estate, may I suggest you pick up some land in this area and build a hotel.

Ich Liebe Deutschland: Munich

After Budapest, I couldn’t wait to hit Bavaria (I may have composed a song to drive this point home, but I’ll spare you the details/lyrics). Mark and I set off for Germany on 10 June by train, though not without a near meltdown as we tried to find the platform in Budapest. Keeping what could be a very long-winded story short, basically there wasn’t an international booth so we had to board without validating tickets. We assumed this would prove problematic on the German side of things, but we took the risk and hopped the 9 a.m. train toward Vienna.

We booked two Eurail Rail and Drive passes before we left the US and they were delivered the day before the Euro tour. If you’re going for a basic pass, check out the Eurail Web site, but if you have any questions or want to do something unique, don’t hesitate to call them (US Number: 1-800-352-7661. International Number: 1-800-352-7661). The customer service rep exuded charm and efficacy, so no need to battle through the Web site for answers.

By the time we reached the Austrian border, the entire aura transformed outside our first class windows. The landscape changed from boring Hungarian plains to a winding journey through some charming wooden areas, where Austrian flags hung with pride.

With a few hours to kill in Vienna, we wish there had been more time allotted to this part of the trip. The shopping street near the Westbahnhof was absolutely hopping with consumers of food and goods alike. Find Café Aroma if you want to meet the nicest Austrians in the world, have a peach cake, and check your e-mail for free on their computer.

By the time we reached Munich a few hours later, we were thrilled to be exploring yet another city. Once we escaped the seedy area around the train station, we instantly fell in love with the broad boulevards lined with trees on the way to our hostel.

The Easy Palace didn’t evoke that warm and fuzzy feeling, but for €18 a night, the EP made for some decent accommodation. It was clean and quiet, with large rooms and a nice staff. The entire town seemed booked, so make sure to reserve early if you’re hitting up Munich in the summertime.

On the way to the hostel we spotted a jubilant restaurant, Café am Beethovenplatz, with live music and a large crowd. Since we were saving so much by staying at a hostel, we decided to splurge and eat at this place, which ended up being one of the best decisions of the entire trip.

Sitting on the exterior patio, the summer breeze hit just right and the grand piano could be heard playing through the windows. Our waitress was fantastic, speaking just enough English to help us with the all-German menu. When she came back with our beers ten minutes later, she apologized profusely for taking so long and gave us two shots of Jaeger on the house. The food was as close to perfection as you could get (I had the turkey, Mark had the pork) and needless to say, it was a welcome occasion after the blasé fare we received in Budapest.

Munich is a really practical city for walking and checking out the sites, of which there are plenty to choose from. We started out with a Starbucks coffee at the train station (best train station in the world, and I’m not just saying that because it produced a decent cup of brew!). Heading east from the train station, we came upon the Marienplatz, or the central square, home to the Glockenspiel (bell-tower). Buy a pretzel or some strawberries to munch and wander through the lively market, the experience is unmatched.

We walked in the rain along Maximilianstrasse, which was pretty uneventful, until you see what’s across the Isar River. You can snap some good shots of the Maximilianeum, the seat of Bavarian Parliament, from afar, but the magnitude of the building can only be felt at the foot of the gargantuan building.

The downtown palace is worthy of a check out. There is rich history and lots of knick-knacks to muse over at The Residenz, a complex built in 1385. Between the architecture, décor, and gardens, this royal oasis is certainly impressive for only €8 each.

After a long walk, lunch and pint were in order, so we stopped into the legendary Haufbrauhaus. Honestly, it’s kind of a rip off for food, but the building and atmosphere can’t be beat, so go for a beer and a photo. A bigger rip off is the Paulaner Munchen, where you can’t even get a good beer. So if you want a truly good German meal with a quality mug of brew, drop into the Augustiner. Any schnitzel will be a dream come true and I recommend the mushroom turkey schnitzel. We befriended a neighboring diner (who I dubbed Herr Asland Mueller) and we had a half German, half English conversation. The overall experience was everything I expected out of Germany.

The Augustiner is near the grounds for Oktoberfest, which are obviously vacant when not covered in beer tents in September, but the Bavaria statue is amazing. The bronze-cast statue of the goddess of Bavaria is over 18 meters high and nearly 100 tonnes… wow! It towers in comparison to pretty much anything and is worth a close up look.

Munich is an enthralling city, rich in history and entertainment. Friendly natives who are accustom to tourists and not annoyed by them is a rarity in Europe, so take advantage of the locals’ pleasant demeanor here. Munich’s motto is “München Mag Dich” ("Munich Likes You"). Well, hey… I can assure you that the feeling’s mutual!

Hungry for Entertainment: Bored in Budapest

I disliked Budapest the moment our EasyJet plane skidded on the slick runway. It wasn’t anything specific, but just a general feeling of discontent. There was something inexplicable about the two cities of old and new that didn’t sit right.

To be honest though, I went to Hungary with zero expectations; reading the few paragraphs dedicated to Budapest in my Lonely Planet didn’t necessarily prepare me for landing. But figuring things out when you get there is half the fun. However, my overly organized self wouldn’t enter a bustling city without a hotel booked, so we researched the best option online, and found a steal of a deal at The Radio Inn.

Arriving at the small airport on the outskirts of town, we changed money to forints ($1 USD = 153 HUF) and then hopped on a bus to the metro station. Through the rain soaked window we took note of what can only be described as communist block buildings as we pulled up to the metro station.

The station itself was filled with smoke and sketchy looking locals, with everything seemingly in a sepia tone. I suggest you clutch your purse until you can escape. We bought tickets from the unhelpful help desk and then maneuvered the metro to an area near Hero’s Square.

The Radio Inn looked great online, a two-bed apartment for $90 in a quiet diplomatic area, but of course, these things are usually too good to be true. It definitely served its purpose and was in a great location, but The RI could have been a lot better. For instance, it could have a shower curtain.

As mentioned, the location was supreme and we landed a spot within fifteen minutes of all the PestAndrassy Street you can find Liszt Square action. The action, however, didn’t consist of much. Off with a row of restaurants. The prices are high, but it’s worth it for consistency and a guaranteed crowd. Stray down any other streets and chances are you’ll be greeted by front window kebab shops and random underground clubs.

Our first real day there turned out better than the first (the sun certainly helped matters). We took in a coffee at Vian Café in Liszt Square and headed toward the Danube. Saint Stephen’s Basilica is amazing and architecturally speaking, all of Budapest proves impressive. We crossed the bridge to get to Buda Castle and the views could take your breath away. Of course, climbing up to the castle will also take your breath away, but it’s feasible without the help of public transportation.

Wandering around the castle area took up a good amount of the day, along with an overpriced meal at Miro Café. Mark had a field day with all the photo-ops while on the hill. We headed back to our hotel for a break before dinner, which was plain yet filling at Moyo Café.

The best night out we had started at Champs Pub where they had plenty of screens to watch the EuroCup matches. After a pint, we went across the street to Den Haag Pizzeria and had the best meal in Budapest: a pizza for 800 HUF. Back at Liszt Square, we went to Karma for dessert and to watch the rest of the game.

Be sure to check out the Baths in City Park if you’re into that sort of thing (meaning public baths; to steal a line from The Daily Show, “….excuse me while I get the taste of band-aids and urine out of my mouth”). Hero’s Square, the art museum, and the park are notable attractions all located in the same area. An almost decent cup of coffee can be had at Gloria Jeans near the square, though expect to shell out about $9 for two. Why am I always on the hunt for a good cup of coffee? Oh yeah, because it's impossible to find in Europe.

The whole time I was in Budapest, I couldn’t wait for the next adventure. Rarely do I give a city a bad review on this blog, in fact most seem to rank in my top favorites, but Budapest deserves a thumbs down. If you’re in the area, check it out, but you only need a day to fully explore the capital of Hungary. The food is blasé – I dare say bad – and the tourist attractions are fairly lackluster. We didn’t find any pleasant locals and unless you’re down with the underground club scene, the nightlife is nonexistent. Sorry Hungary, but even with zero expectations, you failed.

Planes, Trains, and Ferryboats: Getting to Galway

Warning: This blog contain an angry tirade against RyanAir. The ultra cheap airline prides itself on low fares and being on time, but that’s all they have to brag about considering their customer service, treatment of passengers, and general demeanor lack charm or accountability. So be warned, I’m not a RyanAir fan. Read RuinAir for a lengthier account.

Miriam and I booked through RyanAir to head out to Dublin from London Gatwick for £20 return. We were pleasantly surprised to make it to the airport on time after a delay on the motorway. Following a swift check-in and an unobtrusive security screening, we found ourselves alongside the masses waiting for the gate information.

The cheaper airlines love to keep you waiting in the exterior lounge for the gate number to pop up on a miniature screen. Once it does, keep your elbows at the quick and nimble position so you can fight off the hoards of people running to your gate. RyanAir might be the only airline that drives respectable looking businessmen to the great lengths of tripping children in order to secure an aisle seat. But in typical travel fashion, you simply hurry up to wait. We eventually make it to the plane, find a seat, and resist the temptation of buying lottery tickets or overpriced Fanta.

We were greeted by mists of rain as we descended into Dublin, but better yet, we were also greeted by our Irish friend Sarah. We spent the evening at her abode in Swords, a suburb north of Dublin, catching up on all the gossip and events since we last saw each other.

Considering Miriam and I had already “done Dublin” as tourists, we decided to explore another region of this beautiful island. We hopped a bus from the city centre to Heuston Station (€1.30), where we decided to head to Galway. Nothing like last minute decisions in the rain.

Three hours and €44 later we found ourselves in the City of Galway, one of the larger cities in Ireland, though it seems much smaller than that. We were advised by some friends that this was the place for traditional music and a good pint of equally traditional Guinness. Galway was even ranked 14^th best tourist destination in Europe, ahead of Paris, London, and Rome.

A quick search on hostelworld.com led us to The Sleepzone Hostel and we couldn’t have made a better choice. For 14 euros a night, we had an all-female dorm room (six beds) with a surprisingly clean ensuite shower. There was free internet and tea/coffee in the a.m., along with a helpful, friendly staff. It’s no wonder this place was ranked best hostel in Ireland.

Head out to Quay Street (pronounced “key”) to find a row of restaurants and pubs. This tourist area is like the Temple Bar of Galway, yet it’s somewhat cheaper and better quality than the Dublin version. We stopped into Fat Freddy’s Bistro for a bite to eat, dined by candlelight, and managed to rack up a bill under 20 euros.

Once on Quay, you just have to listen to find the right pub to pick. The sounds to look out for come in the form of flutes and bagpipes, cheers and stomping feet. We wandered into the Spanish Arch Hotel and the room was bouncing with energy. The band Alalé was performing and they can be summed up in a word: incredible.

The mix of traditional Irish harmonies with some Spanish fusion made the room erupt in applause for this local band. It was the kind of performance you’d expect to pay for, but the only money I spent was on a pint of Guinness (the dark stuff always makes you feel a little more Irish). This band makes you want to abandon all sense of propriety and jump around the bar with a grin plastered on your face. The fast paced music just screamed with energy, so much in fact, we went back the next night. These four guys know how to play and they made the trip to Galway entirely worth it.

And thank goodness for the Galway experience, because by the time we made it back to the Dublin airport two minutes after RyanAir closed its check in, we were deeply considering if the trip had been worth it. They closed five minutes early and pleading with a snotty woman wearing a RyanAir badge didn’t help us check in. Instead, we were directed to the sales desk where they claimed no flights to England were available that day. The next best thing? A €75 flight to London the next day at noon. We scratched that option and hunted down an internet connection.

Skyscanner.net gave us more options and less attitude than the help desk, though everything under €225 was the following day. With time running out (literally… those internet kiosks are pay by the minute), we booked a flight to Birmingham for 6 a.m. We can blame the Dublin bus system for being unreliable. We can blame RyanAir for closing the check-in desk early. We can blame ourselves for not allotting more time to get there. But in the end, the blame game doesn’t matter when you have to spend 15 hours in the airport.

Needless to say, we survived, though not without a heightened addiction to caffeine. We bought overpriced airport food, read some books, watched TV, slept for an hour on a Starbucks chair, and even had a book and a magazine stolen from the bagel place. But now I can consider myself a true and tested tourist, as all avid travelers need to spend at least one night in an airport.

Living on the Edge: Inis Mór

I was on the edge of the world – peering over jagged cliffs into the churning blue ocean. Looking across the distance I could see the horizon crash into the water. The sun lost its spherical form and just blended with the bright sky. It’d be blinding save for $6 sunglasses.

Inis Mór, the largest of the Aran Islands in the very west of Ireland, conjured thoughts of the sublime. Stepping on the 1,000 BC rock made me lose my sense of time and space. I have never been anywhere more dramatic or thought-provoking than the cliffs of Inis Mór.

The ferry ride from Galway to the Aran Islands (€18) was hilarious to say the least. Sitting on the back of the 150-seat cruiser, the waves jumped up while on the choppy waters, giving Miriam and I an impromptu salt-water shower. Between fits of giggles, we stumbled toward the inner cabin for the remainder of the ride.

Once you disembark, lines of tour buses will be waiting to tempt you. I suggest you take one—because we didn’t and we should have. Instead, we set off on foot, grabbing a sandwich to take along at the one and only grocery store on the island.

On our hunt for a picturesque spot to eat, we were passed by warp speed minibuses, most signaling that they’d pick us up. But we found some flat rocks overlooking the Atlantic, so we picnicked in the Irish wind.

We kept to the trek and hiked a hill or two, until a tour bus had the decency to stop for us. He offered a ride to the fort and cliffs (€5), which were miles away. Our driver—along with most people we encountered on the island—was so nice, I need a new word for nice. Once we were dropped off at the fort, he organized a ride back to the port for us.

The short hike to the top of Dún Aengus is lined with Bronze Age walls, with jagged remnants on the ground below (caution: do not attempt to wear flip flops on this journey!). Through the stone wall opening, the drama unfolds. We were nearly knocked over by the gusts of wind making its presence known. When I saw the view from atop, I couldn’t help but exhale in absolute awe.

After the photos are snapped and the video captured, sit on the cliff and soak in the sun (if you’re so lucky to have it shine). It could take minutes or hours, but take the time to take it all in: the view, the trip, the life around you.

On the way back to the ferry, we couldn’t help but grin. Joe Gill drove us in his minibus and answered questions about the island (population: 800, average house price: €250,000, major industry: tourism). This time around we selected the interior ferry seats, being we had just dried off from the last venture.

The arandirect ferry was pleasant, but let me recommend any other company so you can take a 7:30 p.m. return instead of the 5 p.m. – you’ll need as much of the day as possible on the island if it is only a day trip. There seems to be enough to do if you desire an overnight stay – with plenty of bed and breakfasts or hostels dotted around the island. A 45-minute bus ride took us back to the city centre from the Rossaveal Port (€6) by 7 p.m. Expect a fully loaded coach on that last service back to civilization.

Inis Mór provided me with much needed perspective and a brilliant photo-op. I’ll always remember those crashing waves, the staggering cliffs, and stepping up to the edge of the world and smiling.

Getting to the Root of It All: The Drive with My Dad

If you can hire a car and manage stickshift on the other side of the road, take a few days to tour around England. There’s more to see on this island than London and I was lucky enough to have my dad here in March to show me. Being that I can’t hire a car, manage stickshift, or drive on the other side of the road, it was a good thing he got here.

My first stop on the tour with the pop was Hereford, about two hours from Oxford. His cousin Tony lives there with wife Sandra, and they showed us a wonderful time. Situated on the River Wye, which seems to wind all along the area, Hereford was a lovely stop on the driving adventure.

We headed a few miles out of town to The Green Man for drinks and dinner. Sitting in a place that pre-dates America certainly brings some historical perspective to the table, as this restaurant/inn dates back to 1485. A few Stowford Press Ciders later our food arrived and tasted of pure perfection. The menu was laden with delicious options, but I’ve got to recommend the chicken kiev.

The next morning we woke up to the best English breakfast I’ve ever had, but unless you know Tony and Sandra, don’t expect to get one. We left the house fairly early to head to York, a few hours away in north Yorkshire.

The Marriott on the edge of town near the racecourse was a welcomed sight, as it had been awhile since I could partake in the plush comforts of a nice hotel. Hitting up hostels is all good fun, but traveling with the rents means better quality, and the Marriott spells quality. In other words, I could leave the shower shoes at home.

York is a truly trendy spot in northern England, with hipster restaurants and pubs dotting the streets of this walled city. We took in a pint at a pub along the river and then found one of many Indian restaurants in the city centre. The Akash Tandoori provided a decent meal and good service, and it was one of the more traditional curry houses opposed to some of the modern establishments in the area that lack charm.

No trip to York is complete without a visit to the York Minister, as it's the largest Gothic cathedral in northern Europe. When my brother was there as a kid, he was sure to apologize to a security guard about the fire that destroyed the place in 741.

From York we took to the road and found ourselves in my dad’s old stomping grounds, a village named Wetwang (seriously). Driving along the Yorkshire Wolds and discovering this village of his past made the trip worthwhile. He escaped to this country landscape to spend the summers with his grandmother as a child.

We then stopped over in Hull so I could meet my great aunt. Molly, my paternal grandfather’s sister, is fantastic. We chatted up a storm about past, present, and future family affairs. We then crossed the Humber Bridge to meet up with another one of his cousins, David, at The Whistle and Flute pub. A cider and a good chat later we set off again.

Our last stop on the journey landed us in Lincoln, a place my mom spent several weeks studying Tennyson as a graduate student at the Tennyson Research Centre. As recommended by my Frommer’s Guide to England, we booked into the White Hart Hotel. Full of history, this hotel saw the likes of Churchill, Eisenhower, and Margaret Thatcher. Of course, history doesn’t always translate to comfort. The halls were like mazes and the beds were like boards. For about 160 pounds, the only redeeming feature of this hotel was the view of the cathedral.

On the very appropriately named Steep Hill Street, you’ll find Browns Pie Shop, a cozy, atmospheric restaurant. Think of a pie filling and it’ll be there, but I’m not talking typical dessert pies, these are proper pies you can only find in northern England. I dove into a fisherman’s pie, stuffed with salmon and halibut, in a creamy parsley sauce, and topped with a layer of mashed potatoes. My dad tried out something different and went for the venison and blackcurrent pie, with a crusty top keeping in the piping hot mixture. And if you need to work off the pie, just hike up the hill back to the cathedral… it’s sure to give you a full cardio work out.

We braved the rain soaked motorway and made it back to London the next day. It was a great trip to connect to my roots and see the country where my roots were planted. Even if you don’t have family in the area, looking beyond London can only bring you a smile, as this land is diverse and charming. Start practicing that stickshift and whole other side of the road thing ASAP.

Stay Tuned: Upcoming Blogs

After a blogging respite, I'll be back in travel action soon. Stay tuned for the following updates, to be completed in the next few weeks after I get back from a Euro adventure!

• Hereford, York, Lincoln
• Budapest
• Munich
• Black Forest/Bavaria
  

Cancellation Chaos: AA's Struggle

An early morning phone call beckoned me back to New Mexico last week. A bit of bad news (that could have been a lot worse) forced me to forgo convenience and find the first flight out of London. A quick scan of lastminute.com led me to American Airlines, where I purchased a return flight for under a grand.

Little did I know when I turned the corner at customs in Dallas I’d be greeted by a slew of flight cancellations. That’s right… I got caught in the middle of the worst string of airline delays and cancellations in the past decade. So I did what any other delayed passenger would do: ran up to a service desk and demanded I get on the next flight out of there.

Typical, that I would come all the way from London and couldn’t even get to the other side of the state— as I was shooting for El Paso for the final destination. The line started to bulk up, but luckily I made it to the front of the queue before the hoards of angry travelers could trample me.

Amid a few tears and desperate pleas, I explained my situation. Two ardent customer service reps worked to get me on a flight to El Paso that evening, via Phoenix. American Airlines has been getting a lot of flack these past weeks, as well they should, what with the cancellation of over 1,000 flights and the displacement of 250,000 passengers. But I want to extend a thank you to AA for getting me where I needed to go. I’m sure had I been traveling the next day, I would be raging right now instead of applauding, but as luck will have it, I made it to El Paso.

I would suggest, for future reference, American Airlines should inspect their planes when told to do so. Also, they should inform passengers why their flights were canceled; it wasn't until a day later while watching CNN did I discover AA's entire fleet of MD-80s were grounded— and I’m guessing not for bad behavior.

It seems to be a bad time to travel, between the terminal 5 chaos at Heathrow and this recent burst of incompetence. There’s not much I can recommend for those flying these days, except to expect delays, confusion, and frustration. Bring a good book when you fly, because you’re in for a long wait and I’m not talking about the flight.

Take a Walk: Adventure in the Cotswolds

Need to restore your faith in humanity? Walk the Cotswolds Way. Not only will you gain a new appreciation for nature, yourself, and your travel companions, but it will help to reassure that at the core of it all, people are kindhearted and helpful by nature.

I woke up a few weeks ago with a bizarre desire to walk through the English countryside to Bath. Explaining this objective to people elicited a range of responses, mostly declarations of my insanity. There were two daring souls, however, who were not only willing, but excited by the notion of a walking adventure: Miriam and Sarah.

OXFORD TO BROADWAY

We started at the college equivalent to the crack of dawn (i.e. 10 a.m.) and met up in the Gloucester Green in Oxford for a hearty breakfast at Combibos. After a sufficient caff up, we headed to the train station and caught a 1 p.m. train to Moreton-in-Marsh (£6.40). We wandered through the village, missed a bus, and ended up taking a taxi to our real starting point: Broadway. The Cotswolds Way is a 104-mile route across Southwest England that typically takes up to eight days to complete, so with only a four day weekend, we had to cut a few corners by rocking modern transport. Don’t hold it against us.

You’ll soon learn how to spot footpath signs when you venture through the Cotswolds; cue the hallelujah choir and light from above when you see those wooden sticks point you in the right direction. Maps can only tell you so much when you’re wandering through a sheep laden field sans compass.

BROADWAY TO CHELTENHAM

Our first trail was not an easy introduction to the whole walking thing—and when I say walking, it implies straight lines and concrete ground, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. I don’t want to say it was hiking either, because that suggests equipment and being semi-professional. No, this was a trek. And it all started with the second steepest “hill” in all the Cotswolds.

Can’t say the view was completely worth the struggle up the hill, but it was definitely magnificent. A few hours later, after a sufficient amount of panting, gasping, and swearing, we made our way to Cheltenham. As soon as we made it to the city centre, we found a bookstore and popped in to get some phone numbers to local hostels and hotels. We got some great advice from the clerk, who gave us directions to the YMCA. They had vacancy and for £17.50 each we secured a room to ourselves.

On our way to dinner, we noticed the majority of the older Cheltenham residents hurrying to the Town Hall. I stand by a theory I deduced while there— that they were escaping the teens of Cheltenham who roam the streets come nightfall. Seriously… the kids were taking over the streets of this city. Besides the fact Cheltenham lacked any charm whatsoever, I’d never want to spend more than a night there for the simple reason the underage population is vast, loud, and stupidly drunk.

CHELTENHAM TO PAINSWICK

In the a.m. we sought out the bus station and asked one of the nicest bus drivers I’ve ever encountered how to get to Birdlip, a small town that was site to our starting point for the day’s walk. He dropped us off within three miles of Birdlip and directed us where to walk from there. Clinging to the shoulder, we walked along the curvaceous roads that I had once been worried to drive on, let along walk along.

We passed through a golf course, got the evil stare down from annoyed golfers in funny pants, and escaped over a fence. Once we passed the Air Balloon Inn, a landmark on The Cotswolds Way, we were finally on the correct route. Climbed a giant hill to see a wonderful view of Gloucester and then the trail took us through beech woods to Cooper’s Hill. We followed woodland tracks and eventually made it to another golf course, signaling our proximity to Painswick. We descended into the village and found St. Annes B&B, where we had a reservation, straight away.

We were greeted by Iris McCormick and had a beyond lovely stay at this organic bed and breakfast. We first enjoyed a cup of tea and an amazingly sweet creation in the form of a biscuity-cake, had a shower, and then fought utter fatigue and went into town for a meal at The Royal Oak Inn. Plates cost upwards of £10 and if you catch them on fish night, you’ll be in for a treat.

Painswick is considered one of the most beautiful villages in the Cotswolds and it lived up to the title. In the morning we had a great breakfast, cooked to perfection by Iris and family, and then wandered around the city to the sound of church bells.

PAINSWICK TO BATH

A three-mile walk landed us in Stroud, where we found a market in full swing. We retired for the afternoon at a local pub to appease Sarah’s love of Ireland and rugby (Ireland vs. Wales). The weather turned on us Saturday and changed from blaring sun to drizzling rain, so we decided on a bus to Bath. For £5.00 we hopped on a terrifyingly old 10-seater that screamed up every hill and shook around every corner.

The riskiest bit of our trip wasn’t going into the woods without a compass or a map, but instead entering Bath on a Saturday night without hotel reservations. When we were coming into the city I noticed The Belvedere out the rain soaked window, so we gave them a call and they magically had a family room available for £95. Jumping on that opportunity, we took a taxi there and settled into a grand ensuite room on the top floor. Score one for playing it by ear!

A long list of rave reviews helped us decide on The Eastern Eye for dinner and so we made a reservation. The huge Georgian style room was packed to the max with chattering people diving into Indian food like their lives depended on it. When you walk into this place, ignore the crowd of people and just look up… the ceilings are amazing. After taking in your surroundings, watch out for scurrying waiters with rolling decks of plates passing by. The wait was long, the food a bit overrated, but the experience overall was an enjoyable one.

Bath itself is an odd tourist trap—you may feel like you’re stuck in an even cornier version of Disneyland when you check out the local landmarks. We got a joint student ticket for £14 for the baths and the Fashion Museum. The Fashion Museum is brilliant in theory, but fell short of my expectations. Interesting costumes and fashion, but you’d think the builder and organizer would have been inspired by the design surrounding them when constructing the museum. It was just a plain experience, with the bookstore being the most colorful part. And don’t get too psyched for the punk rock display, it’s about 20 framed black and whites that I could have used Google Images to see.

The Roman Baths were laughably rudimentary, with distracting children audio tour signs covering every inch of the building. They seemed to have ruined the experience with construction around all the important parts, along with unappealing tarp with fake columns painted adorning no-go areas. Tourists were moving slower than slugs and wouldn’t hear you try to pass by above the roar of their audio tours. So don’t believe the brochure when it tells you it’s “the best 90 minutes…spent in Europe.” A 90 minute nap would beat that. But you can’t go to Bath without seeing its namesake landmark, so relax by the pool of water and watch the steam rise.

Overall I got a good vibe from the city of Bath, with its balanced mix of charm and practicality. As a tourist, you could easily do it justice in a day, but spending a few days there exploring the city life is certainly feasible.

BATH TO OXFORD

Calling it a day around 2, we bought £13 train tickets home to Oxford. A four-day walking adventure may have ended on a train, but we certainly got our trek on in between. The cheese will ooze from this next sentiment, but I honestly learned a lot about myself during this random experience—a few days walking in the woods with a couple of friends has the tendency to do that to a person.

Can’t say I’d rock the whole walking tour again, but it feels like a major accomplishment over 30 trekked miles later. I recommend this jaunt for those who need a breath of fresh air and a reassessment of mankind, because we met the most helpful, kind souls while on this trip. Goes to show that in the end, it’s the journey, not the destination, that matters*.

*I apologize for the cliché journey/destination combo line at the end, but it was just irresistible.