Walking in a Winter Wonderland, European Style
Posted in Travel, Work on December 25th, 2009 
Yet another trip to Europe. This time though, I decided to go when it would be all pretty and white. The real reason I was going to Europe again is because my colleague had visa issues. He had a paper accepted to a conference in Meran, Italy, but was not able to go himself. Our adviser also was reluctant to go for obvious reasons. Thus, I did what any noble, chivalrous person might. I selfishly volunteered to go and have all the fun for him. I know, I know, I’m a nice guy.
This trip took me through a lot of countries, including two to which I had yet to visit: Austria and Slovakia. I also got to visit a new city in Italy, Meran. I’ll tell you more about that in a bit.
To start, the path of my journey went through Northern England, Paris, Western Germany, Zürich, Meran, Padova (near Venice), Vienna, and Bratislava (the capital of Slovakia), and Southern England. As mentioned previously, the first priority of the trip was to present my colleague’s research in Meran. The second point was, as opposed to previous trips, to see friends again. Most of the places I visited, I’d been to before. I wanted to take some time, relax, maybe even do a bit of work, and just visit with old friends that I hadn’t seen in quite a while.
All About Food: After proof reading this, I came to realize that the entire point of this trip was not just to see friends, but also to gorge myself on massive quantities of food. Hurray European cuisine!
What the heck was I thinking: As I landed into Heathrow, the pilot made an announcement “Hello all, just wanted to let you know the current weather in London. It’s sunny and a scorchingly hot 5C.” That’s 40F. I left Davis in 22C (68F) weather. What the heck was I thinking coming to Europe in the winter? I’m gonna die.
Trains in England: Inexplicably more expensive than those in the rest of Europe.
When I first arrived to London, I got ahold of my friend Carl and we found a tube stop at which we could meet, then go for lunch. We finished with enough time for me to make it to London Euston station at 14h40. When I got into the station, I went to a self-service ticket station and tried to book a ticket to Preston, England. The first thing I noticed is that the cost was £78. That threw already. Then I noticed that was the cost for “off-peak” travel, whose departure must be at or before 15h15. I had just missed the 14h30 train, and the next train didn’t leave until 15h30. I was a bit concerned, so I went to the ticket office and sure enough, I had to catch an on-peak train. The cost you ask? £130! That’s more than $200!
Oh but the fun doesn’t stop there. No, oh no. So instead of giving the train a track number ahead of time, the station waited for the train to arrive before announcing the platform. This was a train from London to Glasgow (and it was full, more on this later), so there were several hundred people all waiting at the departure board. As soon as the platform was announced, everyone made a mad dash for it. Seriously, it could’ve been a flash mob had it not been for a purpose.
So I fight through the crowds, make my way onto the train, and shortly thereafter discover that the entire thing is booked solid. I hadn’t thought to ask for a reservation, and the ticketer hadn’t though to ask me if I wanted one. I ended up spending £130 to sit next to the restroom, on my luggage, for three hours. Screw you, National Rail services.
Tenenbaum: Rachel knew I was sad that I wouldn’t get to have my Christmas tree festivities back in Davis. So she did what any good friend would, she “made” me put up her tree.
Another Premier League Game: Rachel had thought enough in advance to get some tickets to see Blackburn play Liverpool. It ended 0-0. The first half was quite crap, but the second half was very entertaining to watch. Gerrard played, but Torres was injured, unfortunately.
Käsespätzle: Rachel hosted many people for the night. Me, Sue, Martyn, and Sue’s friend (I’m really sorry, I already forget her name…). As we were planning for dinner the night before, Rachel asked what we would like. I thought “why not something with a lot of cheese” and recommended käsespätzle. Sue was more than happy to jump on that bandwagon. She looked up a recipe (in German), and 2 kilos of Gruyere (and 12,000 calories) later, we were eating fresh made spätzle. Life is good.
I hate European economy lines: But I’ll still use them. Luckily the flight (which was on a propeller plane) from Manchester to Paris was short, only a little more than an hour. I found it funny how as we were taxiing, a lot of people were getting their bags. This happens all the time. However, there was an incredibly indignant flight attendant who kept getting on the speaker and telling people to stay seated until the fasten- seat belt sign was removed. It made me laugh. But still, I hate economy lines in Europe. With the exception of speed of travel, everything about them is crap.
Wine is so cheap in France: After I landed, Sara, Sunny, and I stopped by a corner market to get some things for dinner. This included a bottle of red wine. When the total was shown, I was astonished. The final price was €6 (about $8.50). I asked if the guy forgot to ring up the wine, and Sunny said “no, the bottle was €2,50.” Admittedly it wasn’t a wine you’d have by itself because it’s so awesome, but it was a good dinner wine. I still can’t get over it.
Jetlagged or just recovering from the quarter: I couldn’t tell which it was, but for my first five days in Europe, which included two nights in London and three nights in Paris, I was sleeping in indefinitely. Sara and Rachel had to wake me up between 10 and 11 because I was missing all the fun. And it’s not like I was getting to sleep late. ‘t’was weird.
Getting to the top of Notre Dame de Paris: Sara and I found out why the line is so ridiculous. Only twenty people are admitted every ten minutes. We waiting in line, in the (what, at the time, was to me) cold, for about two hours. However, the view from atop was well worth it.
Fondue pots aren’t always found where you’d expect them: Sara, Sunny, and I went looking for fondue pots in a department store. The cheapest pot for savory fondue was €95. We were taken aback because we figured it would be around €30. We ended up buying two ceramic pots for sweet fondues, which did the trick just fine. Each was €15 so it fit the price point we were looking for perfectly. However, we still were bummed we didn’t get a savory pot. Funny thing though, the next day Suny and I went to a Fromagerie, and right there in the front of the store were decent-quality, savory-fondue pots for €30. Le sigh…
Cheese is also cheap in Paris: Seriously. I forgot how cheap good cheese. I think I spent in total about €10 on cheese for non-fondue consumption while in France. Which, if you do the price conversions for what we pay in the US, would’ve been about $50.
Sunny hates the french postal system: I’ll let her tell the story, but I don’t blame her. It’s pretty awful, especially after dealing with the German, US, and Korean systems. Which, despite all the bitching we do, actually work. More than can be said of the French system sometimes.
Staff Strike = Free Admission: Such was the sign on the entrance to the Musee d’Orsay. Hurray for French people constantly going on strike! Of course, the entire top level of the museum was closed because of the strike. Boo for French people constantly going on strike!
Crepes are still awesome: Though they are a bit expensive, nothing beats a nice, sweet crepe while wandering around an old neighborhood in Paris. I had a nutella (advertised as chocolate, I feel bad for those allergic to hazelnuts) crepe for €3 while wandering around Montmartre. I miss it already…
Spanish tortilla, AKA the devil: Not really the devil, more of a bitch than anything. I don’t know what we did wrong, but it just wouldn’t cook properly. It went from a tortilla to scrambled eggs and potatoes. But still quite good. Oh well, that’s what happens when you try to cook Spanish food in France. The normal laws of cooking go on strike.
I <3 French Dessert: After the tortilla, we enjoyed some wonderful beaufort and a buche de noël, or a yule sweet cake.
I came, I saw, I conquered. It only took three trips to Paris: I don’t know why, but the small statue of liberty took me forever to find. My first two trips to Paris, I hadn’t written down the location, and I couldn’t find it. This time, I knew where it was, but it took forever to make my way to it because it was farther from the Eiffel Tower than I thought. Got my proof though…
Shiny, shiny, shiny: I like how the Eiffel Tower lights up at night. Not quite so happy about the seizure inducing strobe lights that go off every hour though.
Picodon de l’Ardeche: Per Arnaud’s advice, I picked some up. I got the softer, less-matured variety and it was indeed quite tasty. Sad that I left half of it in Saarbrücken.
Good french meals aren’t always easy to find: You can randomly wander into a restaurant, but you don’t always get the best food possible. Luckily, Steffen knew of a great restaurant near St. Michel (I think). The food was good, the company was great, and even the french owner of the place was funny. Who’d'a thunk it?
First class is not always the way to go: Being as I’m now too old to buy a youth-saver ticket from Eurail, I had to buy a first-class ticket. I fully intended to take advantage of the amenities, so when I left from Paris to Saarbrücken, I hopped aboard and enjoyed my first class experience. That was, of course, until was told that a €30 reservation for the train was mandatory. F***!
Germany beats France, again: In terms of Christmas markets, the German regions simply know what they’re doing. Even Saarbrücken, a tiny town of 150,000 people, had a Christmas market three times the size and ten times nicer than the one in Paris.
Manhattan: No, not the city, the bar. After getting dinner in Saarbrücken, I met up with Dawid, Lionel, Robert, Conny, Carsten, Martin, and Boris at a cocktail bar. We went there because Thursday is “Happy Day.” €4 cocktails. Of course, you get what you pay for, they had pretty much no alcohol.
Why I usually set an alarm: Because my friend Dawid said that he’d set his, so I didn’t set mine, and he ended up snoozing for half an hour. I caught my train from Saarbrücken to Zürich, though with literally about forty-five seconds to spare.
Never go to Zürich: The place is just soooo expensive. I forgot how completely ridiculous the prices were. A hot chocolate? $7.50!
Again, the German regions just get it done: Zürich had a really big Christmas market (Christkindlimarkt in Swiss German). And of course, it wouldn’t be Zürich unless something was über-expensive. That would be the three-million CHF christmas tree, so valued because every ornament was a swarovski crystal. It was protected by a three-meter glass barrier.
First snow in Europe: As time progressed, the cold got worse and worse. Unfortunately, the rain washed out our plans to go sledding near Zürich, but we were able to go up to the ETH and see some real snow. We even had snowball fights! I have no aim, so I kept aiming for the branches above the guys to get snow to fall. Of course, that resulted in head shots to Pieter and Matthias. Sorry guys… Oh, but seriously Pieter, that last snowball was Matthias. I swear to whatever diety you propose.
Every heart beats true: Even the foreigners. Frederick bought an extra duvet and pillow for me. ‘t’was… appropraite I guess. = )
Gib mir benzin fondue!: We had fondue the second night in Zürich. Did I suggest it? No. Did I object to it? Hell no! And afterwards, beer pong. This is Matthias and Frederick after all. And now they both know not to turn their back on the double bounce.
Everything Is Illuminated: I finished the book. Adélaïde gave it to me before I left. It was very good, though hard to read at times because of the crazy Ukranian writing.
The Alps by any other name would still look as beautiful: Training through the snow-covered Alps was absolutely spectacular. I’ll miss the sight of the mountain tremendously.
Trains are always late: I forgot that outside of Germany, trains are always late.
Lack of Tact: I love how nerds aren’t known for tact. During the poster session, a guy from MSR came up to me and said that my colleague’s work was addressing a problem that was solved fifteen years ago. He then continued on, saying that his problem domain was obviously (and the only one) worth investigating. Oh well, besides that the poster session and the rest of the conference went great.
Du[ea]l Languages: Meran is a town inhabited by a mix of Germanic (I think more closely related to Austria than Germany or Swissyland) and Italian people. Most people speak both languages, or at least 1.5 languages. It was interesting to see shops with German signs immediately next to shops with Italian signs, immediately next to shops with both. And of course, because it’s a German area, the Christmas market was great.
Prepaid data access in Italy sucks: If all you need is email though, Vodafone is the way to go. Their “mobile internet special” for €3/week works great for email. For everything else, traffic is diverted through their WAP portal, which doesn’t work at all on smart phones.
English-language books are expensive abroad: Since I finished the book Adélaïde gave me, I need to get another one. I bought “A Good Thief’s Guide to Paris” for €10,50. It probably would’ve cost $6.99 in the US.
Conference Banquet: We got taken to Schloss Katzenzungen about forty minutes away from the city. The castle was quite nice, and the dinner was excellent. After dinner (and for some, a lot of drinks), we had a jazz performance, as well as a performance of “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” by two of the conference committee members.
Northeast Italy’s Castles: There were a lot of them on the ride from Meran to Padova. It was quite cool to see them. Most weren’t too big, but they looked impressive, sitting up on the hilltops, daring medeival armies to attack it.
Italian graduation celebration: Magda and Chiara explained to me that in Italy, when one graduates with their (equivalent of the U.S. undergraduate) degree, the person goes through a public display of humiliation. First a poster is made that tells stories of the person. On the poster there is a drawing of the person which typically has many phallic symbols. The graduate must, in costume, read the stories from the poster. When the person screws up, they have to drink, as well as get splashed with either water or beer by their friends. The splashing is typically followed by someone throwing flour on the person. Did I mention that this happens in a very public place? So the end result that is everyone is drunk (especially the graduate), laughing, and the graduate is thoroughly inebriated by the end of the session. It was really fun to watch.
Full-day train trips: Padova->Vienna was a “wake up at 05h30, get into Vienna at 18h30″ trip that involved a crazy taxi ride (80 km/h in a 30km/h, awesome), four transfers, and several delays. Ugh… Since I was riding in first class, there really wasn’t anyone to talk to. The cabins were pretty empty. And when there were people on the train, they were typically older (many looked like traveling, retired americans). I did get to see Austria under the snow though. Absolutely spectacular. Especially Salzburg. I wish I could’ve stopped to wander around for a little while.
Early morning delivery: Mohammed and Dawid showed up to Vienna around 03h30. Yes, in the morning. It took them eleven hours to get there from Saarbrücken. After some sleep, we wandered out into the city to see some sights.
Just can’t get enough: of Vienna’s Christmas lights downtown that is. They weren’t too fancy, but just really nice to walk around underneath them.
No such thing as too much: Though some might argue that point. I had four hot chocolates in one day in Vienna. Heavenly.
It’s good you came in Summer, in Winter it can get veeery depressing: After seeing most of the external sights of Vienna on Saturday, the three of us drive to Bratislava on Sunday afternoon for dinner and some sights. I couldn’t help but laugh and think of Eurotrip the entire time.
Oh how I love thee, let me count the ways: I can never get enough of pasties. They’re just so good! And even though I make them myself in the US, they’re different in England and I love not having to cook for an hour and a half.
FAIL!: That would be England’s ability (or complete lack thereof) to deal with the snow in the south. EVERY single train from London going south was either canceled or delayed. Luckily the train to Shoreham-By-Sea was a regular and “delayed” just meant that I caught the next train.
Indian Food in England: Was, I must say, different from Indian food in America. I definitely enjoyed it though. I had it twice, once with Tom, his girlfriend Sammy, and their friend Jasmine. That was in Shoreham-By-Sea and then once with Miles near Brick Lane at the East End. Miles described the East End as a place where posh Londoners go to slum it. I love that description.
The San Francisco of England: Brighton was quite nice I have to say. There were a lot of parallels with San Francisco, and more than just that each city is the gay-culture center of their respective country. The lanes in Brighton reminded me of Haight-Ashbury (I’m going to be going backwards on these analogies, because I saw SF first). The Brighton Pier was pretty much Pier 39. Both are on the sea. Both have milder weather than the inland areas. And both are very nice.
What, this is it?: That was my impression of the Brighton Christmas Market. Tom’s as well actually. It was really small, only seven stalls in total. But the nice was that the wurstchen stall was operated by Germans. Ich will mehr wurstchen. = (
Kenny Boy: I managed to see Ken for a bit as well. He met Tom and I in Brighton for lunch and then showed us this dessert place called “Scoop and Crumb” that was quite good.
Delays, delays, delays: The train I caught from Shoreham to London was absolutely jam packed. That’s because it was only three coaches instead of four, and it was carrying six trains worth of people, because the previous five had been cancelled. So instead of a relaxing train ride for an hour with some light reading, I got to stand shoulder-to-shoulder for two hours by the doors, and thus freeze whenever we stopped at a station.
No Kittie, that’s my pot pie! Bad Kitty!: I got to meet Alex for lunch in London. We went to a great restaurant that served wonderful pies in Covent Garden. I also got to try an Eton Mess, which I have to admit was splendid.
Chef Goes Nanners: But Miles, Jen, Rich, and I went to Banners instead. It was a quaint place near Highgate, where Miles and Jen are living.
Life is better in First Class: The saying is never more true than when I get bumped up to first class on the flight back to the US. God Bless overbooking flights = ) And I figured out why I keep getting bumped. I book premium economy, and I’m a single, foreign passenger. So when economy gets overbooked (which always happens), I’m usually one of the first premium economy passengers to get double-booked. Then, when it comes down to me showing up, and an economy passenger who got bumped to premium economy, they upgrade me since I payed for the more expensive seat. As I said, God Bless overbooking flights!
