Day 3 - Hallstatt

In the morning, while the boys embarked on a long, manly, strenuous bike ride, we girls decided to sample the culture. Which meant museum, shops and bakeries. Here are some of my favourite finds and shops:

("capitalist pig", "petrol money", "my last money")

Below is the floor of the largest souvenir shop. While digging for the foundation of the building, they came across important archeological finds. So they left them there, built around them and displayed them as best they could. I found this to be the most important aspect of the culture in this part of the world. They disturb as little as they can of nature, even if it means sacrificing some of their own comfort.

The train station is on the other side of the lake, and you can only reach it by boat. They did it that way instead of drilling through the mountain to make more room. And some houses are buit straddling the stream that falls right in the town centre, instead of diverting its course.

And the dead are dug up every 10 years to...but that's another story. Here are my favourite museum pieces:
a celt's hat
animal figurines:
bronze fibula (must replicate in textile form):
the birthing chair: (yes, this is what it says, a chair that moved around from family to family as needed, and onto which generations of hallstatt women gave birth)
a medieval kitchen:
and some medieval ice skates:
An illustration of the big fire of 1750. The negligence of the baker's wife started it, and 35 houses were destroyed.
The houses at the two extremities of the fire are now painted red and stand as reminder. This is the one where the fire started. I couldn't find the other one.


A fun cube of mirrors in the museum:
After an intense session of sightseeing and shopping in the b;azing heat, there was only one thing on my mind. And I offered it to myself freely: bathing in that cool, wonderfully clear lake. This time it was sunny and there were no waves, so I lasted for waay longer than 10 minutes:
I think I'd choose this any time over sandy beaches in exotic locations.

But my moments of relaxation were cut short by a spur-of-the-moment decision to circle the lake on bikeback. And a great decision it proved to be, as it is now my most vivid memory of the entire trip. It was already late in the afternoon, the sun wasn't blazing anymore, and on those wide and safe bicycle lanes, it was sheer delight.

We took a wrong turn, but the view proved to be anything but wrong:
Back onto the right route, my delight soon faded when forced to pedal up some steep hills.
Smiling for the camera:
...and how I was actually feeling:

But we were only half way and the big challenge was still to come. A long narrow and (of course) see-though floored path, made by man in order to compensate for the lack of room for a proper path on that side of the mountain. And it gets worse when the steel path becomes a squeaky, wobbly and transparent-floored bridge over the deep green lake. It was interesting to bike while people canoed beneath you. And it took me a lot of nerve to not give up and cross the bridge on foot. But I did it!
The sun was starting to go behind the mountains when we realised that in our enthusiasm we had forgotten to take with us anything that would have been useful: a watch, the gps, a phone... With no way to tell how long we had till dark, we decided to turn back.

I huffed and puffed up those hills again, and then enjoyed the steep, speedy descent. Wind in my face, lake at my side, I felt such joy and gratitude for the chance to experience this, that I felt I had to express it somehow. So I hugged the Austrian land and took my bike along with me. I totally deformed one of the pedals and got meself a nice bruise. I was lucky it wasn't worse, but now I have something to be teased about.
Finally returning to the camping ground, we landed in the middle of some folk party, with people dressed in traditional costumes, singing and dancing. It didn't seem planned or professional, since most people didn't even seem to know the words to the songs very well. But I later noticed how casually and happily everybody wears their traditional costumes, without needing the excuse of some holiday.

And that was the end of day 3. I really wanted to go join the folk party, but I fell flat on my face in the tent, fully dressed, and woke up the next morning.

Fourth stop: Dortmund

You know how it feels when you've had way too much chocolate, etc etc ...? Forget it; there's no chocolate in this story. Or any kind of food, for that matter. Or toilets.

It started on a beautiful spring morning. It was 5am. The respectable citizens of Maastricht were still sleeping, safe in their picture-perfect houses, while I and the 15kgs on my back (now enriched by items as diverse as books, marinated fish or wooden clogs) were walking cheerfully towards the train station. A succession of 4 trains was meant to take me to Dortmund, where I would catch my flight home. I had planned it so that I would have some sightseeing time before catching the 12:45 flight.

The time for getting off one train and finding your way to the next was no longer than 4 minutes at any given station. All went well for the first two changes, and I defied nature by breaking the speed record of any Transilvanian who ever had to find his/her way in a train station. Third time unlucky, though. Despite the help of a gentleman who almost missed his own train in order to show me around (random act of kindness no. 2), it took me perhaps 4 minutes and 3 seconds to get to the right platform; just enough to see the doors close and the train leave right under my nose. Bugger! I was stranded in the beautiful town of Viersen, located precisely in the middle of nowhere.

After a long row of multilingual curses directed at Germanic precision, I decided to proceed in an orderly fashion and take it one need at a time. The first and most pressing need was that of finding a toilet, closely followed by the need to find a tourist information desk where I could find out what to do next. Surprise! the train station was composed of nothing but a (very expensive!) bakery and a newspaper shop. No info, no ticket desk, no toilet! Projecting the image of a nice toilet as a future reward at the next stop, I proceeded to struggle with the ticket machine, and obtained a new ticket on the next train to Dortmund. By now I was already an hour behind schedule.

I still had one more change, and I managed that admirably, though without the time to use a toilet. It was now getting quite late, definitely no time left for sightseeing, it would have to be straight to the airport. But phew, I was finally on the last train, I would be in Dortmund soon, everything was going to be fine now... Or not. 16 km before reaching Dortmund, the train breaks down! 40 minutes delay! Not good at all. I got lucky again, when an old lady who spoke English offered to take me to another train that was going to Dortmund (random act of kindness no.3). There we were, old lady running through the station, looking over her shoulder from time to time to check if the young fraulein with the big backpack was following. Up stairs we go, and down some stairs, and through underground passages we go, until she puts me onto the correct train in the nick of time. I give thanks to all the big-nippled Jesuses out there, as my only concern now (apart from trying not to wet my pants) was making it to the airport in time.

Finally, Dortmund! No pilgrim was ever happier to see Mecca than I to have finally seen myself off the last train. In the excitement of the moment, I forget to go toilet and go straight towards the airport shuttle. Shock and horror! I was 10 minutes late and the next one was leaving in an hour and a half's time! Sure as pee was pee, I was going to miss my flight! But I must have had a little lucky sprite or two left on my shoulder, as the nice girl at the tourist info desk tells me I might just make it if I take this subway followed by this bus to the airport. I rush to buy the tickets (lots of hand gesturing, giggles, and misunderstood words) with, of course, only a few minutes left to get to the subway. Get onto the subway, get off the subway, run to the bus, get off the wrong bus, cross the road, get onto the right bus... phew, almost there! The need to pee returns stronger than ever. My dad rings. I assure him I'm fine, just peachy, never been better.

Finally-finally, the airport! The check-in being still open, I get rid of my backpack and rush to the toilets. But why would they make it easy! There's a door for men and a door for disabled, no ladies'! I decide that my current circumstances excuse my being rude, and I go into the disabled, but it was dark. Groping around on the wall for a light switch, I press something. The light doesn't come on, but instead a voice talks to me in German. I choose to ignore it, but it insists. In the meantime I manage to turn the light on and realise I had actually pressed the alarm button. Omg, they were sending an intervention team, an ambulance, who knows what, my way, to find that the only thing disabling me is a full bladder! I apologise nicely to the speaker in the wall, he excuses me, and I finally get to enjoy the happiest 3 minutes of my entire trip.

After which I board the plane, fall asleep instantly and wake up above Timisoara. Ahh, dust, rudeness and colourful gypsies... home at last! I hadn't eaten in 25 hours, and after completing that task most successfully (3 servings of pasta, thanks Mørti!) I was able to see the comical side of the day of March 3, when a silly Transilvanian girl crossed 3 countries without peeing.

And thus ended the adventures of said silly Transilvanian girl. Thanks for joining me, I hope you enjoyed them too. I might put more pretty pics in future posts, if I decide you haven't seen enough.

Third stop: Maastricht

You know how it feels when you've had way too much chocolate, and you're a bit queasy etc etc ...? Yeah... too much Jesus this time. Take the maximum number of cathedrals you can possibly imagine in a city of 60,000 inhabitants (and I mean cathedrals, not little neighbourhood churches), add another 10 or so for good measure, multiply that by 5 and you've got Maastricht. They're all so beautiful! However, this overabundance of cathedrals means they have to be repurposed in various ways in order to prevent their falling into ruin. Thus was created one of the coolest things I've ever seen so far:

A dominican church built in 1290 and recently converted into a book store, the largest I've ever been into.
It also houses a cafe, where customers eat at a (how fitting!) cross-shaped table:
Another cathedral had this sign on it. Maybe it's a church during the day and a dance club at night... "exercise your demons with DJ Moses!"

If Gothenburg is the big cake (round and fluffy... with almond icing...) that leaves you full, happy and exhaustingly delighted, Maastricht is the bag of lollies you eat on the couch on a lazy Sunday: a city that even in early spring has the appearance of a resort: colourful crowds, souvenir shops, packed outdoor cafes and lots of noise. Not homely, but fun for a holiday.

It's also the most bike-friendly city I've ever been into: properly marked lanes (that do not end suddenly, like in NZ), separate traffic lights, and drivers that are very protective of bikers. My biggest question remains... how on earth do you find your own bike at the end of the day?!

Being Holland, yes, some streets smell of marijuana. The specialised shops are called "grow shops" and they sell anything from plants to smoking accessories to themed souvenirs.
And just for fun, a collage of various representations of Jesus. My favourite remains the one with the very well defined nipples, hihi.
Stay tuned for fourth and last stop: Dortmund. You'll want popcorn for that one!

First stop: Göteborg

Gothenburg was for a while in a close competition with Wellington for the title of most beautiful city I've ever seen. They both have that unique quality of soothing the lonely, of making one feel at home and quite welcome. But being that Gothenburg has the added bonus of a solid history behind it, I'd say it will be the winner.

It's hard to describe all the feelings the city gave me, but if I had to put it in one word, it would be "home". If I somehow had the opportunity to live there, I would start packing tomorrow. Looking at the pictures now, I realise they barely capture the idea I'm trying to put across here. The light was rather dull most of the time; serves me right for travelling to Scandinavia in winter! And I also failed to take pictures of the things I loved most: the cute narrow streets of Haga and their overwhelmingly tempting shops, the ginger cat begging for cuddles from each passerby, the almost mystical white lights in all the windows, all the stuff I've eaten, the timid stripy light over a certain wine-red couch, so many original paintings that I couldn't believe I was actually seeing for real... But how about I stop babbling and show you some pics?
First thing I visited: the Maritime Museum. Nice view of the harbour. The statue is the sailors' tower, with a generic and solemn looking woman at the top, waiting for her husband/brother/son to return from the sea. Her fixed stare and the dress billowing in the wind do give you quite a feeling of gloom and longing, especially against those gray skies. The seagull didn't seem to be so impressed though:
This is what I called "the happy church". I don't remember its name, but I was in awe at the mental complexity of whatever architect designed it. Would have looked awesome with a shiny copper roof, but such a thing is impossible there, hence green roofs and green statues are for me a trademark of the city. Not to mention it made this cathedral look... well, happy! :>
The cathedral in the Haga disctrict I mentioned above:
One of the highlights of my trip - the fish church! Apart from looking pretty, it's filled with yummy fish dishes, as well as not so friendly looking whole fishes, staring up at you from their beds of ice. I bought fish prepared in several different ways, which got eaten way before I thought of pulling my camera out.
Behind the fish market... just a normal block of flats. On a cliff. In the centre. Don't you just love this city?
The city hall building and the flag of the city. And a beautiful sunny day, which made me feel like saying "in your face!" to all the people who had warned me about the nasty Scandinavian weather this time of the year.
Founder of the city, with the city hall in the background.
A very pretty street along one of the canals, on the same sunny day.
Can you tell the sun has an instant positive effect on my mood?
Poor sick bird on the side of the road. I felt like a big meanie. Why? Well, how would u like it if one day you couldn't fly and someone took pictures of you instead of calling an ambulance? Nice view of the frozen canal and some more architecture in the background.
At the city museum. Viking treasures galore.

There were some nature walks too (cold memories of snowy paths, wet feet and grumbling, followed by a compensating hot bath).Turns out I did take a pic of at least one thing I've eaten - the semlor. I wasn't impressed with the taste, but they are common fare in cafes, and this tree is quite pretty.
Doesn't this look a bit Transilvanian? The mist, the tower, the naked branches... boo!
I just liked the colours in this one.
The only half-decent pic I have of lamps in the windows. It's taken from a moving tram, so excuse the quality. I loved the look, though, so homely.
The old city gate (obviously) at night.
I know, this last one has nothing to do with history, or architecture, or anythig of the sort, but it is one of my strongest memories. Ladies and gents, meet Billy-Bob. He has a very intelligent expression, doesn't he? He lives at the Natural History Museum and whoever stuffed him was demented. I spent about 10 mins in front of his display case, laughing. One could say this stuffed animal is totally stuffed!

And this was my week spent in the city of the Goths. I have way more memories than photos, but I hope you have seen at least a part of what made this city so cool for me :)

My trip started going downhill from here. Stay tuned for next stop: Brussels!