Athens, Greece

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Note: nearly all pictures of my time in Greece were deleted due to a software glitch.

I believe if Athens were to run an ad campaign in the style of the typical market shop owner, it would go “you want old rock? We got old rocks!” There are so many fenced off ruins littering the place, at a glance it almost appears to be the sole attraction. I find it funny they charge foreigners to see some of these up close, as they look just as old and just as rocky from either side of the fence. Now don’t get me wrong, I like old bits of history as much as the next guy, but I feel more could have been done to capture one’s imagination. For example, they could have posted something explaining the significance of the ruins or re-erected the fallen pillars and assembled them back into something resembling what they once were rather than just leaving them scattered and broken as if a toddler had neglected to pick up his toy blocks all over the place. Having said that, I still went out and saw all the ruins; cause hey, old rocks.

Aside from the rocks, Athens is home to some of the best Souvlaki and Gyros one can lay their hands on. It is delicious and meaty and will almost consistently have you coming back for more. Luckily the best Souvlaki in town is just at the center of one of the more vibrant areas of the city, surrounded by flea markets, touristy shops, and long alleyways with street musicians and performers, so there is plenty of opportunity to come back to meat heaven between leisurely strolls.

Once you’ve had your fill of rocks and meat, you realize Athens is currently home to an active anti-establishment movement that organizes strikes and demonstrations through squats that have become a kind of ad-hoc headquarters. They play loud music, the lyrics of which plead the plights of the common man; and hand out leaflets that explain and justify their cause. After wondering around a bit, I find out they are to organize a demonstration (read: riot) the day my flight is set to leave from Athens to Tel-Aviv. At first I wonder if I’d be able to make my flight, but once I figure out a good escape route I think: hey, this could be fun. So I grab the nearest willing crazy tourist and we hit the streets. We see all stages of a good demonstration: preparation, organization, formation into ranks, marching, chanting, Molotov Cocktails, tear-gas, riot police, dispersion, regrouping, marching again, etc. Having watched the whole thing unfold from a rooftop café and from the streets, I feel my day complete. I leave my new riot partner in the capable hands of the riot and blitz to the hostel to get my bag and leave to the airport.

Meteora, Greece

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Note: nearly all pictures of my time in Greece were deleted due to a software glitch.

Meteora is a small town with a single unique attraction, monasteries built on high sheer cliffs. I recall being told its one of the most photographed locations in the world, and when you see the pictures it makes sense. Looking at these monasteries one gets images of a sophisticated yet secluded civilization, as if another Atlantis perhaps existed in the skies.

Alas, aside from this one attraction, Meteora does not have much to offer. They obviously cater to this one niche, and not much else. If this is a place one has in mind to visit, I recommend coming in very early, as the monasteries close early afternoon, spending the day, and getting out of town on the next available bus.

This plan, while great in theory, did not quite work out for me, as I decided to wait for the very last bus out of town, as it would have synchronized nicely with the night bus into Athens. Now at this late hour, there is not much in the way of a bus stop, passengers, or busses; so knowing where to wait is a little tricky. The bus was late and I was getting edgy, so I strayed a few meters from the area where the bus was to arrive to get a better look at the highway to see if I could spot it on the horizon. It was at this moment that the bus flashed by the station, and seeing there was no one standing there, decided to simply keep on going call it quits for the night. Chasing the bus did me little good, and I resorted to attempting to hitchhike to the next town, a mere 20km away, but too far away to walk and still catch the night bus to Athens. Clearly I was not pretty or desperate looking enough for this tactic to work in the middle of the night, from which I gathered an important lesson; at night, every hitchhiker appears to be a crazed serial killer.

Thessaloniki, Greece

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Note: nearly all pictures of my time in Greece were deleted due to a software glitch.

Thessaloniki is a small vibrant city on the north eastern coast of Greece near Turkey and Bulgaria. Its unique location gives rise to several unique oddities. One, is that the architecture is almost decidedly not Greek, or at least not what I would think of when thinking of Greece, but rather more Eastern-European. The other, is that unlike much of Greece, which is preoccupied with Gyros and Souvlaki, Thessaloniki is really into seafood. It is here that I’ve had one of the more interesting dishes to date; squid on rice, cooked in its own ink.

Food and architecture aside, Thessaloniki is simply a mountainous, vibrant city with a strong youth culture and interesting graffiti. I would recommend walking along the seaside boardwalk towards Thessaloniki’s iconic white tower, or wondering about the main square in the center of the city which features many interesting shops and restaurants with local live folk music that the locals actually sing to (given they’ve had the right amount of Ouzo).

On a somewhat random note, I happened to be in Thessaloniki during an international film festival. As is customary, many experimental and international films were shown.  While this is often fun, I do vividly recall one horrible set of short films set in different regions that played out like someone’s very old and boring homoerotic vacation slides. No plot, no dialog, just a bunch of different guys of different ethnicities playing with themselves in different places. Luckily, I was able to theater hop and watch something less boring.

Tirana, Albania

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Note: nearly all pictures of my time in Albania were deleted due to a software glitch.

The most common question you will ever hear about Albania is "where is it?", closely followed by "what is there to do there?". The answers are "just north-west of Greece" and "not much" respectively.
If asked why I decided to go there, the only honest answer I could muster is that I knew nothing about it, that it was close by, and that I was told I could hitchhike there without too much trouble.
The last part was only partly true; It took me three rides to get to the border with Albania, despite it being a short drive away. Once I crossed it, there was a significant walk until I reached anything mildly resembling civilization from which I could find another ride. The last ride was a long journey to Tirana, the capital city, with two interestin Albanians who did not speak a word of English. This lack of English turned out to be typical of the general population, which gave me reason to improve my pantomiming skills.

After performing the usual song and dance a few times, I started wondering at this staggering lack of English, and asked around. It seems for one reason or another, the country remained closed to much of the outside world until very recently, and as such, no one had much reason or opportunity to learn much English. This country's closed nature is also evident in the lack of the usual global corporations. You will not find a single McDonald's or KFC here, but you will find a Klonat and an AFC if you look for them. I did stumble across a mall near the center of the city with a few familiar brands, though I suspect most of the locals buy their wares at the local marketplaces (where one can find live chickens next to knock-off track-suits). It is these quaint and unusual details that give Tirana it's charms.

Travelling outside of Tirana in Albania gives you as nice a variety as one can ask for so long as you're willing to put up with dirt roads and buses that take forever. Kruje has neat cobble-stoned bazaars and a fortress-museum. Pellumbas is a tiny village at the base of a mountainous climb culminating in a drip cave. Durres offers a touristy Mediterranean shore with that unmistakable seaside smell. Berat, the city of a thousand windows, gives one a unique ancient feeling with a small town mentality. And finally, though it was too late for me to see Sarande, I was told it has a beautiful beach with excellent scuba-diving. With such diversity and pure unspoiled sights, it is no wonder that Albania came first in Lonely Planet's countries for 2011.

Ohrid, Macedonia

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Ah Ohrid, the jewel of Macedonia. Ohrid is one of those places that you would hardly ever think of visiting were it not for the whole hearted recommendations of other travelers. It is a small little village on the coast of a small lake which used to specialize in making fake pearl jewelry. Now it is mostly a small vacation spot with picturesque architecture, reasonably priced food, and ample forestry to stomp through. One wouldn't think there is much to see or do here... and they'd be right, but they'd still end up staying twice as long as planned.

Once here it simply becomes too easy to sit and relax, drink, smoke, and play chess for hours on end. While the general atmosphere in this town has much to do with this feeling, I believe that it was truly the people who sealed the deal. My dorm-mates were a couple of cool Brits who made Ohrid a home base of sorts; it was with these two that I bar-hopped, cycled around the lake, and went off trail on a nearby mountain. The hostel owners we these two lovable guys who would put together the occasional party or poker game with the locals, and introduce us to the local junk food. From time to time another person would come in or leave and we have our fun together.

Sofia, Bulgaria

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It was quite some time before I reached Sofia that the standard churches and museums ceased to move me; once you've seen so many, the novelty wears off. Luckily, there are a few interesting monasteries nearby which bring a flutter of excitement and awe to the jaded traveler. Among these is a beautiful complex of monasteries atop a nearby mountain. I'd be damned if I could remember the name, but if you're in the area, you really can't miss it. Its been rumored that these monasteries will house the weary traveler for a night or two; I haven't tested this personally, but if true, I can hardly think of a more picturesque place to spend the night.

It was here, in full view of mount nameless that I had my introduction to both the best and worst and Bulgarian cuisine. One of the more traditional starters in Bulgaria, and allegedly an excellent hangover cure, is the local tripe soup. The curvilinearly timid would be put off by the name alone. A few of my travel companions were not dissuaded and gave the dish a try; neither finished. The best description I can muster is of a thin filmy-oily looking gruel with chunks of tripe which have a texture akin to mushrooms and the flavor of a ranch. Why anyone would spend the time to prepare such a dish and then actually consume it is beyond me. My guess is that this is a relic from the times when people had to use every last part of the animal, and were either not very creative, or didn't think to simply give the scraps to the dog. Luckily, the best of Bulgarian cuisine is delicious enough to make up for such heinous crimes against food. It is some kind of thick cream drizzled with just a bit of honey; beautiful in it's simplicity.

As with any place, once you've had your fill of the mountains, monasteries and tasty desserts, it's time to hit the town. Through some strange stroke of luck I fell in with a few familiar faces and some locals who were more that willing to show us around to all the best places in town. For a good night about town I would highly recommend starting in the Ale House, a place where you pour your own beer off a metered tap right next to your table. They also serve decent food, and on select nights have some hot talent light up the stage. Once you've had your fill, you can wonder off to one of many themed clubs, but I would personally recommend something entirely different; Karaoke Bar. I don't know how this evolved , but the Bulgarians are way into Karaoke. The routines are polished, the vocals are on key, and everyone has their song; I have never seen Karaoke done so well. If you have the stones, and you think you have the talent, there may be no better place to sing amongst the very best.

Up next Macedonia.

Veliko Tirnovo, Bulgaria

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What can one say of Veliko Tirnovo? It was the old capital of the region before Bulgaria was formed, is where Christianity was translated into Cyrillic, has a nice fortress and a large park. There is one main street where most shops of interest can be found, and a university hidden somewhere in the park. It's small and picturesque. That about covers it.

This is not to say one cannot have fun here, but much of it will depend on the company you find. Luckily, I was fortunate to meet a few interesting people while staying at the local hostel. This first meeting was as strange as one could ask for, a communal haircut.

It was over lentil soup and beers that we decided that the girl who had the same haircut since time before time was to get a new style, and that we were to do it with a pair of dull scissors and a trimmer. Surprisingly, it was a significant improvement over the original hairstyle.

Once the haircut was done and out of the way with, we were free to wonder about the city and enjoy the sights, and then enjoy them again after a blizzard covered everything in fresh snow. We were all snowed in for a day or two,but one can certainly think of worse places for such things to happen.

Once the snow had melted, I decided to continue my journey heading west towards the new capital; Sofia.

Bucharest, Romania

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Romania is a country that you need to break into. I say this, because at first impression I was going to award it the "shit-hole of eastern Europe" award.
I'll grant you, my overall experience in Romania was pleasant, but the introduction was as bad as one can get in these parts. The journey starts with a train ride from Belgrade to Bucharest. The travel time is roughly twice as long as it rightfully should be. Throughout this journey, I begin to understand why. We begin by travelling at a speed akin to a brisk jog, and stop at every random nowhere location in the surrounding area. Eventually the driver gets his head on straight and starts heading east at a reasonable pace.

We arrive at the Romanian border crossing. The train stops and the passport is taken, not to be seen again for some time. In the meantime, officials board the train with power tools and proceed to disassemble the train; removing walls, seats, and heating fixtures. After these pleasantries, my passport is returned and we are on our way at great speed in the dead of night. Just when I begin to think I might freeze to death, the heating is turned on to "blistering" and I resort to switching from seat to seat to sleep on the cooler of the two for an hour or two before switching.

Sometime during one of these switches, I am situated across from my bad, opposed to under it. Despite being locked and positioned in a relatively inconvenient way, a gipsy manages to burn a hole through one of the compartments and relieve me of my Swiss army knife, and 130 euro stashed within it's leather case. I wake up part way through but do not catch him doing this. My bag appears unmolested at a glance so I give this man the benefit of the doubt and regard him as a fellow traveller. After having robbed me in my sleep, he proceeds to steer the conversation towards asking me for money and cigarettes. It is only after I bid this man farewell that I discover my missing belongings and begin to fantasize about stabbing the man in the eye with my pen.

Having finally arrived, I leave the train to wonder through the streets of Bucharest with a somewhat lighter backpack. It is 6am, cold, dark, and covered with graffiti and dog shit. I begin to question ever coming to this god forsaken hole.

After an hour's worth of aimless wondering I arrive at my hostel and am greeted by a girl absent-mindedly blowing bubbles in the court-yard. My disposition improves as I check in, have breakfast, and borrow a sewing-kit and some super-glue to fix my bag.

A few days later the weather improves and I begin to tour the city in earnest. I begin by travelling a couple hours north to go to a mountain top to gaze at a natural monument dubbed Babele. It is a formation of rocks etched by the wind. It's pretty, but very cold.

Next day in the main city, I visit an outdoor museum of old Romanian houses, which makes for a pleasant walk, but little else. We leave and head down the central Parisian board-walk where we stumble across a local organic market where we browse the goods, sample the local delicacies and have lunch with a few locals. It is at this market that I discover Bucharest is hosting several film festivals over the weekend and decide to see a series of animated shorts that evening. They exceed all expectations. The strangest of these films is "The External World". It is a depiction of the most horrible screwed up things, yet you cannot help but laugh. There was also a nice children's story called "The Gruffalo", a silly animated short called "Mobile", a touching story about "The Little Boy and the Beast", and a twisted short called "Pivot".

Upon my return the the hostel, I find one of my hostel-mates is going to head out to see some Dutch DJ who's performing tonight. With a little convincing, I head out with him. On the way he tells me the DJ's name is Armin Van Buuren, and that he has been recently crowned the number 1 DJ in the world. We get to the venue and pay the laughable sum of $25 to get in. We buy drink tickets and proceed to have the most amazing time listening to music till dawn. I arrive back at the hostel around 7am and sleep.

Next day, I randomly decide to go to Tirnovo Bulgaria on a random recommendation from the hostel manager. Her mother is travelling to Istanbul on the same bus as me that day, and so, we ride together.

Belgrade, Serbia

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Ah Belgrade. This is truly a city that grows on you.

Looking back on it now, I cannot really say why it was this city irked me so at first, but if I were to guess it would be because it seems to have no inherit order to it's madness, the transportation system is a joke at best, service at restaurants is an unheard of concept, and if you look around you will likely find buildings that look like they were bombed yesterday. If you power through and persevere despite all that, you will find Belgrade to be an amazing city with a lot to offer if you simply look past the usual places.

The usual places are the museums, churches, markets, and tours. Yes, some are passable here, and you may even have fun, but they hardly scratch the surface and when compared to other European cities in this light, Belgrade comes out far behind. What you must do is ask "where do you go on a Friday night?" One answer was Bigz.

Bigz is an old publishing house that has been abandoned during the war and recently turned to a squat. From the outside, it is as dilapidated a building as you are likely to come across. The inside does little to sway your impression as most lights, toilets and elevators have either stopped working or were looted some time ago. Several small clubs and businesses decided to set up shop here and maintain a sort of unofficial headquarters. One such business is a jazz club on the top floor of the southern building. Despite the shabby surroundings (or perhaps because of them), this jazz club has become a favourite underground spot for people to come, hang out and listen to great music.

Another favorite is the cultural centre, which has taken residence under a bridge across the street from a biker bar. Here people gather for events as diverse as a Japanese Udon night, or an electronic music concert by Glass Candy.

Lastly, there is the Tri Ladjara, a Jazz club in the new part of town, where the average attendant is either in their 70's or in their 20's. Here these two demographics come together every Tuesday to appreciate good Jazz music played by those who volunteer their time and skills for their love of this music.

There is one more place, a student pub named KST. I was told this would be a fun place to go, but I simply did not have enough time.

Should you find yourself with time to spare during the day, I would highly recommend going to the Kalemegdan castle at the park in the middle of the city, checking out the view at the naked statue there, visiting the Tasmajdan park for a local festival market, and going to the Tesla museum.

Budapest, Hungary

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Terror House Album

This city has so many fun things to do, a single post would not do it justice. Still, I must try.

There are a few things one needs to know about Budapest, most importantly, it's pronounced Buddah-Pesht, and is actually two parts named Buddah and Pesht. Most of the good stuff is on the Pesht side, including the big bath house at the park on the north-east side of the city; it is amazing and a must see. You should also try Langos while here (pronounced Lan-goush), it is essentially deep fried bread with cream and meat. Your health will suffer but your taste buds will rejoice in the ensuing deliciousness.

These must-see attractions aside, the city in general is very beautiful; it is very easy to simply spend days walking around enjoying the sights both day and night. My favourite random sight has got to be the parliament building by the river at night. They light up the night sky, and sea birds flying overhead appear like fireflies circling the rooftops.

The night life too is amazing, as the city is home to many "ruin-bars"; pubs constructed inside of abandoned building and decorated by artists to various themes. In addition to these, a group of hostels within the city has taken it upon themselves to organize nightly group events such as dress-up parties, boat cruises, and bar-hopping nights to ensure there is never a dull moment.

One such organized event was the caving tour in the north-west side of Buddah which takes you deep underground to crawl through one of the largest tunnel systems in Hungary. It is a fun experience, and gives you a strange appreciation for coal miners.

Lastly, there are a great number of museums in Budapest worth visiting. Paramount among these is the "Terror House"; a museum built inside of an old police station dedicated to the horrors that took place under the Nazi and Soviet regimes in Hungary. It is a very dark and twisted museum, better reserved for a cold rainy day.

Munich, Germany

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Ah Munich, has there ever been a city more fond of it's beer? Probably; but few drink it as enthusiastically and with as much style. It should go without saying at if you should find yourself in Munich at the end of September, you are obligated to attend Oktoberfest.

Historically, this festival is a king's wedding party which got out of hand and somehow endured to this day. It was at some point held in October, but moved earlier in the year to take advantage of the good weather. The beer stein is 1L and will cost you roughly 10 euro including tip.

The trickiest part in all this is getting involved in the festival. It is free to enter, and you must acquire a seat before you can be served any beer. To obtain a seat, you can go one of a few routes: you can come in at opening and secure a table having others join you, or come in later and join others, or join a tour group and have them figure it out for you. All work quite well so long as you're adventurous enough.

The best beer around is known as Augustiner Brau, though the others are just as delicious. I would recommend trying the Hefeweizen as well. Whichever beer you drink, take care to moderate yourself, as German beer is exceptionally strong and surprisingly smooth. Note that it is brewed at an even higher alcohol percentage for the festival.

If you've had enough of the festival but are still in the mood for beer, venture to any of the local beer halls. They are significantly cheaper and are a nice way to experience the usual beer culture outside of the festival.

At some point, you may find yourself sober enough to realize there is more to the city than the festival and the beer halls. At such a time I would recommend taking any of the tours that are running in Munich, or simply wonder around. There is a great deal of history here, as well as some impressive architecture and interesting museums.

If you truly have a good deal of time to spend, go to the Deutsches museum. It is without a doubt the largest and most impressive museum I've been to. You can spend a day here from opening to closing visiting the exhibits at a brisk pace, and still not see everything.

Nuremberg, Germany

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I arrive in Nuremberg to meet with a Russian-Jewish girl I was introduced to via CouchSurfing. She is to be my host in Munich, but has invited me to first attend a Russian music festival in the forests near Nuremberg. I decide it is a neat idea and join her. We meet at the train station and we drive on to the festival.

We arrive late, eat a bit in a communal hall, set up some tents, and sit by the fire to the early hours of the morning singing Russian folk songs. It is the first, and likely last time I will use my sleeping bad on this trip, as the night is cold and the sleeping bag provides little to no warmth.

I wake up at an ungodly early hour, build up the fire again and wait for dawn. We have a communal breakfast, and head out as a group to tour the surrounding forests. We get lost a few times, stumble across an old cemetery, a small castle, and a vast corn-field. All in all a good day out.

Once the festival is over we head out to the castle stumbled upon earlier and take a tour inside. The main thing to strike me is the absurd number of deer heads that decorate the main hall.

Having finished with Nuremberg we begin our drive to Munich.

Frankfurt, Germany

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After examining train schedules and prices I decide that train tickets in Western Europe are for chumps and that no person would rightfully pay for one. Luckily, an alternative presents itself in the form of a ride-share. And so I begin my journey by piling into a car with 4 other people going from Amsterdam to Frankfurt.

The journey is pleasant enough albeit a little cramped, and my travel mates are pleasant and interesting. There is a a couple traveling around Europe, a very tall Dane, and a driver trying to get a license for a cab.

Having arrived in Frankfurt I am reminded of my other realization, that hostels in certain parts of Western Europe are kind of pricey. It is here that I have my first CouchSurfing experience with a Russian-Jewish linguist named David. We proceed to drink whiskey while discussing life and languages in partially broken Hebrew. I settle into my designated couch, and awaken the next day to tour Frankfurt.

Frankfurt is a city split in two, with a very organized looking metal and glass city center, bordering a cobble stone old city market. I find both enjoyable enough as I wonder about the city taking in the sights. The glass and steel areas are very clean and creatively designed, and the cobble-stone sections resemble the picturesque parts of Europe one has come to expect. I am especially taken with the city mall structure which looks as if it were sucked into a wormhole.

The one other memory that strikes me in Frankfurt is that of an Ethiopian restaurant I dined in right before my train to Nuremberg was to depart. It was housed in a commercial unit like any other, but was set up to look like the inside of a big tent and had sand in place of a floor.

Amsterdam, Netherlands

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And so I land in Amsterdam.
The flight was long, the in flight movies were mildly entertaining, and the food was passable. Now the real fun begins.

As I go through the usual airport routine, I am surprised to learn that one may only stay a maximum of three months in Europe without a special visa. I am surprised at this undue restriction on people who come to spend all their money, but shrug it off, thinking it's not likely to be much of a problem.
In contrast to the above, I am pleased to find I am treated in a relatively humane manner when making my way through the airport. I am not interrogated by customs, and do not have to strip naked for the amusement of those running the x-ray machines. Must be a European thing.
Lastly, as I make my way towards the city center I am pleased to find the detailed and efficient underground system Europe is famous for, and prepaid SIM cards available for cash.

Brimming with a positive outlook, I board the train and make my way towards my hostel. As with any good journey, I begin by getting completely lost. I wonder the city for hours without a proper map, a smart-phone who's GPS system refuses to work properly, and a poor sense of direction. A few hours and couple vague directions later, I arrive, check in, and drop off my things.

Freed from the tyranny of my backpack, I decide to take to the city yet again. I bump into an interesting Armenian fellow who's been traveling the middle east for three months, and we become fast friends. We tour the city at night, grab a bite to eat, and turn in.

First morning on a new continent, and I am up hours before anyone else. Naturally, I make my way to the common area and kill some time. Hours later, breakfast is served and a few people stumble in from their beds. I grab some food, meet a few people, and head out to see the city by daylight.

I decide to buy a 24 hour pass to the city's attractions with the Armenian, and proceed to the Van Gogh museum. I'm especially impressed by the self portraits and enjoy seeing the originals of the famous works. Starry Night and The Scream are surprisingly absent, but otherwise, a good morning out.

We grab some food, and wonder about some more. We decide to take a bout tour of the city and I fall asleep almost immediately. I am told I did not snore, but rather laid back in my seat with my mouth agape.

The sun is now going down, and we decide it's time to tour the red light district. Surprisingly, we do not find it, despite wondering around for hours.

Following day I wonder about some more and find a lovely park on the outskirts. I join a free guided tour and leave about half-way through to catch a ride to Frankfurt.

Vancouver, Canada

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September 19th marks my last day in Vancouver BC. The sun in shining, and the weather is beautiful, but I am leaving all the same. At times I wonder why, and then I remember that I am off to see the world.

So here I sit, packing away as few items as I dare, though undoubtedly more than I'm likely to need; checking my passports and counting foreign currency. I take a last look at my home, knowing that I shall not see it again for a long time and shoulder my bag.

So long Vancouver, see you on the other side.