isle of skye coffee...

A list of things I really really love about Scotland:

Sheep
Hills
Moss
Fairies that look like ordinary bugs
Scones
People
Trees
Water
Cheese
Yogurt
Stories
Welcoming hostels
Fish & chips
The man and woman at who worked at the hostel we stayed at who I secretly watched make out from my window one night
The couple from Spain who were so sweet and wonderful, and who said “bye” to us on the day we were leaving without being told we were leaving

A things of things that I did not so much like about Scotland:

The smell of cup-o-noodles and hot sauce in the hostel
Beer
Sandwiches from grocery stores
COFFEE

Mostly I just did not enjoy the coffee offerings in the Isle of Skye. The coffee in Edinburgh was fine.

We when we ventured to the beautiful Isle of Skye we retained our enthusiasm for coffee in the morning. Jennifer had done some investigating the night we arrived and discovered that the coffee the hostel “provides” is instant coffee, so we immediately decided that we had to go elsewhere. The next morning we did go elsewhere, and I watched Jennifer go into a small house named “Harry’s” that was actually a store and I peered in the door as she approached the woman behind the counter and ordered a coffee. I watched the woman pick up an ancient pot of coffee and pour it into a cup, and I bolted. I began walking down the street and told Allison where I was going and she followed, because she wanted to buy postcards.

When we arrived at the King’s something or other restaurant I went into the food line and confidently approached the cashier and ordered a cappuccino. I smiled as I thought about how triumphant I was, choosing to be intentional about my coffee purchases. I was awoken from my daydream by the sound of a machine beginning to whir next to the cashier and saw her placing a cup under a nozzle and a grayish white liquid began pouring, FAST, into my cup. Before I could stop her, she was asking me if I wanted chocolate on the top. I said yes. She shook a generous amount of chocolate on the top of it and I gave her a pound fifty and walked away, defeated, into the most beautiful place I have ever been.

An open letter to the beer of Scotland,

I was very excited to drink you. Somewhere along the way I had built up the idea in my mind that beer in Scotland would be like the beer in Belgium: cold, bubbly, many many choices and hip glasses to drink the beer out of.

When I ordered my first Scottish beer (Carlsberg, perhaps?) my heart split in two. Slowly. What was this warm, smooth sap that was flowing down my palette? Was this beer or warm water? This certainly was not BIER and not even high life.

I don’t mean to generalize, beer of Scotland, because maybe it is just the beer in Edinburgh that is boring, warm and tasteless. Perhaps the beer in other parts of Scotland is COLD, REFRESHING, HINTS OF DIFFERENT FLAVORS AND UNDERTONES of whatever it is made of. I hope I am wrong.

I have to admit, that if I had drank you, beer of Scotland, before the BIER in Gent, Bruges or even Amsterdam, I may not have been so snotty about it. Maybe the bar was just set too high, and maybe that is not fair.

The one question in my mind that still remains is, why warm? Why not cold? Why do I have to be forced to order a SAN MIGUEL (from Mexico? Spain? Portugal? Who knows!) in order to have a beer that satisfies and does not turn my stomach? I was forced to compromise my values around drinking local beer, wherever I am. No to Carlsberg (brewed in Edinburgh) and yes to San Miguel, brewed who knows where.

As we head toward the Isle of Skye, beer of Scotland, I am going to give you one more chance. I am crossing my fingers that there are some choices other than Strongbow (a cider! The cider was warm too!), Carlsberg, Carlsberg export (supposedly “stronger”), Guiness or Guiness EXTRA COLD??!!! There is no such thing as extra cold in you.

I am not bitter, but I wish you were.
Cheers,
Pam

we heart scotland

Goodbye Amsterdam and a big hello to Edinburgh, Scotland.. We arrived at 5:55 pm so we had actually lost a measly 10 minutes traveling by plane. Sweet! I knew right away that Scotland was a place my heart would feel happy. I knew this because I didn’t have to pay to use the WC- relieving myself for free always makes me happy. I bought a cup of coffee and relaxed while Allison and Pam asked all the right questions to get us headed in the proper direction of our Hostel . We were told it would be a quick walk from the bus stop to the Hostel on a hill. Turns out quick walks are made a bit longer when one is carrying an extra 15 kilos on their back; regardless, we made it to the castle and we knew that our hostel wasn’t far. We continued up the hill and saw our temporary home. We zipped in and checked in while simultaneously being checked out by the guy behind the counter. Who was able to give us great tips on where to get fish and chips…. He suggested “anywhere” yea, thanks buddy. Throwing off our packs allowed us to venture out and find our fist Scottish beer and meal. We were happy with the first place we found but things got a little rocky once we sat down. Beer in the form of cider was placed on our table, Guinness was handed out with smiles to those around us but strangely was not available when ordered from our table. We took it all in stride, barely flinching, and ordered our food. Allison and Pam ordered the much anticipated fish and chips while I went for the curry vegetables (a daring choice once I remembered I was in a pub). Fortunately, I didn’t have to live with the consequences of eating curry from a beer joint, because we were soon informed that they were fresh out of fish and chips. We guzzled our beers and cider as quickly as possible and moved on since we had been informed that food stopped being served after 9ish. We moved down a few bars and found a place that not only had a flowing spout of Guinness but a large supply of fish and chips ready for the taking. I learned from the last scary decision and went with the vegetarian haggis after being told it tasted just like the real thing. I was sure if that was a good or bad thing since I had never had sheep brain before but was feeling brave after the last beer . Food came and it was enjoyed by all, turns out sheep brains taste a lot like mushroom and pine nut pilaf. Good food and good beer/scotch/whiskey led to a good nights sleep in our hostel by the castle.

father of jochem

So, after spending approximately 15 hours in Amsterdam (half of them sleeping), we decided to take refuge in a smaller, much less touristy, “suburb” called Haarlem. As we learned from Rick (Steeves, our portable travel guide - don’t judge us), Harlem, NY was named after this town, as New York used to be named New Amsterdam. Fascinating. The train ride over was filled with lots historical relics and free range farming (Dutch cows and sheep don’t need fences) surrounded by moats, all of which we did not realize until the ride back. Once arriving in Haarlem, we wandered pretty aimlessly (not unusual for us), searching for something great, like an outside market. We found a park and canal and then decided to go back towards the train station where we decided that, before progressing any further, koffe was a must. Luckily we found a cute café sitting directly across from a very large construction site, so we could enjoy the smell of exhaust while sipping our treats. As we were sitting there, sipping and discussing nougats, an older looking gent approached me from the side. I cant remember exactly what he said first, but he went on to comment on how skinny I was and I must need some apple pie. I said, “okay, sure.” He appeared to be pretty excited to take me up on the offer and quickly skipped inside to purchase a couple slices of pie. We proceeded to discuss topics such as his philosophy of square head, round heads, and oval heads. It’s too deep to explain here. Also, talked of politics, Holland, desserts, things to see & do in Haarlem, and mostly family. He expressed much joy over hearing that I have a 2 year-old. He told us all about his son,
Jochem, who is now 17. All of his other children are in their forties. From then on, he referred to himself as father of Jochem, and before parting ways, he made sure to leave all relevant contact info with us, including his address, phone number, email address (that he said he never checks), and names of all his children. He really enjoys having young people visit him. In Zeist, Holland…anyone interested?

…I’ve decided to continue looking skinny to encourage more free food (and nice chats with random kind people).

Also, in Haarlem we enjoyed these things:

Buying LOADS of delicious, local cheeses at a cheese shop from a kind young man who let us taste as many as we wanted
Unintentionally enjoying an afternoon snack and drink at Holland’s #2 top rated pub in 2008
Trying on boots in various stores, including giant wooden shoes
Shopping for random grocery items with labels in Dutch
Getting laughed at for almost breaking a fancy child bike seat
Not seeing crowds of drunk, stoned, crazy boys stumbling around
Walking on brick streets among very old buildings
Pam whispering “hunger winter” anytime we saw an short elderly person

dear amsterdam

Dear Amsterdam,

If we were three 22 year old Spanish dudes, we would have hopped onto the tram heading toward Dam square, taken a pee outside in the outdoor urinal (men only) and found the closest bar possible to get drunk and head off to the red light district. We would have really whooped it up, and we may have met some greek dudes and become buddies with them and gallivanted around the city together, drunk stoned and excited to be alive.

Since we are not 22 year old Spanish or Greek dudes, we had a far different experience. The train station in Amsterdam is one of the most chaotic and confusing places we have ever been. With very heavy packs on, it was pretty stressful to try to find change to pay to go to the bathroom and then squeeze past the gate to the bathroom and somehow go pee with a large pack on. Some of us got wedged in our bathroom stalls. Some of us could not find out way our of the bathroom.

Once we figured out how to exit the bathroom and the train station, we waited in a long line for 48 hour tickets for the tram. This is the greatest gift we could have ever given ourselves, Amsterdam, because the tram is really the only way to go from one end of the city to the other without wandering aimlessly behind drunk Spanish dudes and hundreds and hundreds of tourists from all over the world.

The thing is, Amsterdam, your city is teeming with history. Your canals are beautiful (the water is stank) and even though many of the buildings lining the canals are sinking, we think the architecture is beautiful. Personally, I enjoyed buying Heineken from the store and taking it with me on the boat tour where we learned a lot about the city, including how much litter people put INSIDE OF THE CANALS while they are on boat tours.

We walked your streets, got lost, saw the sights, teared up a bit in the Anne Frank HUIS and were well informed at the Van Gogh museum. There was a tender moment in Dam square (our least favorite place) when a white guy (Canadian? American?) with a guitar played “Wish you were here” and sang into a microphone and a swaying crowd gathered around him as the sun set behind the Madame Tussaud wax museum, but then he began singing a song by the band “Bush” and lost our attention, just like you did Amsterdam, when you really laid it out straight for us and we still had no idea.

We admire your progressive approach to marijuana and sex work, but the bottom line is that you, ciudad de Amsterdam, were a lot to handle in two days. We may never come back, but if we do, I only hope it is in our next life when we are reborn as three teenagers from Grenada just looking for a crazy weekend away from home.

Love,
Pam, Allison and Jennifer

through antwerpen to amsterdam

We said goodbye to our friends on Sunday morning and got on the train to Anterwep and Amnsterdam. We got off a bit too soon in Antwerp and had to get on another train to Anterwep central. Antwerp train station = best train station we have been in thus far. Big, red, old and “reminds me of how enormous & awesome the train station in Milan is” says Allison.

When we got to Antwerp central, we bought:

1 chocolate covered waffle
1 “big” order of FRITES with andalouse sauce (some kind of spicey mayo)

AND I FEEL SICK. More updates once we hang out in Amsterdam. Hopefully RAMON has wireless internet and a barf bag.

bruges and brugge

We got back to the house that night and T was amped. C was sick, and was in the bathroom. I can’t remember what Allison and J were doing. (a: we were talking to a VERY cute, sleepy ari on skype!!! we miss you, ari) T pulled out an plastic tennis racket and told me to touch it. I told him I did not want to, but he insisted. When I refused again, he touched it (pincher grasp) and shocked himself and yelled a little. I said, WTF and he said it was for killing bugs. He told me to touch it a few more times, and I did. IT HURT. But did not touch it with my tongue, like my other Portland buddies did months and months previously.

The next day, we woke up at 1pm after going to sleep at 6. We were planning on going to Bruges that day, and got a very late start but got on the train and made it to Bruges by 4:30.

T had told us that Bruges is a touristy FAIRYLAND full of big, really really old buildings and swans and horses. Bruges was intense. There were tons and tons of tourists and it was fairly comfortable speaking English there because so many different people visit the city. A few highlights of Bruges were:

The market and the boots both Jennifer and I scored. Allison found very cute shoes for Ari.

The playground we stumbled upon in the park, which was the best playground we had ever seen and had a tunnel slide that was very long and steep.

Swans and horses.

Eating FRITES in the center of Bruges at night.

the white cat & the flamingo...

On Saturday night, T, C, J, A and I went out and did a little bit of bar hopping. Allison met us fresh from a psychology conference (3 course) fancy dinner at the monestary, a boat and waking tour of the city. We were sitting outside a bar near the canal, and the server upset T because he accused him of using an improper term in dutch OF WHICH T DID NOT DO!!!! We left that bar and went to the White Cat, a bar where people actually sit AT a bar. Something I did not think about at the time, but was that very few people actually sit at the bar. (a: since there apparently are none in gent, according to T & C). Tom was super excited about this. So we had our bar sitting experience and I think this is when things got weird. I got drunk, and I think T and C might have as well. C and A chatted with some Belgian guys and T and I gossiped about the Belgian guys. We had a few drinks at this bar and then headed toward the Flamingo which was a secret (no signs outside) bar with a low ceiling, very, very smoky and dark. In the back room, there was a DJ playing a very interesting array of music ranging from big band to doo wap to hip hop and some light favorites. All of us eventually made our way into this back room to dance (a: Jennifer took a little while. courtney and i wasted no time - we were ready for some dancing). T somehow scored some free drink tickets and told me to go to the bar with him so we could “buy the ladies something to drink”. Champagne.

Can’t remember much, but Allison was hit on by a Belgian woman. (a: apparently, she liked my dancing b/c she said, "your dancing is hot. i just want to dance next to you." then, she introduced me to her very tall friend who had previously touched my shoulder and then said something (that i didn't understand) and said, "oh, i thought you were someone else." nice.)

We danced a lot and it was hot and smoky and sweaty. A few times I looked up and realized I was at the center of a dancing circle and quickly danced out of it, confused and flattered. We stayed at the white cat for quite a while , until 5am. The rest of the evening the following events may or may not have happened in the following manner:

I tried to leave the bar with my beer, and the bouncer crossed his arms as he saw me approaching and told me I could not leave the bar with my beer. I did not realize I had it! I put it down and it tipped over, spilling a little bit on the floor.

Courtney spoke sternly to someone, either the bouncer or a guy that followed us out of the bar and gave her her sweater. She may have told him he was creepy, and he may have said, “I was just waiting for my friend”

We tried to get a cab ride back to the house, but two cab drivers in a row denied us because there were 5 of us. Too many. T tried really hard to negotiate, and became upset. When we finally got a cab driver that let us all in the car, he may have told the cab driver that all of the other cab drivers in the city were *explicative*.. Allison may have simultaneously held her hand over Tom’s mouth and used her other hand to hold up Courtney’s sleeping head in the front seat.

There is more.

belgian people dress well!

One thing about the Belgian folks in Gent, mostly college students and babies, is that they are dressed very well. We liked this. Shoes are very expensive, and all of the ladies wore scarves, skirts, dresses and boots. The guys were all pretty nondescript.

we put 2 full biers in a garbage can

Jennifer and I went grocery shopping in a fancy little grocery store. We now know that most of what we bought was overpriced (3 euros for a small jar of tomato sauce?) but it was fun and we looked at lots and lots of cheese and bread and were very happy and confused the entire time. So many cheeses.

We went back to the house later and J, Tom and I sat outside in C and T’s beautiful terrace and drank Jupiler bier and talked about anxiety disorders. T also told us about his old man French neighbor, and I think it was the best story I heard on our trip thus far. After dinner, we left to meet Allison near the canal that we met T at the first day. T reminded J and I that we could bring our bier with us, because walking around with bier in the city is okay. We happily left the house with our full, cold bier and walked toward the tram stop. And T broke into a full on sprint once he saw the tram approaching and we ran after him, clumsily, but we ran. We turned the corner to get on the tram, and I saw J putting her beer in a garbage can. I assumed we were doing this because it was not allowed on the tram, so I copied her. Once we got on the tram, T was abashed and asked us why we put full bier into the garbage. J said that she had seen him do it and he said he had finished his and thrown it away. He also told us that people on the tram were staring at us as we fumbled around with our beers in the garbage can, and he sad he was sure the tram driver was going to close the doors and leave without us. As I had boarded the tram, I heard some teenager say something about “international”

...you'll notice that there is no picture to accompany this post due to a lack in artsy photos taken of fancy biers and buses.

stolen broodjes and chacos

That night I got drunk and we took a night time walk around Gent, which was so beautifully lit and amazing. The buildings are all lit up and it was like walking around in a medieval town with lots of beer and people ignoring us.

The next day we woke up, ate bread and cheese and went back to the University. Allison assured us that she could get us lunch from the university cafeteria, so we sent her in to check it out. She took a BIT too long and we were getting antsy. And then we saw her appear on the other side of the building we were sitting outside of, looking coy. We asked her why she had taken so long and why she had exited the building in a different place than we had planned. She sushed us and then muttered under her breath, that she had gotten us lunch. In Belgium, lots of cafes and little stores sell a sandwich called Broodjes (I think) and they are mini baguettes that usually have egg and cheese and a meat or cucumbers or tomatoes. So she had stolen us three sandwiches from the cafeteria even though they told her only to take one. Allison had to leave the building in a different spot so that no one saw her leave with more sandwiches than she was allowed to have.

Eating on a bench in the park = getting stared at
(or maybe it was our chacos)

kaas & belgian beer

I demanded to sleep on the stage I was sitting on at the university, but Jennifer jerked me upright and told me it was not appropriate. Several times. I demanded to go outside and sleep in the grass. And that is what I did. Jennifer and I went outside while Allison waited for her conference buddy from the U.S. I slept in the grass and regained 30 minutes of my life.

Later that night, we met up with Tom on the canal waterfront cobblestone lounging area place where there are a ton of cafes and bars and tables with chairs and in the sunshine people sit and drink and smoke and talk and students sit near the edge of the canal and drink beers and talk intimately with one another. They all look kind of serious, all of the time.

a: Tom says that Belgian people are all "sunshine & rainbows"...he was kidding, but they all seemed pretty happy to me, biking around on cobblestone streets with their little baby seats in front.

The beer in Belgium is great. Most of it is very strong, and it tastes really good. We had beers with Tom and his Canadian friend who has been living in Gent for 13 years and Courtney joined later. At this point I think I was the most alert I had been since leaving Portland. The beer was just enough of a lubricant that I could not tell the difference between the buzz and the fatigue.

After spending some time at a table in front of a café outdoors, we went to a bar I can’t recall the name of. We walked down a dark alley to get to it, and it was dimly lit inside and full of whispering Belgians. We talked with Tom, Gab and Courtney extensively about Belgium and the people there. Allison said she was hungry and wanted food, and we discovered she could get bread and cheese. Tom and Dab told her how to order bread and cheese in Dutch, and she deliriously went to order from the bartender.

a: "kaas, alstublieft" (there was more, but i don't remember now...p.s. she was very nice, too)

And, she got the food. She was spoken back to in Dutch, and this was shocking to the group because often when Americans speak to the Belgians in Dutch, they are spoken back to in English, like a funny little language game.

A stack of cheese, bread with tomato sauce (or something) poured over it. This is what she got, no one had ever seen it before, and it was GOOD.

Delirium tremens, my favorite beer I drank in Belgium. Thanks, Tom-o.

lamb burgers

So we chatted with C a bit and looked at some maps and she told us not to sleep until 9pm that night. I think it was around 11:30 in the morning at the time. Some of us showered and then we decided to walk over to the University of Gent where Allison was going to be doing a poster presentation later on for the conference that started this entire trip.

We rode the tram, fumbled with euros and found our way to the University. My memory is spotty at this point because I was so effing tired. I am not sure what we did at the University, but I think we hung Allison’s poster and then walked around a bit. Blank space in my recollection.

Jennifer and I had our first FOOD in Belgium. We ordered tofu burger and coffee and beer and cigarettes. We sat outside of a little café and ate our food. We’re no entirely sure that what we ate was tofu. Could have been lamb. But it tasted good. I had two beers and then began to feel weird. I tried to tip the server because I had no idea whether to do this or not, and we had a very uncomfortable exchange before I ended up giving him 4 euro and regretted it later when T told me that generally, tipping does not happen.

We left the café after eating and walked back to the University, where we found Allison with crazy eyes, standing next to her poster. She told us how tired she was and that she thinks she fell asleep during a presentation in a classroom earlier. She offered us more coffee and we tried to drink it. More blank spaces.

ghent and gent

We komen aan Gent

And, success! Not only did we board the correct train, but we also found seats in a very quiet and luxurious section of the train. We giggled and as we stared at the crowded section of the train a few cars down, and remarked about how lucky we were to have found such a spacious part of the train.

The person on the train who comes along to check tickets arrived and we gave him our passes and he punched holes in them.

a: when he was punching our cards, he looked at them and said, "when you see a '1' on the trains, that is first class. you paid for second." he kept on walking afterward, we expressed our shock and gratitude, and took it as meaning the next time we ride a train...and remained seated until our stop.

Our French friend told us that this was not the first time she had made this mistake.

So we arrived in Brussels and there was more confusion about which train to take to Gent, but we figured it out and sat in the proper “class”. The train ride from Brussels to gent was only 30 minutes, so before we knew it we were heaving our packs onto our backs once more and more confusion came about how to get to our friend’s house that we were staying with in Gent. I had directions that Kate had copied from a face book message written down, but we had no idea what we were doing. We walked around the perimeter of the train station a few times before Jennifer confidently decided on a direction to head in.

Walking was difficult. We were sweating, exhausted and confused. We saw bicycles everywhere. Hundreds of bicycles locked to buildings and bicycle parking lots and this was my favorite thing about Gent. People ride bikes everywhere and cars drive fast. It took us a while to find Tom and Courtney’s place but once we did, we were elated.

Courtney, you are awesome. Thanks for letting us in your house. Tommy, you too, buddy.

and it begins...in belgium

so, unanimously, based on her excellent typing skills, pam has been elected as head journalist of this blog. j & a will contribute periodically & use the red pen to edit pam's work. this should be good.

As Allison, Jennifer and I head toward Antwerp and onto Amsterdam, we want to tell some stories of our experiences in Belgium, specifically Gent and Bruges. Unfortunately we did not have our BLOG up and running until our last day in Belgium, but due to our sharp memories, we will be able to share some fun stories like it happened just yesterday.

We arrived in Belgium after a very long flight, for Allison and I, from Portland to DC and then from DC to Brussels. Jennifer flew from Austin to Chicago to Brussels, and we waited for her in the baggage claim of the airport in Brussels. We were delirious but quickly began making fun of one another and laughing at the weight of our packs.

Of course, we befriended a woman our age who we suspect was French. She was just as confused as we were, trying to figure out which train went to Brussels. We stared wide eyed at each other and the other passengers who confidently boarded trains, and finally made a last minute decision to board a train that we hoped was headed toward Brussels.