Amsterdam

Amsterdam is definitely one of those places on everyone's list of places to see; especially before you're 30- Filled with a variety of activities that rivals any crazy fucked up dream you could have, drugs that should be legal in this country, and beautiful girls riding bikes in skirts. I didn't do much in the activities from a crazy fucked up dream category; though our hostel was really close to the red light district.

I met up with a pretty large group of people, some of whom I met previously in Dublin for St. Patricks' Day. I had about a week or so in between Dublin and Amsterdam, so I spent a few days in Manchester, and a few in London, both to which I would return to on the way back to Dublin (I was sort of making a circle).

I arrived in Amsterdam via hitchhiking from Den Haag (The Hague), which is about an hour away. I was told on the ferry over from England to Holland by a guy who was headed back to The Hague that it was an easy way to avoid train fare, and that it was commonplace for young people to hitchhike around. So with Christiaan's advice, I sat out with a homemade sign on the F19 freeway, waiting for about 2 hours. Our ferry had arrived quite early in the morning, (6am), so by the time traffic was picking up, I was set. A young couple picked me up in their faded red VW Polo after seeing the flag on my backpack (an Indian one.) "Thanks for stopping. Ohh wait- do you speak English?" I asked. "Of course my friend," the guy said as he laughed. "Our first Indian hitchhiker! I really can't believe it," the girl said.

I wanted to set them straight before it got confusing-
Me: "Well, to be honest- India is my second home, my motherland. I'm American- but I'm a dual citizen."
the guy: "No problem my friend; as long you did not vote for Bush!"



No problem there; I voted against him twice.

I arrived at my hostel a few hours earlier than my friends, and spent the time wandering around eating a muffin. A definite tourist city, I was shoulder to shoulder with people doing the same. I walked into Dam square as the sunlight hit my face, and saw what many see in big cities- pigeons. I'm not sure if people understand, but pigeons are effing gross. I admit that before someone told me how foul they were I had no issue with them either.



Anyway, Dam square is a central area that is about a 10 minute walk (with a huge backpack) from the Centraal train station, and is one of the first spots people usually hit. One of the great in life for me is people watching. With the early morning sun in my face, and an amazing muffin in hand I was loving watching pretty Dutch girls cycling around, and little kids feed the oh-so gross pigeons with the slight hesitancy that all kids have around animals.

Oh, and about their bicycles. They are serious about bikes. I've never seen a city so full of bikers (and no, I've not been to Portland yet- it's on my list). I started to understand why everyone was so fit- they literally bike everywhere. Cool, except for the fucking cold. But- when you can't bike, you can take the tram or a train somewhere- no problem. So this is how serious the Dutch take their bikes-



Yep, its a bicycle parking garage. How awesome is that?

The people in Amsterdam are very diverse. The Dutch colonized quite a bit, and people from all their former colonies came back to Holland. Some of the best food I had there was at a small Surinamese restaurant that my host, Jannie took me to. I knew little about Suriname, but was intrigued when the man who took our order approached us. I looked up to see a man a little shorter than me, with the most interesting face and overall look I've ever seen in a person. He wasn't Indian, not quite Indonesian, not quite African, just a masala of it all. I talked with Jannie for a bit about what his ancestry might be. Turns out Surinamese people are among the most diverse in the world. There are incredible mixes between Dutch, West African, Indian, Javanese, Chinese, and Native South American tribals in the country.

The amazing food reflects the many cultures present. I had some slow-simmered pork with a Desi-style bread and plain rice. I wish I had taken some photos of the food! This is probably what a typical plate looks like:



I could go on and on about Amsterdam, but you've probably heard about the Heineken factory, the red light district, and smoking pot from someone else already, right?

St. Patricks' Day

This was a while back as well, but it was great time I've never written about. A few days before St.Patricks' Day, I took a flight from Boston to Dublin; my starting point for a 3 month Eurotrip. This was the right flight to be on, to the right place. I don't think I've been on such a fun flight. Aer Lingus from Boston to Dublin, the trans-Atlantic Irish express-



I got seated next two guys who were part of a larger group, and like me were spending the week in Dublin. We drank a few of these on the way, a drop in the bucket compared to what would follow:



Overall, it was the rowdiest flight I've been on. If only the 16 hour flights to India were this much fun...

We cracked jokes and took turns acting out our favorite scenes from "The Big Lebowski" The start of my journey was a great one, and I was in high spirits landing at the airport, and was immediately surprised at how laid back the Irish were- no customs, and only a quick glance at my passport! I took the bus to the city centre and walked to my hostel- literally steps from the Guinness factory!



I was alone for the first day; my friends would meeting me later that night. I spent the day wandering around Dublin, talking to people in the nearby park, and grimacing at the shitty weather that seemed to follow me around. Rain, sleet, a bit of snow, then sunshine... then the cycle repeats.

Initially, I only knew 2 of the 8-9 people I would be spending the next week or so with. My buddy Brendan was studying abroad in France, and I planned to join up with him and his group for some partying. Walking around the first night, the streets were electrified with people and energy. The city felt alive-

We stopped into a pub down a side alley, and had our first Guinness, from the factory only a few minutes away-


Watching someone pour a Guinness the right way is a work of art; it takes time and patience. The cascading black goodness, slowly turning itself from a dark caramel to a distinctly separate black and light cream... I love Guinness so much. Waiting 4 minutes is nothing when I think about how delicious that first sip was. Be careful though- too many one night and you'll look like these guys the next day:



The following day we walked down the road to St. James' gate for a tour of the factory. I was hoping for some free samples, and I was not disappointed. The tour is pretty touristy, but in a good way. There's pretty cool facts about the process of beer-making, and little fun games to play along the way as you drink.



The real treat is the Sky Bar. On the top floor of the factory, a bar was built with a 360° view of Dublin. You can enjoy the free Guinness you get while checking some amazing views of the city.

Berlin

I've spent a fair amount of time in Berlin, probably about 2 weeks spread out over visits. I love the city for so many reasons- the best public transportation in the world, very eclectic mix of people, and fairly inexpensive for a western European city. One of cooler stories I can tell about my travels happened here, so here it is- straight from my journal from 3 years ago...

The Turkish Experience

I've heard some interesting things said about the Turkish people in Germany- some good, some bad- but always interesting. Here's my story:

I went on a pub crawl with a few people from my hostel; which was incredibly fun. The job of the people leading it is to make sure you have blacked out by the time you get back home. They did their job a little too well with me, but I ended up having a great night anyway. At the last stop of the crawl, a few of us separated from the masses and went out for some more boozing- this was a bad idea.



We were befriended by a mad dutchman whose head you sorta see behind the girl. He bought us all beers with money he got when "my muzzah die from too much smoking, I get monies for coming to Deutschland for holidays". Ahh yes, monies indeed. I couldn't stop laughing the whole time, the guy was hilarious. Neither could Manav, a pretty cool Indian guy whom I met on the crawl from New York.



Since we were all headed different directions, I had to get back to my hostel alone. I jumped on a train, after staring at the map for a few minutes- not nearly long enough, because this is what the Berlin subway map looks like:



No, that's not a joke. Its incredibly intricate, and in my inebriated state, was just too much for my senses to understand. I took the right train, in the wrong direction, and ended up in what felt the Czech Republic. I was woken up by the train conductor, who gave me a sympathetic smile when I looked down and saw that I had drooled all over myself. He helped me up as he shook his head and muttered something in German, which translated to as something like "Young, dumb, full of cum". (Yes, its from "Point Break"). I stumbled out and was pointed to the taxis. With no trains headed back to the city, and only a few Euros left in my pocket, I hoped I had enough money to get my within a few kilometers my hostel. My head was spinning and my legs felt weak; and I knew I would yak at any minute. I made my way to the bathroom and let it rip.

Splashing the cold water on my face, I fought the drowsiness that started to take over, slapping myself in the face and "motorboating" my face to try and shake the booze out- it didn't work. I walked out of the bathroom toward the taxi stands where a few drivers stood around smoking. As I made my way, a group of guys were walking towards me, drinking beer out of cans, and laughing in my direction. As they got closer, one of them yelled "Hey India!", noticing the flag on my jacket. I started getting nervous, and thought I was about to get mugged-

I heard some stories about the Turkish being the unsavory type, but I knew opinions of them are probably similar to those of any immigrants like us in Europe or even the States. "No big deal" I thought. "They probably just want to bullshit with me as they're drinking and I'm obviously lost, drunk, and in the middle of nowhere." As we slowly came face to face, I blurted out- "Hey, do you know when the first train runs in the morning?" They took a quick look at me and then started laughing hysterically. I tried to manage a smile, but at the same time stood up tall and tried to play it cool... then I realized that my fly was wide open! I quickly zipped up and started laughing too, and said "where can I get some beer?" "Come with us" one of them said as he continued laughing and slapped me on the shoulder. "We'll find some doner and more beer." Things were starting to look up, and as I approached the silver Audi, they all introduced themselves. Ibrahim, Deniz, and Mohammed took me to a small Kebab joint a few minutes away, and during the ride we talked a bit. I told them about the pub crawl, blacking out on the train, and that I was staying in a hostel in Mitte. "No problem my friend, we take you there" Ibrahim said. "No traffic, no problem. 15 minutes driving" I checked my watch, and it was nearly 3.

After buying my new friends a round of beers, I was broke again. We sat around drinking for a while until our kebabs were ready; about cars, university, politics, and of course women. What else would a bunch of drunk guys at 3am talk about?
For those of you who haven't experienced Döner kebab, its this:



It was probably one of the best meals I've ever had. The guys knew the owner, and we basically ate for free. It was these sorts of moments that I seem to remember better than seeing the Eiffel Tower, or the Canals of Venice. It was a connection to people that in the end left a lasting impression.

Sofia, Bulgaria

I arrived in Sofia (captial of Bulgaria) with good spirits and a new haircut. (For those who have never done it before, shaving your head once in a while is a great experience!)



I had arranged a host through a backpackers' hosting website called "Couchsurfing.com".
My host Nasko was going to meet me at a central landmark. Although it wasn't my first time traveling through an area where I couldn't read the script, Cyrillic felt so frustrating! It was as if I was understand a handful of letters, with the exact wrong meaning behind each one... (Capial "A" means the number "1", Capital "S" is the number "6") There is nothing more pathetic than a backpacker standing around on a corner trying to translate street signs using a Lonely Planet guide... yeesh. Luckily, Nasko had seen a few pictures of me online, and rode by on his bike. So I guess I was closer than I thought. He passed me, whipped his head around to get a look, seemed confused, then turned back. "Are you... the guy?" he said. We took the bus back to his place and had a few beers and talked about Bulgaria, life, and politics.

Later that night after meeting his two roommates, I became 1 of 4 guests crashing at the apartment. It felt a lot like my time in Bombay, where we had a lot of guest coming and going through the place, leaving their impression quickly, but lasting a lot longer. It was a good feeling to be around so many other young people, on the path to... wherever.

Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria

Bulgaria was one of the friendliest countries I've visited. Everyone's experiences are relative, and I just felt like I was there at a good time.

I stayed in the country for about 12 days. Not so much time, but enough to get a small taste of what the place is like. I came into the country via Turkiye, on a train destined for Bucharest (capital of Romania) I stopped in a small called "Veliko Tarnovo", a historical town. It was the capital of Bulgaria during medieval times, and is a known tourist spot for its architecture and beautiful river valley.



I stayed in a backpackers' hostel where I was surrounded by travelers on their way to Bucharest (capital of Romania), Sofia (capital of Bulgaria), and those wanting to get away from cities for a bit. I made friends with 2 dutch girls at the train station, and we all hitched back to the hostel, lugging our packs up the steep path. When we arrived and checked in at the front desk, the rain started to fall, and the 2 girls smiled at me in a way that made me feel like luck was following us around for a bit.

Originally, I only intended to stay for 3 days at the most, but 3 became 4, then 4 became 5. There was one day that really stood out in my memory. A couple of guys from the hostel and I took a trip to a monastery. It was a small place, its back to the cliffs that seem to fall into oblivion.



When I stepped inside, this is what I saw:



The paintings on the wall were of bodies stretched and taut, straining for something. Maybe freedom? The country was ruled by the Ottomans for nearly 500 years, and there was a mood of this feeling in the artwork. All the men were wiry and muscular, as if they had been living a life of hardship the whole time, but it only made them stronger.

Istanbul

Sultanhamet Mosque, aka "Blue Mosque"


Istanbul, not Constantinople- the port of entry for my voyages through Eastern Europe. A city with a history so vast that no amount of Wikipedia-ing could cover. I arrived the last week of August, summers' tail end refusing to release its' grip, warming my toes while I eat dondurma (Turkish ice cream) in the square next to the Blue Mosque. Wandering around the complex, everyone is welcome, Muslim or not. Men arrive exhausted from their days' work, and calmly perform ablutions before entering to pray. I step inside with them, working my way through the heavy cloths that shield the outside light from sneaking in. After a few steps inside, I stop in my tracks and look up to the glorious ceiling and chandelier. It is crowded, and groups of the faithful bow their heads to the ground in unison, a perfect harmony of bodies in motion.




Topkapı Palace

This palace was the residence of the Ottoman Sultans for 400 years. Walking in during the touristic time I did (late August), the palace was packed to the brim with bus loads of Chinese tourists with over-sized hats, Turkish families taking their children there for the first time, and backpackers getting their last days of vacation in before school starts.

As I wandered through the palace grounds, the musty aroma of antiquity tickled my nose, and I could only imagine what it must have been like to be here during times when the palace was fully operational. Servants, Craftsmen, Concubines, Eunuchs, all swirling together in a dance of power.

"Basilica Cistern"


The sun had beaten down on me all morning and afternoon, and August is no month to mess around with in Turkiye when it comes to heat. This cistern built by the Romans is where many go to escape for a while.

Exhausted, I walked through the heavy doors leading to a stairwell that eased my weariness step by step. When I got to the landing, I saw this:



It was so beautiful. This pasted snapshot does no justice. Everything went quiet. All I could hear were footsteps and whispering, even though no one was required to lower their voice. It was as if the atmosphere and lighting demanded it so. I slowly trotted forward, and every few steps I would walk into darkness, not to be seen by my fellow travelers. People fumbled with their cameras as I did, trying to capture it the way they knew was impossible. Many, like me; decided to take a few shots, and just give up. No point in fighting it, just sit down on the cold, ancient stone and relax.