tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32462518854223048802024-02-01T22:55:05.142-08:00Isaac’s “Privateering” Tour BlogIsaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-87547264132843012672013-08-01T00:43:00.001-07:002013-09-10T12:53:33.227-07:00The Last One & Conclusion: San Sebastián to Calella de Palafrugell, Spain (July 31, 2013)<p>No one should be allowed to leave San Sebastián after less than 24 hours; and no tour should be planned so people who follow it are required to stay in San Sebastián less than 24 hours.</p> <p>Woke up at around 8:30am to the sound of the Dutchman’s iPhone‐based alarm clock, playing a song that must not be allowed as a wake‐up alarm anywhere: not even in jail, not even in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Quentin_State_Prison">San Quentin</a>. If there’s one good thing about July 31 being the last day of the tour, is that I will never (hopefully) have to wake up to the sound of that iPhone alarm, ever again in my entire life.</p> <p>(Well, except for Friday, as the Dutchman’s flight home leaves early in the morning.)</p> <p>Went down to the hotel’s ground floor for breakfast, which cost about €11 and was worth incredibly less. Poor selection of… well… nothing interesting. Piled a few pseudo‐edible substances onto a plate and sat down eating while reading the news on my phone. OK, let’s see… the Israeli Parliament just passed a law to give elected governments more power and make it harder to topple them; hello, Mussolini, good to have you back. What else… yeah, another terrorist organization states that they want to kill me because my foreskin was removed when I was eight days old. Gee, thanks mates; wake me up when it’s my turn.</p> <p>Great bunch of news in the morning, isn’t it. I should really stop doing that. I mean, stop reading the news altogether, not only in the mornings.</p> <p>Finished breakfast in just about 15 minutes, up to the room, post‐breakfast morning routine and by 9:20am I was already in the driver’s seat.</p> <p>The sun was shining, everything around was either green or of a colour that fits very well with green. 35 years I’m on this planet, and only now I’m learning about this part of Spain. Better late than never, and hear me when I say, you locals of northern Spain: I <u>will</u> be back.</p> <p>Engine started, GPS started. Itinerary: 661km drive from Urnieta (a suburb of San Sebastián, where last night’s hotel is located) to Llafranc, located in Costa Brava, not far from Calella de Palafrugell.</p> <p>661km with a manual shift. I’m used to travel long distances—may I remind you of the <a href="http://ktgc.isaac.shabtay.com">2008 Kill to Get Crimson tour</a> and the <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com">2010 Get Lucky tour</a>? plus, hey, I live in Canada, and a few times before I drove 600km just for a restaurant—but not in a country where I don’t speak the language, and not with a manual shift. I know how to drive those, but really, I find it too tiring.</p> <p>The southbound ride from San Sebastián is scenic, sifting through green‐covered mountains and valleys, although with much less natural bodies of water as you’re getting further and further from the sea. The drive being scenic, plus the superbly comfortable weather, made that part of the drive a rather easy and enjoyable one. Once you hit <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pamplona">Pamplona</a>, though, the scenery changes dramatically—almost instantly—to a much less pleasant one.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I often use the expression <em>Running of the Bulls</em> to describe fans’ reckless run towards the stage before the encore. The <em>real</em> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Running_of_the_Bulls">Running of the Bulls</a> is a Pamplona tradition. The concept is simple: release six hot‐tempered bulls to run through the streets, and have people run at the same direction that the bulls run—of course, said people would be running <em>in front of the herd</em>; otherwise it wouldn’t be interesting—and see what happens. Injuries are very common (now that’s a shocker), and sometimes (although much less frequently than I’d expect) there are deaths as well (fifteen people died in Pamplona bulls’ runs since 1910).</p> </div> <p>The drive from Pamplona onwards, almost all the way to Costa Brava, was very difficult. Not only the scenery changed so it resembled more of a desert than anything else, but climate also changed to be rather vicious: intense dry heat, so intense that the car’s air conditioner could no longer keep up. For a large part of the ride, it felt less warm to open the windows and turn off the air conditioning, than having the car sealed with the air conditioning turned on full power.</p> <p>Other than stopping for gas once along the way, another 15 minutes break was taken for a quick sandwich in some service station along the way, located, more or less, right in the very center of the middle of absolutely nowhere.</p> <p>Also, this ride was possibly the most expensive car ride I have ever taken in my entire life, toll‐wise: overall, taking toll roads along the way saved about an hour of driving. The cost, altogether (there were five or six toll roads along the way) was—sit tight; that’s going to hurt—more than €50 (that’s about $68 CDN and $66 US). Absolute insanity: I have seen flights that cost less than that, covering greater distances.</p> <p>Having said that, one good word must be said about the actual roads: all roads driven, both toll and toll‐free (but mostly the toll ones), were in fantastic condition. Great infrastructure, good signing and numerous service centers along the way.</p> <p>After many hours of driving, traffic started becoming a bit more crowded approaching Barcelona. Fortunately, there was no need to enter the city itself; instead, took a road north, heading towards Costa Brava. In mid‐day during the working week, traffic there seems to be a breeze.</p> <p>As you approach Costa Brava, the scenery becomes, once again, more and more interesting. The last half hour of driving was slower, and once sifting through the little towns along the coast, driving was even slower than that.</p> <p>Finally, after a really long day of driving, arrived at the destination: <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g635891-d647253-Reviews-Casamar_Hotel-Llafranc_Palafrugell_Costa_Brava_Province_of_Girona_Catalonia.html">Casamar Hotel</a> in Llafranc.</p> <hr /> <p><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Llafranc">Llafranc</a> is a small town, one of three towns belonging to the municipality of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palafrugell">Palafrugell</a> (pronounced <em>pa‐la‐fru‐hey</em>). One of the other two towns in this municipality is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calella_de_Palafrugell">Calella de Palafrugell</a> (<em>Calella</em> is pronounced <em>ka‐le‐ya</em>. Now try pronouncing the full name of <em>Calella de Palafrugell</em> correctly. Do it three times in a row. It’s fun). The latter hosts the annual <em>Cap Roig Festival</em>, featuring Knopfler on its roster for this year.</p> <p>I have never heard of Calella de Palafrugell before in my entire life. I did, however, hear a lot about <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Costa_Brava">Costa Brava</a>. The latter is a world‐class tourism destination, attracting herds over herds of tourists with its beautiful beaches and wild, rugged coastline (<em>Costa Brava</em> in Spanish means <em>Rough Coast</em>).</p> <p>The first time I became aware of Calella de Palafrugell was when details about the show were made available. I woke up one morning, and as I usually do even before getting up, I reached to my phone and caught up with things. A message was waiting for me from the Dutchman, saying that a new show was added to the tour and tickets went for sale <em>immediately</em> upon announcement. Unfortunately, I was asleep at that time and the Dutchman was on a train; we therefore bought the tickets about one hour after the sale started.</p> <p>Still, even though tickets were purchased late, we ended up getting the best seats that were available (third row, center. The first few rows, I suppose, were reserved for VIPs and the sorts). I wouldn’t be surprised if that had something to do with the price: €180 <em>per ticket</em> (about $250 CDN), making this the most expensive concert ticket in the entire tour and one of the most expensive concert tickets I have ever purchased.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>To put this price in perspective: the 2010 Get Lucky tour <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/day-off-concert-days-le-sporting-monte.html">made a stop in Monte‐Carlo</a>, Monaco. Two concerts, each going for the price of €140, and prices were inclusive of a full three course French dinner inside the venue.</p> <p>What’s also interesting (at least for me) is that €140 in 2010 was worth almost exactly the same amount in Canadian dollars as €180 are worth nowadays.</p> </div> <p>Arrived at the hotel and found out that it’s located right on the water. The hotel also features a one Michelin star restaurant and a patio, offering views such as the following one:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYC_iOtyEz3GuluBZJIpL1Ep7YeSMEKWS6CnOUjdz3PsiFDUcAiWDNRJPYGy7u_IC4izNQdwHNx-lM6ffO0lmmyzz1tS9AeRM_zyux9oblwJ3iWwsIBFz7o674r156s_yc2cp5-jiNYXT/s1600-h/IMG_20130731_173210%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130731_173210" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130731_173210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLUkz7KhKlFlV777Dua0O9Jp2WD9270rMCaS8L1K9JF8rvGaUjEuz4eefjsO7FvRlPfWgda8sFPkQEykvnoiOC8kawJLP5YJGCxB5ZLs5uHeJ97r9mcTubcSuPf8q_gKBMjoPQQGYeLrgm/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>After checking in, it turned out to be too late for lunch in proper restaurants. A few restaurants were still open for business in the exceptionally touristic beach below…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Ap1ZUsPo_NS86Al4qBGcqh6NlCn13ByBQYQbu9H-YaGWuTY_LAPlN6ZpVipmdS6RQ_8RdWuDRGRqnueuSAA8PjHFWfOjxpi2w8TZrQ6lUdIJt7hpGFZIJgKG_lkNIY3bBPNZzFeOGhV_/s1600-h/P1060230.jpg"><img title="P1060230" style="display: inline" alt="P1060230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZO9wd09s6yblvH0QwLqMjwQm0bIYgQ8XR05pByaCnmQazyekZUTkDoV4VmBVH4WQ4PXznZMWSodEDcoO3Fl2An_zr6qhcvzH8x08PUWS2Bz9rYUWvOgLFdmq0oR2oPKovrXsRBy1MekOJ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgatRQpQOZYAbZ5SY7vjR7LL5zQdkWWIv8w7CWH14ajeNhCwsVhAqHjejuJJ-YD54bTbO9hteQMyF8hLlnW9QR7wRp8JhacFHjtJmYq-pF07tPUxxx5nLfptt8Z5SNxIEXSyZBft2ejiDdm/s1600-h/IMG_2889.jpg"><img title="IMG_2889" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2889" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIbyFy-6GA76ZZjv3A5HmhZ6B0ut_ke8M7w_j4XAkHpgTk5X6sYegiFIueCYLpXapFPNHwC0xEbwMntP4fo8I2B4aRRrj3cZb9dkU7hGt1dMGRyL9g4S3EjILAPXJa3qYK0v_IJx_dKez7/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… however, their kitchens were either closed or proposing non‐interesting menus for annoyingly high prices. Fortunately, there was also a small bakery nearby selling sandwiches and other small snacks: a sandwich had to do.</p> <p>Went back to the hotel and continued writing the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/malaga-to-gijon-to-san-sebastian-spain.html">previous post</a>. That took a great while: about two or three hours spent pecking ruthlessly at the keyboard, while seated at the hotel’s terrace overlooking the clear blue water and enjoying perfect weather. There are far worse surroundings for writing, believe you me.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>It is disturbingly funny to realize that, while the Spanish leg of the 2010 Get Lucky tour has been a nightmare, this time I’m having a ball here. I’m happy that I was given the chance to make peace with Spain after that horrendous experience three years ago. This last week in Spain has been great and I will certainly be back.</p> </div> <p>As the previous post was being uploaded over the hotel’s slow internet connection, I took the time to get ready for the concert. Same routine that has been an integral part of my life for the last three months… and it felt very strange going through it for the last time in this tour. Felt very special, like some sort of a celebration. I even put on a new shirt: my favourite one.</p> <p>The concert was scheduled to start at 10:00pm, and the main problem was that we just couldn’t tell for sure where the venue was going to be. Calella de Palafrugell is a small town; but <em>where</em>, in that small town, was the festival taking place?</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I found this to be a common problem with concerts that are a part of a festival: when concert details are published, the (reasonable) expectation is that the target audience—the locals—are already somewhat aware of where the venue actually is. When the concert in Calella de Palafrugell was announced as being a part of the Cap Roig Festival, I’m led to believe that most people who were the target audience for this concert already knew what the Cap Roig Festival is all about and its whereabouts.</p> </div> <p>The hotel’s receptionist handed out a map and pointed at a particular intersection. Turned out that the festival was taking place at the <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/ShowUserReviews-g1072491-d2070719-r133032888-Jardi_Botanic_de_Cap_Roig-Calella_De_Palafrugell_Palafrugell_Costa_Brava_Provin.html">Cap Roig Botanical Gardens</a>, located about 2km away from the hotel. While it was possible to drive, walking seemed to be a much better option: from the hotel to Calella de Palafrugell, there is a winding footpath going right along the coastline, offering stunning views of the surroundings.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfWvpDt97vtnS3UjLjSiy0gA7CezvcN6aaR546gLNf6m0h6d0EsdMVl8yFmw4uzbv5oO4xO1v9cCtJ0u7Us3SwiO5PiGET6x6hrh3sS6OVeOTB60G5qns-mJN7iaRGFlgz2BHY_Ukv_u08/s1600-h/P1060231.jpg"><img title="P1060231" style="display: inline" alt="P1060231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtwOB97Qzb-fMEMRqb_nP2olJBgn1Pl34u_Mt5_cWfyd8Im50CfgkqTNHA2tPD8lkRl9kFPkjMQaANDKcWIVr0I8_Y506YpVFLRRS-6VPtyYy8U-d_QkXKOJGfpmc-ArR8i_LTxX9kT7Vd/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFMsEfHmlFU9Uf2PxoiTtkHMEKrWS53x9oJr6yELqGQurhphBwaMhffbSqU-1yr_15fpA0e8r7n6RjZypVcyIEpH2w7JZg1cABN4h2YxlhkN-s1A2q3DqvbWRMG5epWkFN_Ea-Mb0Zmoo1/s1600-h/P1060232.jpg"><img title="P1060232" style="display: inline" alt="P1060232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDgrLlsGkM4iCClIE7QxGyOhSCUkVeWXtLFUxDdouPi_IbAzkK36RfBb7Ro4TnpsQnGZyDliDT2uCG1uWZMiR5Mip9S0TCEWxwc0D3SpU5kIFZV2YvrhexBoj_fm7J306Dv_XEJUHmDiEH/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-yH34M5z8qI1KL1FJ0Jdsbm3bklvJyB1BRnNQ-wHdIgvrJr4YNKwRDobGH_zV6jwwhktF5e5FNFCldS5uf_U4-k94ZuEp3pq6MLNgkgSUE2GRkFY6rJR7mG9pLPX86A3hllOaEyUj4Gkp/s1600-h/P1060233.jpg"><img title="P1060233" style="display: inline" alt="P1060233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKrehIkiMhyqJ-Z7uA4sWcrk1jO2fUucDRpBId1gqkLkNG8cKSBgDn-ZFXvjw7zMdh2Cb38Jjah-yT1cH25wgUG3R4vh1k02OW8_iLScCN90kRCijyxpbS5pNPRH_WfWwSoESEf6iDEMt/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixzjfPoulIggmHbI3_cpK8nE-miJwiHckukVvqwsJ9gWqBiPVPpYDGqJ6xQtJzMT4Uq_dvmUqPFP66RdwSTr63r3TXNPu9LeDpWwiMiuD-M1b8gtgmEm1briHQj7_Yp0nJn_byjP1r99FE/s1600-h/P1060234.jpg"><img title="P1060234" style="display: inline" alt="P1060234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6G6QzC0t5GpK8jH8uoiO9xA6kIQra4daWLvR6uKs7cvfsB0IMGPM9NGq_WqA-76hnhwYpscT_7SfyjLoPbCmAoMszhjdSDaubWaPy5H2glACJbR-8CD5WrhiXKzmInn8ljxaBD0oetqLu/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ91La39nrqPvD8V0i-437R-6NJlsjHj-CBjFLUH0KB5JvJZWBcFGxD86imo4W_m22K-YFclMzTSuM43UawvJd4yG8XNiZsJMYc5haazNuQnww9gJw2xGl-9RGLkzteFJMEBSvCtG0Ef1G/s1600-h/P1060235.jpg"><img title="P1060235" style="display: inline" alt="P1060235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaGrjOUyvnij8OthLkE7mnB9Cewy7JkJ5x_YCpk07bj1n05gISixpma80ve1F0Zl3UTlC5_BDLojH5ncu-FbVNR9bxHW4MPJvzKbYG7ltCP-Gyhhyphenhyphenqf7-shzCjvFZLMuzxqxZqMrzGy8B9/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>With views like that, no wonder that a 25 minutes walk took longer to end. Once the path by the coastline ends and merges with the streets of Calella de Palafrugell, the terrain becomes steep. Guided by a paper map <em>and</em> the <em>Google Maps</em> app on my phone, we only became confident that we’re in the right place once we arrived at the venue’s parking lot.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGrXTCKi11je5XFpjKRiTgt0oUjjBCdBaKllgkR7EJh8ySu5hztM6F_OAKQAJaoZNbd9zqsFnqm39mY0fSO-FFfPAfJU1n71SJP4BzuOw6LQTcEobK_GbQIaaUhKJEtRIEKcavc9wDJywx/s1600-h/IMG_2892.jpg"><img title="IMG_2892" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2892" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP9d11cnwEH9O-c0NDG8L5oKVPpaXIfcfv7fcdkwOORx3_Sr851KgrqYVmbB1C2bhmOvQs_4hfoITGuoeym-5GGAudVmKgLGYyxjfxNN6oFbtzSQPiNNuZO6of5fUG0rj4EVsnUD3ND9Wi/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>That was when the sensation of “I made it” crept in for the first time.</p> <p>Ticket collection didn’t take place in the venue’s box office; instead, it took place in a a small black tent right next to the venue’s main entrance.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ8hU6KLbvqnZ8HfUACc1bq9N0TTvnhOQG8YKGNoz6_mD_GrAaYhEXQn25ahu_mkKePYepF_58qenZJBCN8TtVJynowaCpL8ooGFkqagoSty_sUeszoCYyxMamwuf-7xYdo0OHn0cwafhG/s1600-h/IMG_20130731_205915.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130731_205915" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130731_205915" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCy3XDtVgfzAyJ-1QWcOFQXQmmepBLTkqqZH-Xu76V4_ZSry7QFxXYE9FNJ5J2KWJ90joQhxP1sVDj-_ErZUWPBmej794_BsIeQsGCLx7xvILU3pZzMnvb1kZx-guLLKm5l9ZwDmu3UOHN/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>That was when the <em>second</em> sensation of “I made it” took place.</p> <p>The third one took place once I actually entered the venue.</p> <p>The venue was, as people were warning me beforehand, pretty; yet, I was so excited and dumbfounded by the fact that I actually made it here after three months of travel, that I didn’t even bother taking pictures of this place before the concert started (you can find some online).</p> <p>Upon entrance, I noticed piles of people were standing by small tables. The entrance leads you right into the venue’s dining area, consisting of multiple tents located along the perimeter and a few high standing tables in the middle. Very crowded. Still, somehow, I heard the call “Isaac!”. That was Mikel Camps, whom I already met a few times during this tour and who also helped a great deal in the <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/08/last-concert-day-conclusion-festival.html">last concert of the Get Lucky tour in Gredos</a>. Always good to see this guy, who seems to be very familiar with the ins and outs of the Spanish entertainment industry.</p> <p>Went to take a look at the seats…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUYDny0gvlN_F5MbSlqg4jccZFqTEzS5P4ee3W62r-59hz3yFubg4ZtBawRdpfJhrYadE_6W3y5H1QhdNBsizmKHTwxzoIDTnoGzwbcCYNVOB9jQawji9i_I7BuLgdZPlmSzg984XUl07/s1600-h/IMG_2896.jpg"><img title="IMG_2896" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2896" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAyu6GuUlYZPLAE2Nt1eemUGAcO3CoHFMiQqn9CrtI31f3mJ2iuRWpvEmXvt1wY9OC4Le8VFVvPgS5W_5nAQRSgx2AwbEfJhj2shxbJfxqTnIVOyWpvdcTUalaHOgbihLWkYUueIBxPNJA/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjICC7xJp6gvE-Fi-2XHkkP9ouOSQwDwgQwBqhz1ubGuCg9PCiYJz_iDPnpCDrJJVpmiH-bkkJzQpVqNDcFhQCMuKHr_TwEHkScIBw2Fvd6bbm1_RKHNNgBAhilx-6VS9LO3PgNaQcDjHc3/s1600-h/IMG_2897.jpg"><img title="IMG_2897" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2897" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1vNYHwyhkmgLRDFJEmlOEMVhB1DpJxb4PaLkddzG55m_-flNrZCNS7ySLI1T76phMlphZO0Hf73FUDJ9kxGhcYgJ7EtTdIx6lbxSdUeNmcnejhLop8GBiECQrlzP1FYn6WGEipHQCxvmd/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… and stayed there for a few minutes, still trying to catch my breath after the climb up to the venue. Looking around, I noticed that this venue is quite small: I’m pretty sure this was the smallest venue for this tour.</p> <p>Three quarters of an hour before the show, hunger struck; back to the dining area. As expected, prices there were quite steep. An assortment of tiny mini sandwiches went for €6 and had to do. It took less time to eat those six tiny sandwiches than it took to actually get them. That done with, went back to the seating area and waited for the concert to begin.</p> <p>I looked at the stage, the stage looked at me. How familiar this stage is to me now, after seeing it approximately 220 times over the last eight years, about 180 of which during the last three years. I believe I know it by heart already. What a strange feeling it was, seeing this stage <em>for the last time</em>.</p> <p>The seating area quickly filled with people. A couple of minutes past the scheduled start time, Junior Parker’s <em>Feelin’ Good</em> started playing; 10 seconds later, lights went out, Paul got the stage, introduced the band and the last concert of the Privateering tour went on its way.</p> <hr /> <p>The concert took on a great start, with the band appearing to be upbeat and fresh—possibly the result of an adrenaline rush due to this being the last concert for this tour and all.</p> <p>Audience‐wise… well, I don’t know. Here’s the deal: during the <em>markknopfler.com</em> presales, only rows 3 and up were offered for sale. At the venue, a new row was added in front of row 1 (let’s call it “row 0”), making row 3 the fourth row overall. I am not entirely sure who or what entity sold tickets for the first three rows (0–2); at any rate, I have a feeling that those three rows were sold through some sort of VIP or private channels. The audience in the first three rows seemed less cheering and ecstatic than how you’d imagine them to be: most cheering appeared to have originated at the back and at the sides.</p> <p>The cheering and immense support from the back and the sides, though, were of typical Spanish nature: very loud, very passionate. Richard Bennett, in one of his recent posts, wrote: “There is nothing like the Spanish audiences”, and, now that the tour is coming to an end, I believe that I can concur. Yes, there are other loud audiences out there (France, Italy) but, overall, the Spanish seem to be consistently ecstatic (well, except for the north, when they’re a little—though not much—quieter).</p> <p>Just before <em>Song for Sonny Liston</em>, something went wrong. For the first time ever in my life, I heard Kerry’s voice over the microphone, telling Glenn Worf to remove his in‐ear monitor. Apparently, there was a buzz going on in the system, that made it to the speakers as well as to the band members’ in‐ear monitors. The buzzing prompted Mark and Kerry to exchange a few words in a technical language that I’m completely oblivious to.</p> <p>At some point, the buzz was so loud that Mark cried “Ouch!” and removed the in‐ear monitor from his ear. Kerry then sprang into action to locate the source of the noise, which turned out to be somewhere around Ian’s drum kit. The chat with Kerry proceeded, with Mark saying that he was going to test something. Upon hearing the word “test”, some smartass in the audience (naturally, from somewhere in the first three rows) called (loudly) “one… one” (as if testing a microphone). That seemed to annoy Mark, who turned towards the smartass and called “<em>Oh, shut up!</em>”, eliciting a wave of laughter from the audience.</p> <p>The issue was sorted out a few seconds later. Mark, then, turned again towards the joker: “OK, you. What were you saying? what’s your name?”, to which the joker responded with a particular word that I’m not entirely sure of, followed by the expression “like anybody else”. Not entirely sure what it was, but nobody laughed at this. Performance then went on as usual.</p> <p>Once again during <em>Postcards from Paraguay</em>, the band urged Ian to continue drumming “one more verse” (in reference to his premature ending of the song during the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/malaga-to-gijon-to-san-sebastian-spain.html">concert in Gijón</a>): I am happy to report that the song was, once again, played to completion.</p> <p><em>Marbletown</em>… <em>Telegraph Road</em>… a short break, <em>Our Shangri La</em>, <em>So Far Away</em> and it was all over. Band left the stage, lights kept shut for a few minutes, and once the lights went back on, it really sunk in.</p> <p>It’s over.</p> <p>Bid Mikel Camps goodbye, took a few photographs of the venue at night…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSq24DYYpyOKQa5KaCMS8Qk1fmPUQxKDTurPVZ5AL9sEC-vTvn-OdNsh5awemz4hgeqXBZ4hCFAXq12EEXLquny-dv7gQjjsmgyUY_7QylFg2345JbKuOAut98lJuAd5nXK3BAt3A6PyAI/s1600-h/P1060243.jpg"><img title="P1060243" style="display: inline" alt="P1060243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxPMLmzaFui1U2MaXywGYMsymC-G3zEC1AXb4tzTw_gHtJNJzz0kJ1CLWOJ5sqImadL8YLX9iO3U5dL4lIrMWfhyphenhyphenDfn8Rvmdkqa06X_ypxOOKW5FbCrn-X-iuOYv6Kqn0kNqqpOj_ExXm/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiru4113bfgz1IAIW-0BkgZd7qPxHbMfyvO5pTN9Oth3J2QwVInErs7hH8f48RCRbOjey4-Dv5Pxv4bAtnxYv7P8Jb67ioxKK0u4j5VJ862ajS-W4BTbsTE0gM1FDnbzuBtdU6Kq-d76V9H/s1600-h/P1060244.jpg"><img title="P1060244" style="display: inline" alt="P1060244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8g34MwmzlpLfVXVNNMyVtYy1TnXbHwU4zuQ8UciGF5mWqeH5MJ17rK3w7vxiEKC3fGs0CwarYXAxYmFD_d43VRHuGR-lQwsAeKjCIJYB7nUx9nrg_5N2_3itjkW0ALJFQR9RKB_tle1J9/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZJCOutxEcDCc337AST58ElrEksppmFIVS9gaLIku3rWg-3wCbPsy9jChnVrzrOlRa7KFSCTM5Wlfp6CFp80ahzBmvKP_J14EwxtLKd2-Efv4HTZXrQM9Bx22V1gtgdb9X_FtbUi9ENeiM/s1600-h/P1060245.jpg"><img title="P1060245" style="display: inline" alt="P1060245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn_qOCkvyVh65yAF_iUov74crnLwLATKUXerG-xtgXCkijU6FbhB1MKOHj3BzwBFE4Sx3KG7HK8SkWctdlTC8hoeu2DvOTw1jWUUx-YtLZwSLfRiVJYogpAkN1weBQYCzu75Lp_MFAUMYs/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JF1z_0pbRGtpOhAbOZsTGH68_0HG6ymJc9O-gJARWDoXxVPR5-PhnSeMlH8gKMtvsrNFm6NfwJIkGileE0769-tgokhzyg4uGpcXZpsU8a6u_nTWuL3wUszWHDPnK5QwcXpwysNDhkKd/s1600-h/P1060246.jpg"><img title="P1060246" style="display: inline" alt="P1060246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKQcly1cCq_gyqiS3gKT23PkY9gWC0dYs6meKtmtWsLRrMhTTuEjPNq9TZAM-BSVkCvoI_oCvL23I3zUWXLL1QPh7NHZ8tI9ifZoboGrCpnNiGf74KMTz8OQuGUyx9ExQBTXKUtC-jK2Dm/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… and proceeded with the 25 minutes walk towards the hotel.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9SnlcOaV8r3ijk6Dh-kvkNCPyqwJKcGEIYLDJ1mMOIQVEGGHqfQujP9rY3PQEl3rm0iDqZgAwE8MWu6ReNoR_twSEJwqu-A6cG1XTEYLyg9rY0pMQwNS9WUtG2OSXVGMcBAfFu3LIVarg/s1600-h/P1060250.jpg"><img title="P1060250" style="display: inline" alt="P1060250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn9B8XnEdTmiSvpl-KV4jbI3jSm6KgIP5EFyfzOEfGwFZbaLpSTYGrgutJbqzghXBwpslXZA0I3OO7DxQLcKDfg07K8PfCrPl8zHcvV-nPGVEnh5d2W3LJ6IKE_0XYaKh5OU06k1ufnu67/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bQka6D-HEt0rj_hvsMgkJ0FGRnyuO_wsEuSVYuAO269MoYnboIuJ_bo-nBxddHt9MT_wC85m1UWwLgOBfCISOKCCvu22QyqD6ZSQ43MZwLhpPoAjurOiO9qbOBNG46s5Ce9NfC3SOxAc/s1600-h/P1060254.jpg"><img title="P1060254" style="display: inline" alt="P1060254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYTClSrcaJ5w33g2FoXaLB_yVCO7b5nldgz1cP308msBMv12QGJ3OMKpS_LK6x9yp75vpbKPPgO-kEn1uvBlv3MiUC3TW2qohncmKT_hDnGAVRBszo-tFJe2hGzsxH1t9nWe8dEujgEkls/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Grabbed some ice cream along the way, which didn’t help much to cope with the heat. It was incredibly hot and humid; I was sweating from body parts that I never knew I was in possession of. It was close to 1:00am when I finally arrived at the hotel; took a shower, verified with the Dutchman that it was indeed all over and went to bed.</p> <hr /> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrNd_Di6jdrAIxUXOBzKu5pH63nDrJZ2D0Xpa1z2IhzD6zjgKVau7jYmd0GfOveIm8aZcNEpw05qOsLB_EbHfbpzbz8OKoXGmsAM5PxUYHBropF4lvmw19wlKQOjK2Xa51__XC6S0b2eiV/s1600-h/IMG-20130315-WA0000%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG-20130315-WA0000" style="display: inline" alt="IMG-20130315-WA0000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9HBlPaMzunilpQIHnagpw7cRE5nPo_jupWjdqXyVw8-3adxHbPXbV2J3fiq61h2rqDmUasy8t7gZg8pLlOCXDN9PTgQG5lmorf1xMAKIjKFRSuC07Exlf2ukWtZkIb88rKpZdh5s_agy4/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Well, it’s been quite a ride. More than three months on the road, with my world compressed into a travel bag (what a brilliant travel bag it is! thanks, <a href="http://www.ospreypacks.com">Osprey</a>), following what I still consider the best band around.</p> <p>It was far from being easy. It was hard. <em>Very</em> hard. I recall the Dutchman saying something along the lines of “I knew it would be hard, I just didn’t know how hard it could possibly be”. Undoubtedly, this tour was much, <em>much</em> harder to follow than the 2010 Get Lucky tour—and that one, mind you, wasn’t easy to follow in the slightest.</p> <p>I could go on and on about the challenges that were encountered during the tour, and there were many. I will be the first to admit that I am more than a tad spoiled (later on in this post, you’ll understand why): living in my own bubble in western Canada, I got so used to certain conveniences that I started taking them for granted. Thus, while I could write piles and piles of rants over why things don’t quite “work” in many parts in Europe, this is all a matter of perspective: it’s not that Europe “sucks”; it’s just that my own bubble, headquartered very close to the Pacific Ocean in the stupidly awesome city of Vancouver, is… well… as good as it gets. <em><u>FOR ME</u></em>.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>One comment, written in French, accused me of being way too harsh and disrespectful towards certain Latin cultures (interestingly enough, it was the one and only negative comment I received, throughout the entire tour), and called upon me to “go home already”; I recall similar comments being made during the last tour. That comment failed to take into consideration one major factor: <em>everything</em> that has been written in this blog was written from the point of view of an individual who doesn’t live here and has an exceptionally complex and convoluted schedule to follow. I never intended to perform full research of entire cultures and pass judgments on them; what I did was to just highlight certain aspects of these cultures that affect reckless travellers, such as myself. Chill out, then; your country (or city, town, or whatever) doesn’t suck. You’re OK, too. Relax. Take a deep breath. No offence was intended.</p> </div> <p>It’s been a tough ride and I must say that I feel privileged to have been given the opportunity to do what I had done.</p> <hr /> <p>Now, I suppose, would be a good time for thanks.</p> <p>The first “thank you” goes to the one who deserves it the most: my travel partner, usually referred to as “The Dutchman” although some people prefer, for a reason I just can’t comprehend, to call him “Jeroen Gerrits”.</p> <p>For months, we were planning the tour’s itinerary together, and I can’t even begin to tell you how difficult it was just to <em>plan</em> for this tour (let alone to actually follow it). The efforts put into planning paid off, though: together, we came up with a travel plan as meticulous and extensive as only two minds with strong scientific orientation could come up with.</p> <p>We ended up spending the vast majority of the time during this tour together, and whoever knows me a little beyond this funny blog screen could easily tell you that my personality would render me a disastrous travel partner at times. I am forever indebted to Jeroen for his companionship and friendship along the way, as well as for helping me out by lifting my travel bag onto trains’ overhead compartments ever since I fell down and broke my wrist in June. How he withstood those long nights when I was pecking at the keyboard writing this drivel while he was trying to fall asleep—is beyond me.</p> <p>Special thanks also go to the almighty Ingrid—possibly the closest thing to “superwoman” that I had ever seen in my entire life. Many of this tour’s best days were spent with Ingrid around, and I am indebted to her as well for her friendship, as well as for her help along the way.</p> <p>Many thanks to all the readers of this blog, for your readership as well as for your comments. My goal in this blog was far from being about the actual concerts; instead, it was all about the travel experience. If I was able to convey at least some of the highs and lows of this tour to you, then I consider my job done.</p> <p>Many thanks to all people I met during this tour, new and familiar faces alike: your support was, and still is, much appreciated.</p> <p>And, of course, many thanks to (in clockwise order) Jim Cox, John McCusker, Glenn Worf, Ian Thomas, Mike McGoldrick, Richard Bennett, Guy Fletcher and Mark Knopfler, as well as the tour’s management, for helping provide a perfect soundtrack for yet another amazing experience. No matter what happened during the days, watching this band perform on an almost nightly basis helped reverting things back to equilibrium.</p> <p>There is no better band around. There can’t be.</p> <hr /> <p>August 1, 2010. The <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com">Get Lucky tour</a> had just ended, and I headed to Barcelona to spend a few days on the beach before heading home (back then, I used to live in Waterloo, Ontario). I knew I’d need a few days to unwind, so I had my flight home scheduled to depart a few days past the tour’s conclusion.</p> <p>I remember spending a few days on Barcelona’s beautiful beaches. It was beautiful, peaceful, and beautiful again. I remember gazing at the beach and at the water, trying to comprehend the fact that the tour was over and what it meant; and more than anything else, I remember the feeling. It was a feeling of intense and profound emptiness: what used to be a daily routine—waking up, travelling, watching concerts, sleeping—had just ended: <em>what now</em>?</p> <p>The few days spent in Barcelona after that tour were not enough to recover. In a sense, I don’t think I ever recovered fully: I dislike clichés, but I’m willing to take a leap forward and admit that following the 2010 Get Lucky tour had an immense impact on my life, mostly positive but also negative.</p> <p>I flew from Barcelona back to Toronto, took the one hour taxi ride to Waterloo, entered my house and…</p> <p>Nothing.</p> <p>It was that moment, that sensation of emotional vacuum that convinced me that my time had come: time to leave the boring, comfortable life in rural Ontario behind, sell my house, pack whatever still meant anything to me and move to where I had always wanted to: the wonderful city of Vancouver, located five hours flight west of Ontario, right on the coast of the Pacific Ocean.</p> <p>I still had a few commitments to attend to. Those ended in December, and one month later I was already in Canada’s west coast. I took with me five guitars, a piano, an espresso machine, an espresso beans grinder, a few clothes, and everything related to my computer; I gave away most of what was left.</p> <p>Fast forward three years later. The move to Vancouver was one of the best decisions I have ever made. Life became exciting. From the deafening quietness and paralyzing boredom of rural Ontario, I moved to live in the very heart of a big city—a city which I still consider the best place (again, <em>FOR ME</em>) to live in on the face of this miserable blue planet.</p> <p>After spending a year in a small apartment in an older building, I moved to a brand new apartment, in a brand new building, looking over the city from really high up.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCh_tr7d4aMVqrAxVnvKra_2OJzXacZHAdToen19Htf40CT9l3SIafTo-shgR9n4KKvyW-iACW4k3ulcO0lDhPIMUOlVJTN9zFjOB3VJH02x1qj_Nx37gFQXxBieSmdDGGEYnOpfvBPGbj/s1600-h/398745_10150557821247073_437174498_n%25255B2%25255D%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="398745_10150557821247073_437174498_n" style="display: inline" alt="398745_10150557821247073_437174498_n" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy3-0bI_E4adxcoGjQviutwGukbMiWvqncggmVQ8rZjeyWDXAYJ73chcVddvPm_Hd6-8ZJuftxXsISZ9ym0xJX3mqfQo3Ghkt9ra1ioRJvQyLzY9to3W5rBFQumA189RzM-M5l2g1-xCPv/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="328" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9oHocbmU4G2n8Zf15JE-W3i-W9aCytiT7PUepAk2gxZbSYSx1HGTXyj-RJBbeRgp4uuh2rLUQAWhOjDLX63BDAS9KF5tG1DozY0nyIk7lyfJM_AbH6JZ1qGA3AmePUt-bmowIRigd-kku/s1600-h/463540_10150784355842073_383510088_o%25255B2%25255D%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="463540_10150784355842073_383510088_o" style="display: inline" alt="463540_10150784355842073_383510088_o" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH08TjUsZk0aX6W7ECdC4c9hKv7ocGo7QoulWgVcSzUDJ35NaAU5G4FT2kd0o7MVx9f129PG7vE5rVNSVn7UpT7xdS9usddBARiAK7DGEDfjpskHsHettEqeTcfkICRnnNOYE1W8awo1CI/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="277" /></a></p> <p>And here’s some very early morning view:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiywd86mOHTJJUSJpu9YEF6Jjs5IzayyaQibk4f8jG1win6COUTtBFrVEYas99SNT4PbuHhn5YPxtyQ6UZxVcfmYGa84xrY83u3rgoYLtEakMZ1uss2jshOhWSIoD1D0rTPFSyx8cw9u2c5/s1600-h/P1050396%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050396" style="display: inline" alt="P1050396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEzAPXLWCQdePHk4TOFJtjRvz2ZR022MhWkB1ZLdTV54fCGvHhjpWdk7TmxujkrILEwusyC0JWtvimvjFlOW3pcmflDHoK-ePQT9Fg1mPFz1Pwx1ZN0sw2vLzZ6ytgZXf5apyNPVRxFR5t/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="277" /></a></p> <p>My passion to travel changed as well. Before, I was happy whenever I got the chance to travel far, very far—as far as an airplane could get me out out of southwestern Ontario; living in Vancouver, I still like to travel a lot—but I really don’t need to put too much effort into it. Everything I’m looking for in a travel experience is located within a few hours drive from my apartment, and some of it can even be found in Vancouver’s downtown area.</p> <p>For example, it’s less than an hour drive to the <em>Stawamus Chief</em>, for a lovely day hike that features, say, these:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0IZHdahBJ0GsbQUltKIhS43mBWzrp5q_eUoIh7ifyrAaQACxnSITwKtLYZ1NyKcYlM494Hpymty6E5Y3gZDMP21c_CfMPCbSqx7dTW9emJUNPzVMMWGC4b5JCUGnc8QPYlZvuq-KJJTE2/s1600-h/P1050151.jpg"><img title="P1050151" style="display: inline" alt="P1050151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFdQqlf1RIlllzDdNZtUZMLzZhcD0dz6jo9kTVEoNUXrpffcqkkgNI9A7mv1wAsDhQwkvhvWj9x7re7E7t4MC_nctDq1_nZE2IRUbProeiqllNx9GVNTQyRI1MneLPk4Lc7iAyMXpk77tI/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="135" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK2hnL3zlQxUi_ALlEPqimGmwppqDmQibLsZ_whEW_l4y5Cy4pyQTDtHNfaCfDAdt7VpyNFcMdqw4UMCeHnNLAJdOCHt_0VWZ2-2LwWQlatpPKLcvdyLWZAYpQsfX5f1NcD4XQ4AfuTrhH/s1600-h/P1050094.jpg"><img title="P1050094" style="display: inline" alt="P1050094" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIK6JztVuDdwl5SGm_bYCgb49nleduY-uSv6tPNW5v4s8-3jpVe34uNa-dfTflpieIpAF7VofAy6fRR9_Vi3nauAPenJlM9TNNklIRgE7Y-j-b6rsjx-a0hMr_teYmLlR2Jb_j18uVGBq6/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="135" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmBQAkNIik3pHivIeS_Z1lYnz9cIMHqoIr3E-_5ayZWj5cXw6EK0OFcttQPfbQ62bs2uE9Vx4qkYvACDBid64OSM3jLZFJMJ7YHQlnSy-kqADJX9ZCeDeYge7UXMaaYLXoTDyZ16mD_3-/s1600-h/P1050144%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050144" style="display: inline" alt="P1050144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Oj49GaQpj3a_QutWgpSFSuEO8UEX3RK9NS9SsjrFYppkJXj1T31WaY6viMBzmvZR1n5uGi23_otrnQvZPYjmJkzNuWFv_MB_oQfWndYSVjDzjDgvKKJ4zuOHcxb1gh9aQnfokDzCAm29/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="277" /></a></p> <p><em>Whytecliff Park</em> is even closer:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2YWyJD3vVLWD_kb1E9DnrF1W49tm8N6lmwGLTvnFQCT5uqb2waH2z2p80pXV5EsrAMiEZc-9B6gRD6S7tBVQ4xvweCo6ngWR3jLJLMKSJgGhJTQTXhuo5-1WGk_L1PqgGub9kKZ73MaB/s1600-h/P1050050.jpg"><img title="P1050050" style="display: inline" alt="P1050050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxRqjx6sN9lA4T5aXb-gdWqQFlMaXoMXSpIiEDxGRs-oNjfUvreZnqrdTwhPul1llg8yNnhDnMuYyGELP1yETOk73YHxTNTeVSXzb7BFoouFYU4IYyrSXhy0sYwdsZqokCDX-jnPi4D1rw/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="135" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY8JQxdwbCXPwActjTyuj6dtX2lnyfFhK-wKM00nBJMAC2RStvOi0f0LoroXm0hJsZGa0KnXtDKxafVK8XooCzV_vHpOH7NOVnI-aLw38dw8DjFHilY2hjtG5n7ZAluz8WzY4ePAebjFLx/s1600-h/P1050054.jpg"><img title="P1050054" style="display: inline" alt="P1050054" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZJig6pUftJeKMfXfm6VI0yvv6ZxQXHFnHLInIoU01TtRGdmAmIuw4VmDalYlpapWOj9-4WTyHBlv5GwicXW1SkY_qKSN9pN9Ush3rzY1M8HNCFkDRHQFVW0_hFQ0TWUfCGt28z1naaGtx/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="135" /></a></p> <p><em>Horseshoe Bay</em> is just around the corner from there:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9QqVbSJEsL4abKwJToyt8SF166ylchy68INBbiN-IBtGfhZAz55NxhscW1iHyuSlRBXGpznfi6sa7hyphenhyphenbv_eY4tOgkQN0iE21bmsc8zBAAn_wyHQCTzd85gl6cpdrqd3MxA82v8-2wFDQ1/s1600-h/P1050058.jpg"><img title="P1050058" style="display: inline" alt="P1050058" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf36g7UhTGM97KomRZQBer_RqSyH_H29A7iaU1V_uNJtVBKNaDu3dD1pE8ij7bEPQSc2SbDXj0EsoJfN1Oo1nzJZ2JU0JzMJ5ei9_K66WfvOUguCL9tqohZux9WMihWxrotBCxK0_Upncg/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="135" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir16SdYgvHJ9PruR9nZ-Q8Bne2Lo8jGyKLYS3xv4RrweaDEAeM2JgNyWCUW9JQXMn7FfhMwr9oHwr0GkmImd54ClXkOfef9-ykJavuhpeuLubdYzygmVYE2HQLljnly8riAS-I6qFJzeB4/s1600-h/P1050060.jpg"><img title="P1050060" style="display: inline" alt="P1050060" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJPr9JQstj6iFLXBLHMXne-0IVM4sbTfcjg5H3ht0aPQSvdfYsdJHnruDNiqnEVn1eJ3EYfnV9B2Bm1-XoT6NcZtKQhEdyW8JnDL1dfFqRaMBCLs09cccLozX5G1VOkB-YnJt7EOH2rcH/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="135" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuXh1Fu8pjPYlpE3HKGKKhvdWTkV4dcHfXRLuthvTW4J_bIiOrBpmPgmnga6kHLVcFk39tiT1M4A2RWvxbItuV6os807MExxMGz9mnHYkEOpSyJlPyOBxrEELRekzXA6WNCPqF2KnP_n-/s1600-h/P1050062%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050062" style="display: inline" alt="P1050062" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG_cezJu5h1JsgjpQb4E10xSqpRBGtNfm4t4yVLu8fY0Kzm7e40wwBLa77etXn1VP-EfmYrFtcl6s0lH5Xri1z3jBp82cl4Ft6PIGAjDqVSPLZulGfTwmQ17Qw5MuVxEyTjZU-eGmoBcEi/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="277" /></a></p> <p>Or, say, this (I’m not even sure where I took it, I think somewhere around <em>Squamish</em>):</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpgf75MA7W8ZIuOnT83imxBhF2UEN6Ae1VgtRrvIRbHQD690qVlrPiTvKeFSlmYHZPjDSvKjjDYmQf4EJ1zCNYlu7lfoti9uCGUYBDLr4OxQEGp_JIZhfaOVVbennpMTwUDcGIQeEAZFH/s1600-h/P1050003%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050003" style="display: inline" alt="P1050003" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdbp4IE57s8pU0pg-Y9hkBF-U16-d0AhDN6KBVv6xP9UFS35ilVdqA6G-s-cep9nNmXHKFCXcQpr36sP2J2cPFfRU_fye8yK4u20PRXxMPahQA3_kIGPAvmB5GEm13BjEY1lbqQz2St8wU/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="277" /></a></p> <p>How about a hiking trail in, say, <em>Cypress Mountain</em>, conveniently located in West Vancouver, a bridge away from downtown (note: there are bears there, too)?</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwYnUuelIhlkcL9mgjKDJh2P8k_X47Dk_s3NDis87E5rTPsbXyuuT_2Ytee5gJ-eH1N_YNldh8Bl3YNe7bh3WmCOtT87vurllXtLfVOvX7P0cL77wMuBnHUBETwv3P7VFhwO_kc4XWx8rb/s1600-h/P1040938.jpg"><img title="P1040938" style="display: inline" alt="P1040938" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglHzay89uiUTPwGUASAuU2IpZKkZd8sDkqGTAohBoj3DjD0FEqY51NUoZsAa6R9v6gZy3xbP2KaZQOKLRGEKeY_XeiP7T_fzyh-SfanW_mdlICSDjARUburV5XsypTqSFXmcIL6Z0ZDpH7/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="135" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQRWyvNQy3_Pr1D6xl6N8WbHpNYhHxr_UKWP3km3WaA4ueNvP8lA64g-fjlq6bOBTqyvGmK47d_6A5rKzN8AxVMrhpDkT6-8wVmzHRTi5TZZV1f4LUKSmS2Y8JCt9ByAeqLAvcWcy6x5vV/s1600-h/P1040944.jpg"><img title="P1040944" style="display: inline" alt="P1040944" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXtUdXK1D3nhpTGHv9zbxzeOM1A1riUPg1BZm4FTeMO2b0r6w6s5kX81Gfuqes7O-UhwWypKwTJUomTi-_DUH-4BfN1cNioKarYMaQXs5lGsNKPj0_fgaLibo4WjTc2OP6lxPITii1CWWd/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="135" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQooRf0HusCxKyygRCiCrbS2i8s2EwuXeY2bx3yrctKZ0Q3j13ebq-F5oafODSINur67KZDTZ2-G71Ux2Pje7Qx-ziipzCtFO8aGuAa1EWDOkaRofRGZLc64VDRu-4PylhxU_jWwV7g6p/s1600-h/P1040983%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1040983" style="display: inline" alt="P1040983" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB1kiTSNsqoyZGX4OTN1cwyZtDxJbNQ6bhdR9ku1iYvtMw4NtfnCt7dG3M0AXIqzUydmpL1dgkWExqODEwuQ9GjChxHYgQeHTZ3vQ164MLpRUa1So4xXTn5ZR3ZqrEMOm3Yb1Waucu62Eb/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="277" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV4kf_QNsq4NjdtPpL376dtMpSvLTP9hNDA3ofYliYd-XK4u7Vt1bfQiMh_FzAnW1d8BZbiComdNIb_oEy5nEG30igGN-x6xCDhK1etTtXcg54cGA2WnXXTaYP8WxR0ZjqZmHOWFZ6wQWg/s1600-h/P1040981%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1040981" style="display: inline" alt="P1040981" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxyGpSYbgRP48y-_Ahx11Cr3eTkssefHULRrWJEh9pzhJNZtNDRzoU-mV2EkS7O1XjsFz9jEjG2O4p2LXMEtURMQg8T7TPi6jVpi6DHqS9XwaRaTg7gAGPpNOQwdKKgMH5s8dVBDDAMWbW/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="277" /></a></p> <p>Highway 99 (“Sea to Sky Highway”), considered to be one of the most beautiful highways in the world, connects Vancouver with Whistler.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPa4szWwUYEAvRccc8GhPO47Ou10IdTudcU8UvRawFzto03tFSWoeEXhCF3GhC6P1dJ1_GMX-dAlvyLEhJ9JOC6yT11fX8Hd-B9B-pq3N9pbvTtWvUUEv4kc5o-ArGA3vh8SZRah9Y0UQ/s1600-h/P1040688.jpg"><img title="P1040688" style="display: inline" alt="P1040688" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUiY8Ykqv7L_Hz0RF9-N8ZyWoZiUop0LaztZVfkW2yphvBnM0uTtCCjWliuKuYQ9B3AGknRwexiwzL-9RuvpWTbRaruByhrbdU_T5odufeawQwmbkwffCVILfiTpT2HV9Skdo08yOZTaWm/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="135" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4Z5n9C7MwJ0a_WFfBHOQxdALRQTDN10ZGIgQfp9vewU4bSN8cLMXkfd7EBUjhK028JyH2VSKUdhbCyO91xBUJrxCGXBuA4aEzDOy9Ce_WPMOlGhedEAa5hzlEHfdTijf1ybA2tYFFj3A/s1600-h/P1040690.jpg"><img title="P1040690" style="display: inline" alt="P1040690" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvy0k1IP4kP23yg5gsdX2oojzlvIppdp91KANSuGTA6m03wydkNtBr35G9tAko6MC8b4CGqlDBU6PcIQlfoTjEW-esL68lJBLQgHxO_EoUNQq4KS4zh68vIW9NP2UFKEwkIo68PgeLfbx8/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="135" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWC53Hn4jQte5tRBKmnh97IA6Nqqw-AxpNEnI-6l8MLwSZNMpDvlhvH36zFH392oRBFGHSAPmJ_4wbbHsoFa9WSLa25qFG8kRJ405uuZxagslIM4lexI1pFU7qSSivMJ207HzLrrpnEHxc/s1600-h/P1040709%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1040709" style="display: inline" alt="P1040709" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQy06j2iidNFiYe4OgeyrBDSNPgXQKOvYxECKjBaYDeAYv3aT4MgRdQaS0I3RTmT_QqDU7jEWXmKXSEw3w9K5qLc9TC3eQqHmB2wkkJYk1_zDxVixHd2BnSSyKLb4uy8ughjYJ4eSr8VN/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="277" /></a></p> <p>How about Whistler in the winter?</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqKbsE0LCDdqZP3lcKrggZ_lGUSWlIcxt6SuPZgWLFa2WCpoXcqQ13H6q7vEEideFATBTu3IhpYLTUrM8ff6W_xLFFcQMIUQZ78GIW9FUND_uSfo1TjWlG2sjl0fFFQ84WyxuLnWu_wz6d/s1600-h/P1040243.jpg"><img title="P1040243" style="display: inline" alt="P1040243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAY1usomGPDbZspPbwuLS9GAc5qEMr5S_vKP1lMEt9Hh5d1A3GPTmPoR7QMg3qYaM-qi7f-PwxiVZbj1Il5mPxbdpUeHEJVSjsGjLmS7zBhAHqoap-xFq2bNI1603vYId0Zu2L7SyMns4d/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2QYsSjpkfGtdiDvTI4J2vycurFjJFoIUHYJPWDy3bGOWKCYakZH8jFvxzYoTXInTBI_K5siaPwhwKgrBbE58UpkQAWFN4Hxo4uQQxhsX09pr1KNTH79KwmFU0Pdlkut_6WOR-GwqbuF0m/s1600-h/P1040245.jpg"><img title="P1040245" style="display: inline" alt="P1040245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIRlYmpWn1Nla20OkU7dROWSudO2bjYKCsBl2FnaqkNR1By-cNA_l26pQDyUyYt-Y4rcatSDoucfaQX7EaU0IJ54qtDbXiqOwDAi1kc4arYBW8cOWwN61kWUbOO0j8KtKq1rCasYz_x37K/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihuUe9w8sjiWcTCHNq_RnSklWU4JS8kkSQxJO_o9ernD0Cwa7maRA-yBIWH9vjORLL8wIMNVRGFezJ29jLn09CXAv1tMHT6YYAAwRfVxVhA-XsTsCHVnTj2-iYMRewJ-pC4LhqdgIe_MIk/s1600-h/P1040255.jpg"><img title="P1040255" style="display: inline" alt="P1040255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOxnx6VsFPkLy8WzAvSn9DoEHGGa0oau6uwROvMv99bd6bmtvk4kskN-OP1Tkv9ofEGkmSHdv5UUTqCFJ24CsB129JuWeJUVQ_0GwJIRy38wunUz2x6MmkNy8GKrj-vTRYFN8Y3guRIKtQ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrm9k0yz5Y5v5l_WX4FAm8bY-3xqVoMR3pFXoM6b35A8m3pb6UnbGFj3KQOo-llrQK7Oy282rw8NasD5Mk0CXB3aFlfD9z3utzzVHb9BHuENuxsQX_HBWbVdQciz8XgdLZUi1SsBKJ9nR_/s1600-h/P1040256.jpg"><img title="P1040256" style="display: inline" alt="P1040256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZQLPe9Tjd4K4abYqbo8gSf4oRoRFlQ54P9h9EAt2hRvoCr4w4on6qJYKpoJ0o6SyUtd5JEIzTYojKO3esTcHhAFq9xYJLhZZOMvH11eC2Y57Q_AYgyyRNVVf3gjSxFkw4C7Cak2FpQ6O-/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>(Too bad I don’t ski.)</p> <p>Sitting here in <em>Porteau Cove</em> isn’t half bad either, about 30 minutes drive away from home:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDMxymDnuSAQcwSami-tvazGetea2V8bLTbgpU6BSoq9GIN8SUFpDksMTE-0W_63Z__sXsBIQcGv5_cy8b5P6BWVCZ1SrluOhJk3td9eBhNBL4PLR_B1YgXK5l_C0HC2KvGrI9v9PE2or/s1600-h/P1040104%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1040104" style="display: inline" alt="P1040104" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ScpLG80J_4fYXcVqJsjkGjZeV3gfAwgf8fsa9REKBeMS4mKezAMK8d_7kkvQHlfuKCYsFtGnR8I49LQnHlt4fI8C-d1iAW__D9Q6tCS_V1Rvqcry3xGE_P_BxwGRD-xiKHjOIsKtgSKP/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="277" /></a></p> <p>Feeling like going to the beach? why drive? <em>English Bay</em> is located at west side of the downtown peninsula:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-Ml61b_ZtGYfRuFSDtuEdzIgwDtStbGZZXN6WrpkksJu4OKDXurgOBM2mmhQQDmRlYllUg74UwlRIuoMIpEECn_tbMLpRVz2D2BEy_cBMQ2bHWLPPMErAdS4oYzBN4zdQBoTiGvFxuT5/s1600-h/P1040219%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1040219" style="display: inline" alt="P1040219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj396KzJiwTytGaUZxluQZPewlSWpTCJTWoOuuj8EuYmoOO6xm-AxuI_2eBSHz7CKUVrd-8YDRMEnd_gcnSHzgwF9qJCx_lT6D04hXSGLc2SzkxYec3Vl2XjgFaclfuq_g9u-pJvHi2OW8z/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="328" /></a></p> <p>Feeling like taking a day trip? here’s the <em>Okanagan Valley</em> in the east, about four hours drive.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHT31-hvqbBWs7YPwphuW15LZqMbnd3Gb1ZYwviWZMQ2G5EGqs4m6E1uUuh60tFXorgXBlRn3fogUY3kWnNI7NLm3WQXsxmetUTc8QjBX0bf2e_iRLAoQ7cmCzsUUdr3sWeLgvFMMN8Ug/s1600-h/P1040096%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1040096" style="display: inline" alt="P1040096" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjfxPGJrG7apH6Dst6UuFoBRtloWwtIp6y6wyOkRUvK3a1DvfCHTpw5GMkGhEhYCBP_SM9IfuV-_8HFQPJYWFNp2ZkYHmMfpboZTvT8KJhpR7Kv24EnwR6osqbkQhP-5rPZ7DzisL_9F0/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="328" /></a></p> <p>Further east, you get to the Canadian Rockies:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2TDkXCJHa5gGiR-veqRRHfkqC1cPJwCkZy93hY2g3180O2WjG5X3IdsmXCdy2QveKo_awrJMO1eEKqXjFeP2rBDlu3hCTY9r5EZc7506S6H1Cj20hvgm0UBBeC14aFDSOrEOcSc1WSlHH/s1600-h/P7270201%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P7270201" style="display: inline" alt="P7270201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY5Zom34308vlHP1eRNK1-haptyeMXei-cYGcza1ACHETm7QgN9rsNSFPXLIM5VqjDCZKH0h0i7D0m4VnIq_lLhxeK-GVWFJuswt_hwtqha3gOC01P_DOmVIWEMj3M_QosCOp945nw0uE8/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGrVPToi-bO-EiZi6965kOQukBHWRwL08PpIrjHacqlfpoh85PIzvjPZbnr3xp7G4Obfnl0i2-NqzZ4O3NSA82Sf6XlguRQNqOts2w_TGlMFqzIzb9mJKJYPnt-CPOo1wY-MVt_62EyaM/s1600-h/P7270230%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P7270230" style="display: inline" alt="P7270230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUIhSBlpdSklU16nbODiQZEs0GTwx9OdOzBCHM8Wz8bFnvy1rhbRDRA2UPsU41J7_KmAYpCpdxKk4ycgFKRp8i7hNAoda56Zbr7gJ7FfWmblLzFAOMKzrC8hVDx47GbJ8p3ykqVSY85FgW/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeHUHW4WmpD1xetaW5BTH7tYz3EO_AzUD1M6exsOvNtOOODxD0YoVnge9rbzz6z8MWGA4o7-gY2wl3ab9f_Ngwbw6pLjmtPAMKkcBYHC8KbPx4MyH0ejFLySJbzYKbQmHINVtNJRwcv430/s1600-h/P7280256%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="P7280256" style="display: inline" alt="P7280256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJqQVN_xKsjI6i94UPaRo5rknDIZrfscBoe_QdhgO8X682YniIa6ApJ1IsnvNrePNIgRcRPq-71Rbqk6bZWNBeUqY7W7kkxaNGJKjn2ZtpDey197Yu8CogB_VEsZ4DBojioS_xZimBJPM0/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh23oIWPGZrxwGTAgKdjGZRjLx8fkWy1_ZqIt4cf7Jg0h6oNu1p5pHpcDK9mnQcFseTPsEdUj7N0kbR_U1OvcXHFIj2qPY1Iu8MUO64Xzv6bB3LTbNERWpkpERdBEJURbSjHvR0z9lWcsiu/s1600-h/P7280288%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="P72802881" style="display: inline" alt="P72802881" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF2hgD0ttKjPSxhMCAeghf92fd0JgmZ2RZBwdihkJxomGggZMZkVZYCAJbh68x2wpGZs_u1c1x10dNVT77I6rR58sNjJ8JSgxqxZXRYbvbVPI00i59QESlECYVeINg4YzJAhpIZDGMN7AM/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>And the list goes on and on. The point of all of this was to illustrate that I no longer have to travel much in order to get up close and intimate with Mother Nature; it’s all right here within reach.</p> <p>That should explain why I was thinking really, <em>really</em> hard before finally deciding to follow this tour. I kept raising valid questions against doing it, and kept coming up with a “yes, but…”. <em>Something</em> tipped the scale in favour of this tour, and given my immense love towards British Columbia (well, the Canadian Rockies are on the border between British Columbia and Alberta, and most famous sites are technically in Alberta’s side; but work with me here), you could see why I had trouble rationalizing it. At the end, I gave up all rationalization and decided to just go with it.</p> <p>When I say “at the end”, I am referring, really, <em>to the end</em>. All tickets were purchased and virtually all travel was already arranged and paid for, <em>before</em> I took the final decision to attend the tour in its entirety. I can’t recall exactly when it was that I took that final decision; I believe it was around March, about a month or so before the tour started.</p> <p>And so, on April 8, I bid Vancouver goodbye, headed to the airport, and flew to Israel to visit my family and friends. Two weeks later, and two days earlier than planned due to aviation strikes in both my departure point (Israel) and destination (Germany), I arrived to Frankfurt to meet the Dutchman; a day later, flew to Bucharest and the rest is all (well, mostly) <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/04/what-again.html">documented in this blog</a>.</p> <p>I am happy that I took myself through this immense challenge, and I feel a great sense of accomplishment for successfully going through it all.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from the terrace of the hotel in Llafranc. A good lunch was had earlier in <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g635891-d2732884-Reviews-Restaurant_Hotel_Casamar-Llafranc_Palafrugell_Costa_Brava_Province_of_Girona_Cata.html">the hotel’s Michelin Star restaurant</a>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioK3ZFOcLLCvY6Ib5EIinLm_7SPXIcfEkqlSIZYegx-sjy_sq1viv7AustCwqWcmooiMXsS6PTQhpk9C99SiR7mCUqAjLqwI4ts99EcHpXQIx9cZ6j9CbvLmuM7KTCgKLZWrqK-XJP-lmy/s1600-h/IMG_20130801_141650.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130801_141650" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130801_141650" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-afrRVoCyxhcxesUX2WpNJOilFrZUJ9Ci8iuxs9ZTdhzhBTl9_CpoMQFCPqlUHCljxXzl9IzoHabXyEDU3SIe77GDsp2y8QuQzpfQC3jnhzectFVbnPe38gb6gXKDml8ckcDy2KrQMW2A/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Will upload this post, take another walk around this beautiful place, and then head back to Barcelona, staying in a hotel by the airport.</p> <p>Tomorrow morning, the Dutchman will take an early flight to Amsterdam. My flight to Toronto departs a few hours later, at around 12:00pm; a couple of hours break and then a connecting flight (in executive class; finally managed to upgrade) to Vancouver. Should arrive home at around 7:00pm local time, and head directly to the emergency room.</p> <p>Wish me luck.</p> <p>Until the next time,</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-3465864078736509162013-07-30T16:25:00.001-07:002013-09-10T08:42:55.808-07:00Málaga to Gijón to San Sebastián, Spain (July 28–30, 2013)<p>After a few days of easy travel in Spain (I never thought I’ll be writing the words “easy” and “Spain” in the same sentence), there came the time for the grand finale: the longest train‐travel day in the entire tour, which, coincidentally, was also the <em>last</em> train‐travel day in the tour.</p> <p>The (planned; we’ll get to that soon) itinerary: depart Málaga 9:00am, arrive Madrid’s Puerta de Atocha station 11:50am; take the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cercan%C3%ADas">Cercanías</a> (commuter train) to Madrid’s <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madrid_Chamart%C3%ADn_railway_station">Chamartín</a> station; depart Madrid Chamartín 2:40am, arrive Gijón 8:15pm.</p> <p>That’s ten hours and a quarter overall travel, over three trains. Long travel day, crossing Spain from its southern tip to its northern one. The two main train rides involved are high‐speed trains, but the ride from Madrid to Gijón has very slow sections in it due to northern Spain’s terrain.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Feel like having another taste of how difficult it was, at times, to plan for following this tour? buckle your seatbelts.</p> <p>The very last train ride for the tour—from Madrid to Gijón—was also the hardest one to plan (the Málaga‐Madrid leg was planned for and purchased in advance). When planning the tour’s itinerary, Deutsche Bahn’s website showed that a train indeed exists from Madrid Puerta de Atocha to Gijón, leaving 1:55pm. Hence, the schedule should have been very simple: no need to take the Cercanías from one station in Madrid to another.</p> <p>However, for whatever reason, that particular train ride couldn’t be purchased through Germany’s railway company (through Deutsche Bahn, you can book train tickets virtually anywhere in Europe). Also, it couldn’t be booked through Renfe’s website (<em>Renfe</em> is the umbrella company for Spain’s railway carriers). The meaning was simple: you must be present on Spanish soil in order to purchase that train ticket.</p> <p>That particular train ride was a shining red light in the tour’s plan. Maybe at some point I’ll share with you a glimpse of the <em>Google Docs</em>‐based itinerary we had prepared—I consider that spreadsheet a pure mastery; for now, let me just tell you that it was full of green‐coloured cells implying “purchased & confirmed”, but that one last ride was painted red, implying “to be done”. Neither myself nor the Dutchman are fans of things that are “to be done”: I am allergic to procrastination, and that one red‐painted cell felt like a pain in the butt.</p> <p>That’s why, as soon as we arrived at Barcelona, it was decided to get this thing over with (see the post telling the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/saint-julien-en-genevois-to-carcassonne.html">Barcelona story</a>). Even <em>that</em> wasn’t simple. As we asked for the reservation to be made, we were told that the train doesn’t leave from Madrid’s Puerta de Atocha station, but from Chamartín instead, at 2:40pm; we were instructed to take the commuter train between the two stations in Madrid. We tried explaining to the attendant that we had seen, online, that that it’s possible to board this train in Puerta de Atocha; unfortunately, the language barrier was too high for him to even listen.</p> </div> <p>Back to July 28. Woke up at around 7:30am, packed and went downstairs for breakfast. The previous night was a late one, went to sleep close to 2:00am after having farewell drinks with dear Ingrid, so I didn’t really wake up: I was half asleep when I approached the elevator. Door opened, we both went inside. By the elevator’s door, there were two couples who were obviously very vocal and even more obviously drunk. At the last moment, they decided to take the same elevator down.</p> <p>Few things beat spending some time in an elevator with two drunk, vocal couples at 8:00am, before you’re even fully awake. Don’t exactly know who stunk from alcohol more, I think it was the ladies—who were, by the way, not really dressed for breakfast: it seemed like they all just got back from some sort of a party.</p> <p>Ate breakfast like some sort of a robot, often glancing at the drunk foursome who continued their vocal “conversation” in a table nearby. Breakfast done, up to the room, chilled out for a few more minutes and then embarked on the remarkably difficult journey to the train station, consisting of taking the elevator down and going through one set of doors.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>It was worth it to spend the night in a hotel located right at the railway station, even though it was very far from anything that’s interesting in Málaga. Obviously, I’d prefer to stay closer to the beach, but when you’re following a tour, other logistical factors take precedence: the distance from the beach to the railway station is more than 2km, and nobody had any intention walking such distance so early in the morning.</p> </div> <p>Arrived to Madrid’s Puerta de Atocha, and decided to be enterprising: how about asking on‐site staff whether it’s possible to board the next train in this station, instead of taking the commuter train to the other one?</p> <p>Approached the platform and asked the attendant, who then delegated to her colleague. Well, what do you know: yes, it <em>was</em> possible to board that train in this station.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Just think how ridiculous this is: Deutsche Bahn, which is the railway company of a different country altogether, is more knowledgeable in Spanish railway schedules <em>than an attendant working in Barcelona Sants, one of the largest, most prominent train stations in Spain</em>.</p> </div> <p>Why did the attendant in Barcelona not know about it? I have no clue. Anyway, these were good news: no need to take that intermediate train travel.</p> <p>Knowing that the ride was going to be a long one, it was decided to head out of the station and look for lunch. Unfortunately, restaurants appeared to be closed: not surprising as it was a Sunday, around noon time. Went back to the station, found a restaurant. How good can a restaurant, located inside a train station, be? I don’t have good history with such restaurants and the one in Madrid wasn’t an exception. Cheap food that made no sense, but was enough to keep the body going. Killed some more time in the station, and then boarded the train—each of us boarding to a different coach (it was impossible to even explain to that Barcelona Sants attendant that we’re looking for two adjacent seats).</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Last train ride for the tour… what a strange feeling. I still remember having my EURail pass stamped in Milano Centrale, as soon as I arrived there from Milano’s airport, arriving from Belgrade. When the <em>hell</em> was that? WOW. Almost three months ago. <em>THREE MONTHS</em>. Back then, the end of the tour seemed inconceivably distant: and now, there I am, boarding the last train for this tour.</p> <p>All and all, using trains in Europe was more of a positive experience than a negative one. Not much seemed to have changed since I last used it extensively, back in the 2010 Get Lucky tour: same inefficiencies in the same countries, lack of integration… that’s the empty half of the glass. The full half of the glass is that Europe actually <em>does</em> have a working, functioning railway system. It’ll take ages before such a developed railway system will be implemented in North America. I suppose we, North Americans, are bound to continue using cars as the primary method of transportation for the next little while.</p> </div> <p>I had many plans for this long train ride, including doing some writing and slowly clear items off my post‐tour to‐do list. Unfortunately, this particular train didn’t offer power sockets, and my dying laptop battery was enough for a little over two hours. Tried to pass the time playing online chess with a friend, but the ride went through so many tunnels and so many desolate places with no cellular reception, that I eventually got fed up with the intermittent connectivity and just sat in my chair doing nothing but thinking.</p> <p>The ride itself was stunning. At first, it was just more of the same—lots of hills with plenty of trees and small villages; however, once you get north—at around <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le%C3%B3n,_Spain">León</a>, the terrain changes dramatically, offering spectacular natural views rivalling those of, say, Switzerland—although the landscape itself is different. No snow‐peaked mountains here (at least not in late July), and not too many lakes, but the rugged green ridges here are nothing short of awesome.</p> <p>Northern Spain, in that regards, is drastically different than the south and the center. That wasn’t all that new to me: I travelled to northern Spain before, during the 2010 Get Lucky tour, as that tour had a <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-plaza-de-toros-de-vista.html">stop in Bilbao</a>. I remember similar spectacular views when taking the train from Madrid to Bilbao back then, often not believing that I’m still in the same country.</p> <p>Unfortunately, though, I was so busy thinking of all sorts of things; the type of thoughts that really don’t motivate you to do anything, but to the contrary. Therefore, I didn’t even take one single photograph in the entire ride. The Dutchman, however, did; but these turned out very bad due to reflection.</p> <p>Looked at the time: it’s close to 8:00pm already. Fired up <em>Google Maps</em> to see where the train is and how long it should take to get to the destination… not even close. It was close to 9:00pm—approximately 45 minutes behind schedule—when the train finally stopped in Gijón. Door opened. I looked around me. Took a last look at the train’s cabin, realizing that I won’t be riding any train anymore this tour. As always when I leave a train, I went through a list of important items in my head to ensure that I <em>know</em> that they’re with me: laptop? here. Passport? here. Train pass? here, <em>and I won’t be needing it anymore</em>.</p> <p>Left the train, onto the platform and out of the station.</p> <hr /> <p>Like many other cities visited over the last few months, I have never heard of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gij%C3%B3n">Gijón</a> before. The city’s name is pronounced <em>he‐hon</em>, and it’s located at Spain’s very north.</p> <p>The hotel for the next couple of nights, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187451-d609808-Reviews-Silken_Ciudad_Gijon-Gijon_Asturias.html">Silken Ciudad Gijón</a>, is adjacent to the railway station, and both aren’t quite located in the city center. It wasn’t the original hotel pick: the reservation for the original hotel—don’t remember its name—had to be cancelled once it turned out that it doesn’t offer air conditioning.</p> <p>Even though the entire day consisted of sitting inside a train, I was extremely tired upon arrival at the hotel. It was still light outside, but I decided that that’s it for me for the day: going to get something to eat, then call it an early night. Not being quite in the mood to do research about restaurants, the hotel’s restaurant had to do. Overpriced burger, some of which was rare (not the biggest fan of that), went upstairs, shower and bed.</p> <p>The next morning I woke up with all intentions to have breakfast and go out to see the city. A few readers living in Spain mentioned that the city is pretty, as well as its beaches and its harbour. Somehow, though, I got carried away into doing other things. Kept looking at the clock, thinking what time I should be leaving in order to get some sightseeing time, and kept postponing it. I guess that, at some level, I wasn’t too interested.</p> <p>On my way to meet the Dutchman for lunch, about a kilometer away from the hotel, I took a few looks around and couldn’t quite believe that I’m in Spain. Contrary to other places I had seen before in Spain, Gijón is spacious, clean and has a “laid back” feel to it. This city “feels” much more like a small Canadian town than a Spanish one, at least based on my own experience with Spain.</p> <p>And the best thing? the weather. Oh, this northern weather. It’s the end of July, and—lo and behold—you don’t feel like peeling your own skin off when walking the streets here.</p> <p>Met the Dutchman for lunch in a nearby restaurant (as he headed out earlier to explore the city). On my way there, and during the meal, I started feeling some pain in my right wrist, and the pain spread to my entire arm. I can’t really describe just how frustrated I was with all of this: let’s just say that, at that moment, I decided to simply return to the hotel right after lunch and just sleep, hoping that the frustration will go away throughout, and maybe the pain will subside. That completely pushed aside any plans for seeing anything of this city; I was <em>that</em> frustrated.</p> <p>Went back to the hotel and slept for about 2–3 hours. Woke up, not much change in the pain, but at least I was extremely fresh. Some writing, some reading, and at around 9:00pm, took a taxi to the venue.</p> <p>The venue, <a href="http://www.pueblos-espana.org/asturias/asturias/gijon/Plaza+de+la+universidad+laboral">La Plaza de Universidad</a>, wasn’t very easy to locate online. We figured it might have something to do with a square inside a university: but which university? and where exactly, in the university, is that square located? I was later able to reach a high degree of certainty regarding the venue’s whereabouts by using <em>Google Maps</em>’ satellite imagery, showing a large square inside a university located about 7–8km south west of the central railway station. Later, this was confirmed by the hotel’s staff, who already knew that Knopfler is performing in town, “in the university”—implying that, just maybe, there aren’t many universities in town.</p> <p>It is known that, in Spain, people’s ability to communicate in English is very limited. Locals that I have been asking about this subject had one cause to point their finger at—the fact that TV programs and movies are dubbed in Spanish rather than being subtitled, so other than learning English in primary school, people don’t really have much opportunity (or reason) to deal with English in their day‐to‐day lives. Still, in big cities such as Barcelona, you can somehow get by; in smaller, or less cosmopolitan cities, communication in English becomes much more problematic.</p> <p>The nice taxi driver who was misfortunate enough to hail us to the venue tried very hard to start any sort of conversation, only to be stuck after one or two consonants. It was evident that he was somewhat embarrassed. Not sure why: clearly not his fault. He did know, however, exactly where the concert was taking place. Quick ten minutes ride and we arrived.</p> <p>So: the university is called <em>Laboral</em>, and is located far from the city center, so neat hill views are available everywhere you look. To get into the “Plaza” part in “La Plaza de Universidad”, you need to enter through the university’s main gate. Before entering, took some photographs of the surroundings.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIG4gUZp2whHZjO-8xTj98fZK1Xjg2bQdJiNnz1cnUvI6KTAJqaj1MeikcPfRUJbEh79r7deZwROH7Baj5ewzJGUxEowpDc2bcc6kOOoxunziEBLpSpog7oVEkHkcVxHGkWxJk5as-AGIc/s1600-h/IMG_20130729_212953.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130729_212953" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130729_212953" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieGbzvznv2Y_NCk-Q5eYGuRT3jDLVL6GevGpcEBcF68B_T3ia1RV3RBxUA8YqUHnMWxDBmMGrg3uc2wMIGL4K94jGlndTZUcgtSZ9qi_XGIFnKUrKOw9ZdAG4p6LIEJGMYrnrOFSYJzLgH/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNOQ-yU4Yrc591DQpQ6nj11myx7gI6R_HS8LQ2KUSFTGI8YNXm-xTiQU70P69yLbc3b4hlzDrSbRf-rWjqwsFBvBUoktJ4Vbl-K2CiClLANs1xDSNvXk1i1UkkvzCsJ3w8h22r1PpDd7F/s1600-h/IMG_2802.jpg"><img title="IMG_2802" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2802" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqLqdEp1Z_XiCzcU-29jjWmtTx7AvJxJjYAvkBTj1XAdzciIhPRtRSlq-hQGcHXlpaQOks3_3vnWR-VBSV2OcIo88KkdZI9QLO4oW1jKlaovXknyFkAZfx3keaZuaYebLe7173Sa1PYam/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXrV2onb7lsrezKSaALpDO9rUPsEFirf6xinEGUlVeq-QxS0eHn2KNcqCGCtrfjbbaCuww-c-UtN9gLPou2rHcUOD94wfYzEyx3uikqgRfKRWb1it3QZmdfvxznSl26JY75CDnuXHy7wwa/s1600-h/PANO_20130729_213414%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130729_213414" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130729_213414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrrQurs-x83gzm8a_tzWD1ifGRPMv4tmTzBQwqVzBSmXz_bamWoqRLXAV34vY93nHfqUXRXBlUEJysY0YZJl22VEj50AzYlrTlHQdnnzNrIGMJNAOpyAu1VCVcHm6TkRfIlzCwTjO7f1Ai/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="281" /></a></p> <p>It was rather unclear where ticket pickup should take place. Asking around, it turned out that the venue’s box office is inside a hall which I could best describe as a library.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYVmDxuH2sXf6hloZ1CeGVZVIlBMK6UJtInPBtRMOcYn0wfrSsppNy-HsKrmz8SymGC3XVZKnNmlSWRSDWPTkpwVBp5aVgNwUVULBOjSKhhLkhwFUqEj73rNwstFLocgi8hsiM_1OArOfc/s1600-h/IMG_2804.jpg"><img title="IMG_2804" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2804" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4f6EfX1EqMADKBBrmkaOnB8q0L7x5mdcGaXPccET_Ov5fL6WmwfeFMbFE3T9XNd0rLXYKkVHjwtXkyCvu84G6HN7fvjvJH_8YTP9lHAMr8lTKmFA1cfUoqNLN497lf7IhUtnWIrMSjX8/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>From there, access to the square is very easy.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_n4gJgadeVoC-qraMAqvTcS2k-_S0NQCiinJs9QKlacrWAd26KVHOWtuiGlyBxkanvTxASsiJ98nSOrI_zwoTjOW6AfpoFIwLnOXyaCclf1MGuJmG9sAUGU8KNia_D8m0qz_m4nDto9vY/s1600-h/IMG_20130729_214300.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130729_214300" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130729_214300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4U-0hNIgqSzhmEXudU3W5xmTKw7nGAt8_C5hepQoefMi7UmfhLE8xuYMVEf1Ic9zuVZdWVOS2T0gV6g7QcwLA6SCab-Bn3yAcob6JCQqnqz8we18svE_WWv07qudL7axwVNw1NY15xq8/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>This was a general admission standing show, with an early entry privilege for <em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket purchasers—again, it was decided to not take advantage of it. It made more sense to enjoy this concert from the back. Weather was perfect—breezy, at the low twenties—providing for a great general admission concert experience: gone were the heat and the humidity of Barcelona.</p> <p>Hunger, somehow, struck me shortly after the concert started. What do you do in such case? of course, you eat at the venue. Granted, I never expect much from food offered in concert venues. This particular venue sold food and drink out of a huge tent located right in the middle of the square, behind the sound technicians. Approached, and… get this: <em>they ran out of food</em>.</p> <p>You see, there’s always a first. I thought I had seen everything before; I never imagined that a venue, selling food, will completely run out of food (as garbage quality as that food may be), let alone 10 minutes into the concert.</p> <p>(It goes without saying that they didn’t run out of beer.)</p> <p>The audience in Spain’s north is different with respect to loudness. It is loud, but less (though not much) than in, say, Madrid or Barcelona. It was evident that the audience loved the show, but it was also just as evident that people here aren’t in the habit of jumping out of their skins for cheering. People’s temperament, overall, seems to be cooler here than elsewhere (I have been to) in Spain.</p> <p>I wrote it before and I’ll reiterate: this city and its people reminded me more of a Canadian town than a Spanish one.</p> <p>During <em>Postcards from Paraguay</em>, a mishap took place when Ian finished the song one verse too early. For a couple of seconds, it looked as if the band was heading into complete mayhem—even Mark started singing the last verse—but within two seconds, somehow, they got out of it.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Similar events happened a couple of times during the 2010 Get Lucky tour, and really, I’m not sure I fully understand how they avoid complete disaster when such things happen. When you’re used to play a particular song following a certain pattern almost on a daily basis, and suddenly something changes radically (and a premature ending of a song is, undoubtedly, a radical change), it is <em>extremely</em> difficult, for the inexperienced performer, to adjust. First, there’s the element of complete surprise; second, there’s the element of looking at what other band members are doing, to somehow try to end things gracefully and harmonically; and third, you actually have to carry out your unplanned sequence. All of the above has to happen within an exceptionally short duration, as these complications tend to grow exponentially the longer the performance goes without a unified “direction”.</p> <p>As I said before, I don’t know of a band that performs as well as this one.</p> </div> <p>All other songs in the concert were played in full. Great experience.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjavwqFlAqmcXahGh9l8TvCmFdcwQnY9FIodrLZepaFxsWKqBO2DNr-wvNuHC-J5dynxQyEqeHKkS5zApIOlgS15ejh7_m6zSgMaUgb8qajyetYZ9NSNnHLezNC5rPtiZ7L6XtZWTGPgB6j/s1600-h/IMG_2814.jpg"><img title="IMG_2814" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2814" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5-aAhYVRfrTWmr2nlf4q28dmWk5uwiEoC-IprDWQnvRIyJm3JtgiRES1YbfnNjYpn559Rg8jqUd1IeqXtHZNyqGjro5qoSOsFCLK71rJ7wkFbt51NNMbg7WQwgpSidKFH09W9zbeB5mcg/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSaUalFGvGrNQ0BFkqY-wCGOesHrUV-js7hw_meVcuhzQaWG9Wt7JZ3_qwHv1w9SgBgliZmA0b0dkhicYsFO1ok_NmtePLD-Ale2bK5Vci8jq6i1pGIbpDRPCcA93bXdV74o229Qmqwun/s1600-h/IMG_2823.jpg"><img title="IMG_2823" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2823" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoIJeWBbpquPK_xpSw3QrqmhP3OXRpwhC8T3GCDhkIF4UFo-b3bNEZz6FsNPgngxoF-HihotzKaO-RgvuxsGp99rb2pj11sdbO9J2CtEKIq5GFhPJ7ocIaYK5_HG6ucuN8uFOl3IeZlaQ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Out of the venue and now it was time to figure out how to get back to the city center. Horrible memories of the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/nimes-france-to-locarno-switzerland.html">Rome experience</a> crept in. Fortunately, things were quite organized: a few buses were waiting nearby, each one heading to a different destination. None of the buses seemed to head to the railway station. An attendant—positioned right next to the buses (I love it how they’re organized in here)—was very happy to help out despite the evident language barrier. Boarded one of the buses, waited until it was full… 15 minutes drive to the central bus station, and from there it’s a 10 minutes walk to the hotel. Quick sandwich before heading to the room and off for a good night sleep, knowing that, the next day, I won’t be riding any train and will be heading towards a city that many Spanish people consider to be one of the most beautiful cities in Spain.</p> <hr /> <p>July 30. Woke up and realized that this entire tour was going to be over within less than 48 hours. Quick breakfast at the hotel and it was decided to head out early: I wasn’t going to see much of Gijón anyway and I was looking forward to spending as much time as possible in San Sebastián, based on the so many recommendations I have been hearing about it recently.</p> <p>The quickest route between Gijón and San Sebastián takes about four hours, often right along the coast. For the life of me, my English vocabulary isn’t rich enough to describe just how stunning the scenery was along the ride. Green‐covered mountains as far as the eyes can see, and the clear, amazing blue waters of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bay_of_Biscay">Bay of Biscay</a> are often in sight. These views were enough for me to determine that this part of Spain clearly deserves a more in‐depth look in the future. I could easily spend weeks over weeks in this tantalizingly beautiful country.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAF_pTaUT6dL5nJsko3kL0h1btClCAL-91wwdv5Kxyp3U8FJ1RILVIdcFmTVZHNzLGCPXCeIv81KT6STh52wR8OIGgfPVGYuQcqZK3d7hwvWM8eMDHsqHOWTr-nzbSQy7qYDvk3L4FAfVZ/s1600-h/IMG_2824.jpg"><img title="IMG_2824" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2824" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgagZmox5djjsfM_B3seHJHCL02Pyq9wQpHguEqZUNIHoo9nrQ-pNNhtdJVFS3_iYxctZeEh-epjrBc55cDVW0jk6KDnXsTLV-SUnMfD2rr_OlH6rEcVPBfWIFJt6XONgMyomR4QDeTht/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIYJRCPpyLsjblywoH274TfakEEFezgk1WAuk_-kwnzr_dEX-wJQi1jYoEbjwbH5_kJp2qAUJuQXFVVeDrttDjt2ZR3Df4r3AVZ8AVdGMkkUyDKSm0MPPJLZe_v9l_Sf96kWeB7UCD8cwQ/s1600-h/IMG_2827.jpg"><img title="IMG_2827" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2827" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhutFTJ1vnxQIY0L0OxpDabW9Il2AcxR3ZA_YQDIUYmn3WwJlro_hpuPSz46mRtH2K6ootUbfyyjCrJViW9TtJOKDectsKfbXA_9f5piJhysk0IhXEdZLRPcCmcrJjhmSHDiESYwaI6r4xh/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJmBbjOcLHYFkf2v8Nx8B8LqaDnHkvbLfEoLc3qcLqvza0wqyUaHvZTBa2R3gegnIySKTDTJGr0lZXeRRiqh9jN5BqB8na2TLZyFTsh1iJ7zDNXS3ayPIllRyUgC1mdNwQzcriFklL77B/s1600-h/P1060189.jpg"><img title="P1060189" style="display: inline" alt="P1060189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7750NW_Y2o3ESEvAbxRH75U8NK-eEJvY1s7qsOqtlEV7fqNBSLWUPFUejPV9o3pKGQUMaqzs4lHpmMfv3hSON13gzqkiCqoYvPdaR3oYj8kvQB3GjW8Rsnn4xtJGN4MAknuqeXh_oVfLR/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBFMeNE-0LKcZv08EoiNs5wA80Ku8RS30wEuCzzhjbLges7tnZQg_U7B28a3EcP1AMrTq-Db__U58IysTHfOwNxeIH8FgbTed_D4Q9rwwaDw-mRD6CxOgf3LE2CZx9Sci7xsP8Trbi0SV2/s1600-h/IMG_2831.jpg"><img title="IMG_2831" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2831" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFDNavWYltAWkQC3bQNJNY9xWtfM-xc14eMnLPWuvQ8RmZZ3pT0G6cqL_BY2B4JhrIkYiPQD2vtqcbHkp3v9howojbKIdFSlQ9n19JDbBJ7ORE5ucp4zr0Jziv3lCOQO3Pd7Nih5e796As/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The awesome scenery helped the long ride feel shorter. Somewhere along the way, it was decided to look for a place for lunch before the entire country of Spain closes all its restaurants. OK… but where? how do you look for a restaurant when you’re in the middle of nowhere?</p> <p>While driving through the highway, occasionally there were signs showing a symbol of a restaurant, implying that there’s a restaurant nearby. Well, you can never tell by these: it might as well be just a small dirty restaurant inside a gas stop. Still, it was better than nothing. Eventually, I realized that these signs are really the only reasonable guide to get <em>anything</em> to eat around, so I took the exit right into a a town named <em>San Mamés de Meruelo</em>.</p> <p>Needless to say, I had never heard of anything named <em>San Mamés de Meruelo</em> or even close to it. This town seemed to be as close to “in the middle of nowhere” as they can get. Fired up <em>TripAdvisor</em> and it turned out that there’s a very good restaurant just up the road, which is ranked #1 in San Mamés De Meruelo. That is, ranked #1 out of the staggering total of 2.</p> <p>OK… drove a few extra kilometers up the road, following the GPS’ advice. “Arrived at your destination” but where’s that restaurant? oh, there it is. Looked nice from the outside but was uncertain whether it’s even open, so I waited in the car as the Dutchman went inside to inquire.</p> <p>About five minutes later, he was back. Now, you’d wonder why it would take a person (even a Dutch one) five minutes to find out whether a restaurant is presently open or closed. Turns out that the restaurant, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g2569662-d2518951-Reviews-La_Yaya-San_Mames_de_Meruelo_Cantabria.html">La Yaya</a>, is of the more fancy ones, requires reservations and was going to open its door fifteen minutes later. The reason for the delay, then, was that the Dutchman actually had to go about making a reservation, as the restaurant is usually fully booked for lunch.</p> <p>They also had daily menus: three course meal for €13.</p> <p>Reservation was made, and we had a few minutes to kill before entering.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim_B7fBBzOSB5HDO5R8_iBQjBDSwIflJi0kvRHnX4EKJouO2OA-BHV9AmgGWXIuXzib-L-8t02jSsRddyIZzoVbrlV4AFXGTnaRhzgEam7xq5fQyXKGC_U1YQE8LmkAJxdVJfDZ8LbQpnV/s1600-h/IMG_20130730_131950.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130730_131950" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130730_131950" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWj4q3s92gckymwynd5w6j4chBGaCFu4ODKGlpJTARx05U3F6nCNEGJNhQqPovdy_9Hqu4gd1QJ6K2I1y5hq-BxkXT6obNUi0YFUevbUMcj2wBd-6M1uJo8s1rux3MsOLG7B2OCvFZfNLC/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7-iU_M5WURO1VA1zcT-KnKuX5z3r-3gfwCdRMMu8KGq4mcEcHMZvhL7z6mpTGxxeytDcIxHJQbmSlVDijibuK4nfeqVYWVhD0MJOgDer9rQNqLzIOXvBsKwO9dTmb3nHEU_euIDEyYJZ/s1600-h/IMG_20130730_132057.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130730_132057" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130730_132057" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9IboPlApEtN0D7HuAJgtjljIgRZddtzfjTkvrP5930jXPM2AKlo8THuueRHhSBikfyp1v6zCOgZkKNfyg8XIiME-2W6stxn1hnatOGP4YSITv1n9ENZvlh3AC92InqPzGFCgEU2aDX5P/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg40axjh-T1NysFXmOEFZoPZZTprvHGCn8K7AFkDCieeqWO66tsRQQRzTL4uywxrJo4sxtEKudmbxa4tEBNnAAyIEmYeu5lBNOygu1Z40JrzbTDe1o0zWcxbJoSzbhHsQiKaO26Htkr6cF2/s1600-h/IMG_20130730_132113.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130730_132113" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130730_132113" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-xsJs-H6KFWg-VOMin9Cgx4EsaX5f0AN7MjQLBGnII49MxOAwOLmIvghblD3xIAvk9I_GjK6K5ShGIYwnaN_minuH7H56Gk55RwNUndE5gEffrbET0oaAwRDoRBjnbh05va6p0XVJEuTb/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-Sj3eY9PyJPFc0ILh47C5rI6DhBBJv4WnuWNAUQr_xFfUUOSiZDOhVOSL8B7g0ZFiXRRWqnsXfbY-UEJUyM6GreCEj1ceI1fHiaaQBS1GHu-UDfyC17RwmdqOI4XRTOd3SxYf7mGxXg7/s1600-h/IMG_20130730_132521.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130730_132521" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130730_132521" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAMCECViY52kOnPeh2PyIzH7cCpqH9p6oZtfq87eRyhiS4ZM6Yw0d34tZH8qbH289aDy1GRAZ-8g2TIfsfOveZ33c6aVnv1FMd6-bufgr4mwRQBmpGw5b4hygy3FibnDZKdpGqX3CKMJYW/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>So far, the best meal in the entire tour was consumed in a restaurant in Siracusa, <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/napoli-to-taormina-italy-july-15-16-2013.html">on the day‐off before the Taormina concert</a>. That one was as unexpected as they can get: stepping into that restaurant in Siracusa, would have never guessed that the experience would later unfold to be the best dining experience in a three months tour.</p> <p>It happened again. I am proud to announce the second best meal of this tour so far: it took place right here in San Mamés de Meruelo. The food—just like in Siracusa—was simple, unpretentious; and just as it was simple, it was absolutely fantastic.</p> <p>At some point, we were wondering whether the Dutchman was right about the price of the daily menu: it was possible that they meant to say “30” and said something that sounded like “13”. Where on earth would you get such a great meal for €13? impossible.</p> <p>But no, it wasn’t a mistake. The bill arrived, clean €26. Even the (bottled) water was free.</p> <p>If you’re ever in San Mamés de Meruelo, go visit that restaurant. Once you’re done eating, send me an email and let me know why you had to visit San Mamés de Meruelo in the first place.</p> <hr /> <p>About an hour and a half spent in that restaurant; time to go. Started the car and drove non‐stop towards San Sebastián. The destination: <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g2047732-d3411875-Reviews-Hotel_K10-Urnieta_Guipuzcoa_Province_Basque_Country.html">Hotel K10</a> in Urnieta, about 10km south of San Sebastián. The reasons had to do with logistics:</p> <ul> <li>Hotels in San Sebastián turned out to be very expensive. </li> <li>The concert venue was far from San Sebastián’s city center anyway. </li> <li>Being in the possession of a car, we were no longer bound to stay in city centers, or close to public transport hubs. </li> <li>The next morning, we’d have to drive south anyway. It made sense to stay somewhere along the highway south of San Sebastián, to save time battling with rush hour in the morning. </li> </ul> <p>Arrived at the hotel, checked in, left luggage in the room and immediately fled the scene. Back to the car and headed north towards San Sebastián’s city center, after getting some advice from the hotel’s receptionist who seemed to be very enthusiastic to talk about San Sebastián, calling it a “very beautiful city”. So far, everybody who’s ever been there was claiming that San Sebastián is pretty; it goes without saying that I was really looking forward to see it.</p> <p>From the hotel, it’s about 20 minutes drive to San Sebastián’s city center. Approaching the city center, a quick look around was enough to determine that this place is clearly a gem. Found a parking garage, which happened to be located right next to the beach; car parked, took the stairs up, and, two seconds later, realized that I’m in the most beautiful Spanish city I had seen so far, and one of the most beautiful places I have been to in Europe.</p> <hr /> <p>I have never heard of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Sebasti%C3%A1n">San Sebastián</a> before reading the tour’s itinerary (by the number of cities I had never heard of before, I’m starting to get the impression that maybe I should brush up on my knowledge of Europe at some point. I’m way more ignorant about it than I originally thought).</p> <p>The two main beaches in the city face the <em>Bahia de La Concha</em>, with the gorgeous <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santa_Clara_Island_(San_Sebastian)">Santa Clara Island</a> visible from everywhere.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wy39PG0ebxB-62pSRDn8N73aHXNuuowbjO7m0NV168BSfkx_1tRxbdjqr89c6-JDV2VEUjIRyjL2XvPZcCGaURraMTpFieWo_gsFvMU7t6MNF167_rAMDpQaao_KuSWw1_VpUjb-MVGj/s1600-h/P1060190.jpg"><img title="P1060190" style="display: inline" alt="P1060190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiemdsdikupNKfxjTBb6J9nSStoGED6NM-f2-6h5L1AmkwpELR9nPwpBadaWO2TmbNhyzyf2RAHy3lKVZdfyAR4Mf5jeEjcig5vA_iADUIilx_6_Hm8XqqY8dILmFFA8NcAsSXtIbESe7qt/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfN5l9CZVfXk7KN34KkCg7lWFyQPuS0stZcqlpZYe6D5t-O3mQqVRFhD84TNel7xSyFHava1iMjwT90q07l8ErxEJGe6tPw4YEByJfUldKMvsDSt-fLuajWWAfocbEnVUfnBSwVPML92Mr/s1600-h/P1060191.jpg"><img title="P1060191" style="display: inline" alt="P1060191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXpMkKFHFt-eiP70CLc46w-GNg6LPyVaStaMtKWoHw44BHdXgVoRqHnJlZsgyNp9jxDHeKDRdpScx7whK_26p_2hAvxkxBeO0lP8SgoczKvK7rrum-_UatMTqnHh_c2Mvcw9Vc-kyhyphenhyphenUwO/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-LpqCkxPWskffUraZK421pbWVz3PuVtniPYVP5pkQxgNm5lQEeu4dGe0WH9pAISWht2GR2mOMEHGyc42TUl3tBOfSQMKU8ZfIDuOwNDPHhU9-Ve0xxIpKGaHxbjKWhf_aYPH5etCMig9I/s1600-h/P1060192%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1060192" style="display: inline" alt="P1060192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmfgQ3GO2rImP1x5YKwxnOcnIgHUCF5ydyqQPdoqh0Hg4Nmfpou7dzasw2IZs3Z6ZzdSEOSX4TF06IJ9CcFXTTXtTDFF3BRpRDw4Ak-h2139ZaLkJtMJ5el8W3bDSm4lZmeauq4eS8-c8b/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>Continued walking east towards the old city area. The old city area is very pretty and ridiculously touristic.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg56NYJU-kCDF0W5Vem5ZVUalT9HGeP_uxNMQdZJQi8pdrVDJEwUy9z1R-A0oY39gAgHMDNoWnfs1BDw7F2cf6hXgm85Lg-RLuiUtQeP_XsP6jnRefNoXESXg5VxlKnyb4qWV3l1bq1Ach9/s1600-h/P1060193.jpg"><img title="P1060193" style="display: inline" alt="P1060193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5kboU5dGl09m_NOFr-zukILBsDzguhomjAOnVFfkkE5RjHZInWjujpgecmockdI4ORN84UiX1AM4Y5vtnaRrbouCqoAwsIBN_l55N6pPU_kn3IJj8Lf45849wpWtd7xbDj9nWPrh3l9Xj/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPB5U9kna3F9IRRuEjilcqurZgQBhZWczugf_8QrTBiV8NYiaUqJyjptJhDjZbZy8hNbCoLlp7MLnPXPCP9qpQvfGp_lywVazEisCeH-g1kx40iwYz5eofONFb1cxWOVQgqCrPmvAosPKt/s1600-h/P1060194.jpg"><img title="P1060194" style="display: inline" alt="P1060194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3qbC0R_1zUL2DjrChnvgMlgrAPpR1js2inO0Av0bz_mCBQ-tnmhWL61qKqXPmq-n3QeSQ5e7EWU4iqhrJ81jD4cscd3Ss7AMa8sCbvpP-Cr1KwUOYJdNsy5kwWU-lAieo-N62_qcNOWy/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcgOlRAmwWtOtXIbWC1CtabGXrJmFIVLgjXD8ZV7BMJvLftkMREkjYMCTxmqLiln1q9b9_A_Rq9wsYbHf7Nf5r_44bdwgYPKX_TAcqoIH8tCIDjTO86ZGg1I34NGXBV3iroW3ZrmDIr2-/s1600-h/P1060195.jpg"><img title="P1060195" style="display: inline" alt="P1060195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRI8e8oPaQzhWjV8_YfbF0WhkfntMGlYDKAIZ6WWXuyFz8Wmz463T4tsIJ-VQ-H1pqPtD-jonfkYGLOU9havV3SCd26EVdd-GPZHNIrL49ljslTic5fTPgBpoHfbVzu8-0pLbSZO3pADKV/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>After crossing the old city, there was the water again—now looking to the other beach in San Sebastián, more frequented by surfers.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju1nTIkyMv1dTXfEU4E40ho737DGf6WC7HwEuNbsM8Jvq3gxN1W4EY0VmzVPHbtUP7mknO9iIqpRowhx9l1Wo4YhEaAhrpmQCNx-ZFSXa8-dbKzWfhBxQTP2K1lARaadymlaCVBf_M0Jjf/s1600-h/P1060196.jpg"><img title="P1060196" style="display: inline" alt="P1060196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKW0Io6i5LR1SRXwi4X5lCL6570Ezcn0VAAGmn4cLP954IT7pJRn7No82T8R4-Ij8fgquxbpRzcTaGqEd3QZBbc4AtuhHGDDQToIDUkIaAy7IypDVpI2sKfguzlFu76vMcxYIGPuU58lQ4/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFtF_V9CTNvSAsHdT2csezfNcuCtnnu-VoiDnrGSDsgGRe_ti_w99mvOKBmP-suuO4KJ0r1rGG0Sgl5p8NxCJw9Bi06035NJG4n_wkry-H4GAqybW1D-piICNNNCwEfD_EAWuftn3o3nYK/s1600-h/P1060200.jpg"><img title="P1060200" style="display: inline" alt="P1060200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNxUJUotUefSNfG_6zx_gVwuiI98KXM8K-GMbWq-QIQC-yYeDQOG5NCr2MziB9D2MC6h0LxejiNzkvuCi9rHYy0hA9URAEJXzH1rFqPECuTDn2QppgDPGbmVI3n5CTXFOIi27xf1JaQY-/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>If only it was possible to look at all of this from above… oh, wait. It <em>is</em> possible. It was very warm, but nothing to deter me from walking up a steep incline. I will let the pictures do the rest of the talking.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_XlN0QtOHr00-uQpaajV2mUhG6s6udAcpP1F3ySfxqno0f12Ejmtuoul2_QU9052tjhAzB_zZPpfNx71Zpg26vto5VMFtW5B9afS65KhyvNdcuZDhpGGIN9J9QOC3Io6U6GJLQc8Ttp-/s1600-h/P1060203.jpg"><img title="P1060203" style="display: inline" alt="P1060203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQTXHq2-j3k1REDW65wuiMCiQw2pVUeW2rsTaTXa8HDn11LW4yi17DJhEH6hwhTzBROvyVuRtBZp-tQHvnriAPaD5hLdp9A0ZN828Do1ThL626hV2VURuWEqGBfwD2m5wORyZ0arac1kAq/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKCSpQDbhX9-DxC9P0sCE-f-Mf0csYp7kb2VO4JPyUt4Ep2Q1SvlnEMBeHzoZ9bE1x3_X7Q1EhkaeSb0RnwSndcuMv-MKQJPbEG7jOy1gOl-LRXl6TI1kFvE41RgfQx19-8yC4lg2bTMOx/s1600-h/P1060204.jpg"><img title="P1060204" style="display: inline" alt="P1060204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivYMK2ipNCtiKyZ88uTiGjAd51PXokxpOUSnctiAtUXvIX6l5Bi3k_cXiYDNqmkrjSy_qi46Ii_fyBSxiVoDOEOxWMV-Q34W_Skl1qYLL9HzPAQ07WSuSh0RPw2jfA_mBnNBNeWuRkFdmH/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBHrlAt15dfk_rx4d-xKag9W2wJJrBdzjX3Z7dOc__5vm7xNE7FoJGhgtLWYMUL7S2SGzYmFoxTvYUeYd7egbhuOX9LbvRlBc2d61-l6VQvv6txZeNk6_bgXMn2H7f8-Yag7QqfQDRyJe/s1600-h/P1060212.jpg"><img title="P1060212" style="display: inline" alt="P1060212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ8mRlfeOvrh_0wFlEGrOrQ8Uo0vge2m_m6p7BvIhEVqOJG3vo647Z3Af66sLDAqG1qmFsbIDIOdIW3WpihqH4bfFXXnV25sX0QPl5ekVrlQK1Exj0dBLJuJ7nWqWeXEU8bmg6fU2XtMwB/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>And, of course, a panoramic one (not sure why the leftmost part appears as if skewed upwards… I tried taking that shot multiple times, and it always ended the same. Deal with it):</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjisGI2obUEU10dhnG1VdUcjlptDCk3JmIsLLpjIhQbiur7YpKjf2qoRqbycpU_9-7CP5fvb-wJWPJoyRRDEsReFpspBnlHI_5rIo0EEoOpNNVb2daIChzoYz4o5_LK29AkE423dtpwL-HO/s1600-h/PANO_20130730_183309%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130730_183309" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130730_183309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeWCwh2sKk0wP-zmPmmiEv5bBqTRLyANuDHIX0Rl9j-q-sZus4jrEnjjNJGGLti63O37IjYwMvuD5sgHnjuIQiw3fPXY7dV5oXpfmb_pZcfUCtCxRhlKrIjnQWpelN02MEqwB9NUuJ7hmC/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="158" /></a></p> <p>Found another path, kept walking up…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXEdFuf1PvkWnvrdrJtbwo5oITLUrARnxfNLKKjFCgJYKQ_PkC_Ag2qH1wey99JeutDyweg1EFnj2VXaI6jBjHnqrvDcMD_yd5iZqRxU6GJZGxFJzrsuEAFnLpLhnIwIWC8t-bFHWm08by/s1600-h/P1060216.jpg"><img title="P1060216" style="display: inline" alt="P1060216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMhSuORwSzIdTyOrrXyPn18_mcf9YyPs3-eKqJ_NsiUW9Dv83yOLeN_GHEtGrrOKucG-dqYcleliA68tKrq5sg_tj0nm2KawWMvGDjCQBet8o4tcGACcZNUAhoUEaKj8PE9tnaPzcaXQVr/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKOfFLAcjN-usGJZBG5BjxcWCGoQAfs9HYkmhUNAhgcJSaQ31g6V_P5vG8UU4jMuZGQIBFBHv3Kmg-dlYJIq97rmoiAN_MIYDcrp345E1ZnI6LPpp3CGY0t7mY17J1x8NqgnCNhWOHHN9/s1600-h/P1060218.jpg"><img title="P1060218" style="display: inline" alt="P1060218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPuNVY6zHOMPl0n2FbX1uL26d1fXR1NeFG7Atla6yh99A4LJglynwvDx3Bu_OxXo2INhfhPfh5zar-DUrvofY6mjP8jFnLtiPzWOupuGbrLru4FFvV4boL_O61oUDRETaLte1Rc07i_kZW/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Indeed, this city <em>is</em> a gem: complete different from anything else I had seen in Spain so far in my life. No photograph could possibly do justice to the immense natural beauty of this place.</p> <p>Walking down, hunger struck again. Everyone I was talking to about San Sebastián mentioned the term <em>Pintxos</em> as a must‐eat thing there. A <em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pincho">Pintxo</a></em> (sometimes written <em>Pincho</em>) is northern Spain’s version of the <em>tapa</em>. Typically, these consist of one or two miniature slices of bread, plus an arbitrary selection of ingredients, all held together with a toothpick or a skewer (the word <em>Pincho</em> in Spanish means “spike”). A <em>pintxo</em> may or may not contain bread: the term, essentially, is used to describe any sort of a very small dish. As long as there’s a skewer holding things together there, it’s a <em>pintxo</em>.</p> <p>San Sebastián’s old city area was full of bars offering those, which, naturally, raised the question how on earth was I going to go about picking the right one. <em>TripAdvisor</em> suggested a place called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187457-d1418671-Reviews-Bar_zeruko-San_Sebastian_Donostia_Guipuzcoa_Province_Basque_Country.html">Bar Zeruko</a>, which turned out to be closed for another 15–20 minutes once we got there. No problem. A quick walk around the city and a visit to the cash machine, then back, and the place was open.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFOgRJzMgNLuers2wfmJ4w9s6WFGLs9UzLLFuSnTdsrM9VBLlgV42QwJpUw4CrZpDvmNCLox9HW1KuoECrHfh2bdYIidPySEoFYoa7SQR_Rf8P19ux2aDK3zf0cNqpWOKOjc1vfj4gzo0/s1600-h/IMG_20130730_193251%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130730_193251" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130730_193251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQiG6tu3Pfi4kYyjjSsq1Z0iqbncNZrd4uuEvSm2nOQEaUuV1eUzoExkb5FXEIWOCpo-Le8opMRMeqIgiro4gJem-FzTISdV_BMWiBJK8auINQxRjJoToOwlkit_tDhQP-j9eR65yhP_Ls/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5PRamBpmHKHI_UXaX1UYVILW9GK5BDsfQMa4zR2QwcaHtl0UjynUABsIBqIcpWc6lapsjara6jEAxM2_uY7KgA9RfzSKrYWjn8XHMm46MLlZWKUpmpkeJ8C1R0hmbn8RZZES95KjixUV/s1600-h/IMG_2865.jpg"><img title="IMG_2865" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2865" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYFVY8vORxqEn_rxEK3FYWB8V3nq2f5t4G0bJtSTWaPcYs_75swe3sNCK7WdKl79diE8TYpHMpKCCX9C-j4K9zQ-Hlczo1S7DrQK1J2PeKkiAZvzTfkdz2tX39bLFhlAPSOmHPJOsKVYDp/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It took the place about two minutes to be almost completely full of people. Only a few tables to dine on, and if you don’t have a table—no worries, you are invited to just stand next to the bar and eat. The deal: you pick items (with your hands), put them on a plate, and then hand it to one of the people working there. They heat whatever needs heating, give you the rest, and bring the heated items to your table once they’re done.</p> <p>So much variety, but, what can I tell you… heavenly. Had I not had plans to attend some concert played by some band later on, I’d probably sit there for another hour or so. If you are ever in this part of the country, give those <em>pintxos</em> a shot. Once you do, I guarantee that you will no longer want to hear anything about traditional tapas again.</p> <p>Back to the city center…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDKqN162B7vrVcS5WER7D4c1KxyeAcNvkIhlaHQ2GlPCkkBS7UO0uzO6_KM17mZa5qnjw1wkcac5dm-S9FHTo9PQhlopgCyQYjP9MbwSr4Zl45WtZE14TAM1juxAS8k3KVcFKPLzj3wMIh/s1600-h/P1060219.jpg"><img title="P1060219" style="display: inline" alt="P1060219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTr8zIG0zpve7KtGE35sWY-370tGxl47wsaidWUNI38pXcRDUTOAEu5p4moo5qKeVSxBnyNRXz6Q30HPasr1ghdCkkG0j0sw6x-VwHKieVk-2PvReDkMU3z4NxOOWGxLZcPW3jDuOCjK0t/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ4QfUBtcCk2bS0YLX-H648GCHhjiLaBGWRxBIJ9bioDhGfX_wEhXBGJRXoEVrtv8UfmTjGEDZPJUOZPbZx7MAATjx_AUwYuDwOLwAawbwF4R81cw3w6Pkg5v02ke09JPKX9-BPnNL2O5s/s1600-h/P1060220.jpg"><img title="P1060220" style="display: inline" alt="P1060220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghvHe2A1bGYjpGhv2B8Edx7V4bzM9ILbtXZ2KCQvuFMnBrryIre2goeuOHC8LYVI3QiVmEfH8xsOqdVWpy865LX1jEATTealkxj_MPax3iE5zQPrlkO0JVb4d2FdT5BfX3nzVRvZFpZbJS/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUxrWH-COWXgMikJhIDukwJdM-wuYvC-3c0yiyfz2qzRpHuy7SeijEHwaXS7dZYR14YDM9E3L2GPnDauNjTt5B_bjB6DOhsnuI8Q1z34R0aX6huNgslNj5Awzxfc_TcxVBTZSp9qJjZ0o/s1600-h/P1060221.jpg"><img title="P1060221" style="display: inline" alt="P1060221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgrevpaXbm2VOGOjm1NNYQ-8iZWK3XJ5uVVBdwLXuX6nPuupmtAwow2k2eWXoLjzmA217ygZ7oFHDz2iWmG5tMpFCmld7Euz6wiuMfB62lQbUjfCLEQM9OtN6QBStRysspXk_RuHgJ-vJF/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Tried for a low exposure shot…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE4Lq2qBqtjGt-v0O3wpZ2pidnrEKilp_m9Cx_QqK7GnFJDc1V_mXCh0JZXA1ROd5vZQNmkrc71iNXzF03G7QADKKTqsMy6ahH-HNj9Mm4W2V9hhc2c_TtlKsoRK8kvmxB7gr-3B3lQI_9/s1600-h/P1060224%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1060224" style="display: inline" alt="P1060224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuVmzSk_WZJ04hPu3SmoNi7yircQ850hoyP-hP6gm_NLACq2KHMtiSW1xERVv7pIx9VNg5Sh_h4MmDSUptCtxNvl7lcDaUCSC8FPmKg8njUq3ymjLXsOSZ-_bL9kILAk0Wxl2wLpWVnt2/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>A few last photographs (I promise)…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-9aRTZy1sblnvf5iFyb1x_bydCUEkEwpa8jAAt-tIUBXyek-M-rwExVou_Y_D90bNCW5sw-9LLgBQguDfDrW2tDpAS0xyPOAXLRtf_mibzgnaswX2zNlmuSUajb-N4rElNkp8foC2LLr/s1600-h/P1060226.jpg"><img title="P1060226" style="display: inline" alt="P1060226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRPpDFEEXs893OzMK-XHdUTxpXGdx0OtA32rQpQ2pfeZbJgKkeJNU4w7wi0VAJ7edvdwdAK7HAQQHh1hyphenhyphen19FvFh4vsukM6amP5L94WPpR_U47OXd9-af53a8lfKGvdBWR5siAlAhj_7rTO/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivhhTr3MKbvXdNB3g8WzqTvSfUHeRtwCWz-Ttow_QbtV8NHT7aYpkQ6kk_u0FKYsmbYVR-g4StewfZejjj_UWP_QcfRG5fjTErsMMcr9UnETtdE_M81KGTWY2iWfVY4cCEJ7v_wX5mFh9t/s1600-h/P1060228.jpg"><img title="P1060228" style="display: inline" alt="P1060228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJi8MmXa44DPZrIhwEj9tQCCUvQJOu90jLtwbk1KuJoRiWo9p7wPPJXeK1OF30dLSt5I2OEHKBhv9P__3DgF5kcDDFcCTj8QvAr2hubJyKXM0rRW6fvBdk9qjf70-tBeHcHgyGEbkjJZuu/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… and back to the parking lot, heading to the venue. Took a few minutes to the GPS to find itself, but still, it was a short ride to the venue. Upon noticing the venue on the right, it was decided to park the car nearby, rather than head to the venue’s parking lot: this is based on past experience with getting out of venues’ parking lots after a show. Found a parking spot nearby and walked for about 10 minutes to the venue.</p> <hr /> <p>The venue, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plaza_de_Toros_de_Illumbe">Plaza de Toros de Illumbe</a>, is a bullring with a retractable roof. Grabbed the tickets and went inside.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcR2X_9hzN78-77xk-F4kG7LDoVAHpr7aSpA_9f67G6xmaOQNxGPsbV6SGMzDV7CZfjNBMs0lQ4y026cBD0w74ucXSCseWTYZfkGinU3doYoUjhKtZ36v9OvvQ74aB01ZA1ZFixokZpVSy/s1600-h/IMG_2868.jpg"><img title="IMG_2868" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2868" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjcXL9Eh7F8bAGLlc9C8dX5IxdB2o1aIeD4hZAztzDHTFZSN6NPBMqL_jCo6DmJqz8ukJSJLWHAVRvG22tfPLwQG8nSy6iIGOAyM3MHUOFiuP2fFOmGH3Xx16qyCaFiVifMuMGjefGyw5n/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The concert was still 30–40 minutes ahead. Spent some time chatting with familiar people who made it to San Sebastián, as well as with a few readers of this blog who came by to introduce themselves.</p> <p>Concert started a few minutes past schedule and was a very good one. During the concert, multiple references were made to the previous concert’s incident of Ian prematurely ending <em>Postcards from Paraguay</em>: during the band’s introduction, Mark introduced Ian and added “… who will be playing this song all the way through tonight”, eliciting lots of laughter from whoever knew what he was talking about. When it was time for the song’s last verse, Mark turned back, pointing a finger to the air (gesturing the number “1”) and called towards Ian “one more”. When it was time to conclude the song, Ian turned to Guy and asked him, jokingly, “… now?”.</p> <p>The song was performed, indeed, all the way through.</p> <p>After the concert, ten minutes walk to the car, another 10 minutes ride to the hotel… a long, <em>long</em> shower and a good night sleep.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel’s lobby in Llafranc, in Costa Brava. Will upload this and head out to catch tonight’s concert, which will also be the last.</p> <p>The last post of this blog will be posted later on tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-3027412491778149862013-07-28T17:30:00.001-07:002013-09-10T08:40:54.407-07:00Barcelona to Madrid to Málaga, Spain (July 26–27, 2013)<p>During the 2010 Get Lucky tour, the tough travel in Spain—then, also, the last leg of the tour—was a major contributor to my exhaustion and my inability to enjoy anything in this interesting, wild country. This tour, however, travel in Spain is (at least planned to be) relatively easy. The rest of Europe—the convenience of travel in Germany; the total and utter awesomeness of Switzerland; the drama of Italy; the passionate nonchalance of France—is behind me: time to face Spain again and try to make amends.</p> <p>The first all‐Spain travel was an easy one: depart Barcelona 11:00am, arrive Madrid 1:45pm. Less than two hours of train travel, one single train ride, although in 2<sup>nd</sup> class (for some reason, 1<sup>st</sup> class seats weren’t available for reservation for this particular train).</p> <p>Nothing to rush for whatsoever in the morning of July 26. Woke up late, headed for a good breakfast at the hotel—the standard for hotel‐provided breakfasts in Spain is very good; almost as good as Italy’s and far, far better than France’s—and then off to the nearby metro. A few stations and there’s Barcelona Sants again: all travel arrangements done already, it was good to know that I don’t have to deal with inefficiencies here. Baggage up on the conveyor belt for security check and boarded the train.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I am not sure whether this applies to high‐speed trains or all trains in Spain, but at least for the high‐speed ones, boarding these trains isn’t as simple as it is in other countries. Just to enter the platforms’ area, you need to have your ticket checked and scanned, and then put your luggage through an X‐ray machine, much like in an airport. Once done, you enter the departures area; and before boarding the train, you have your ticket checked and scanned once again.</p> <p>Once on the train, though, there is no ticket inspections.</p> </div> <p>The train ride between Barcelona and Madrid is scenic, however not scenic in the “Switzerland way”: you won’t see great snow‐covered mountains and turquoise lakes. Instead, you’ll see endless ranges of hills with patches of green, occasionally dotted by very small communities.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHyEBvg3gYHzHtGHFUmlxaFgVOwl-bq5uqJm3iwFd0zmR9bfidZ0ulJMcUss5fyjDPXNS3laKMZcacZPtUlaNgMO9frZY62ZaE2ZmPxX-DGZYsHl2foiJPKFEaAQ_nScMm6CPbJcstfO7l/s1600-h/IMG_2697.jpg"><img title="IMG_2697" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2697" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI5_ump3Typyj37zL95cNEtgO7S0WfCKGVPU038ajmmdO2SEsZI_KZJuouhrHTMe4xuk1ppm_TGYjDmGBNUQ0PBnE7FnazsTYzW-WfJeJ20WhBeXW22mDxFtCA6koFAh1WK46v3rpfWLec/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzsOe5aoW82zoSknq3WZIz9b9bVEk0jyfecyHNs6Ny5AYk_KRf293KlYR4B6KubAOMKWwarujUYrEWpZSPkkke4Vq87dyK7MCN7CE61OZUJTpmB5JWe8dmg5BbMHzRvoFKA61rrb2zfaCM/s1600-h/IMG_2698.jpg"><img title="IMG_2698" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2698" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBXUvYB5w3rocAHxGqxDVXeIh8vWZKnJqNfOaNuY-OFM1qn848FHusHml_SC2YuVdz_Z39tktxEQMM_EvY1GTk7wgxS2gGNn5bFNS0UAySDUYrtFjcHHlYo-d9B9HWxFCZw7UrVz3S8IUy/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Arrived in Madrid’s <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madrid_Atocha_railway_station">Puerta de Atocha</a> station on time. This train station is the largest one in Madrid—took 15 minutes walk just to get to the exit. Sorry, erase that: not “the” exit. “An” exit. Somehow found myself walking in the station’s top floor, and from there, I discovered (by complete accident) a flight of stairs leading all the way down to the street level. That was fine: the hotel for the night, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187514-d1768628-Reviews-AC_Hotel_Atocha_by_Marriott-Madrid.html">AC Hotel Atocha</a>, was located two minutes walk from that side exit. The area itself didn’t seem to be very exciting, featuring many old buildings and shops, but the hotel looked like some sort of a modern blob in that landscape.</p> <p>So, this hotel is a part of the Marriott chain, and its ridiculously low price (comparing to other Marriott hotels and considering its quality) leads me to believe that something is not quite right in Spain’s tourism industry. One of the best hotel rooms in the tour: modern design, spotless, has everything you need in it, all looking brand new.</p> <p>The best thing about this room was, though, the shower: it was a “rain shower” installed directly on the ceiling and pouring massive amounts of water on whoever is the lucky individual standing beneath it.</p> <p>The worst thing about this room was the shower’s door, which was almost entirely transparent.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I ran into more than a few oddities with hotel rooms during this tour, as well as past ones. You can easily tell a “designer hotel” when you step into one. Hotels compete with each other on many parameters, including rooms’ design, which leads a few designers to take some interesting decisions.</p> <p>A transparent shower door may be a good fit for a couple, but makes things tricky when two unrelated individuals share a room.</p> <p>As odd as the transparent shower door was, nothing beats what we came up with while planning this tour. It was a <em><a href="http://www.citizenm.com">CitizenM</a></em> hotel but I can’t remember in which city; it featured a shower located <em>right in the middle of the room</em>, of course with completely transparent doors. <em>CitizenM</em> dubs itself a “boutique hotel chain”, but I’d say that a shower located right in the middle of the room is a bit too “boutique” for me.</p> </div> <p>Madrid is an interesting city. <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-plaza-de-toros-de-las.html">I was here before</a> during the 2010 Get Lucky tour, and back then, didn’t even have time to see much of what this city has to offer, but from what I <em>did</em> get to see, I got the impression that it was but the tip of the iceberg. A reader of this blog, a nice fellow by the name Alberto, was kind enough to suggest a guided trip through Madrid’s best sights; unfortunately, I was way too tired and too irritable and decided it’d be best (mostly for others) if I just disconnect for a while and chill out in the hotel room for as long as humanly possible.</p> <p>As this is Spain, and my memories of Spain consist mostly of being starving to death, lunch seemed like a great idea. A quick search in <em>TripAdvisor</em>, cross‐referenced with a recommendation by the hotel’s receptionist, led to a place called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187514-d844414-Reviews-Bodegas_Rosell-Madrid.html">Bodegas Rosell</a>, conveniently located right by the train station and less than one minute walk from the hotel. It is a family‐run business that dates way back, and is frequented by locals and foreigners alike.</p> <p>I am almost ashamed to admit that, until this visit to Madrid, I have never before had tapas in Spain—including the two weeks I spent in Spain during the 2010 Get Lucky tour. Sounds ridiculous, I know.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Not a first for me. In 2003, I went for a short trip to Nova Scotia, exploring the stunning Cape Breton Island. I stopped by one of the restaurants there, best known for serving fantastic lobsters pulled out of the ocean right behind that restaurant. I still remember the waitress’ stunned look when I asked for a chicken sandwich.</p> </div> <p>Well, as I said: this time, I’m making amends with Spain. Just opened the menu, and without much consideration, the Dutchman and I just started shooting names of tapas at the waiter. The end result: a wonderful tapas meal. I almost cried: <em>I’m in Spain and I’m eating properly</em>. I thought this moment will never come.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOKXgBwNNKNGVZWb8rtmNc24veLTqEdQWXC-Run2Y-eN8Q3X3BlXRc8B6Z_uLtV1_dBU1x2Otb9eZBymfLNDBXpgKwb8XqRqfAqGPASnMovE7gfgCmWrTkN4nSvjLhtvOu-_VTxYISPIti/s1600-h/IMG_2702.jpg"><img title="IMG_2702" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2702" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjewP_F_MrAcwwV5mB38WK9bZZSCLdpfGvZTHG4mMdKPDeDTgYf15cnl6vUkaayGH5Ps9T71zfdCUOWPC_5kACNHlEK286x41AvOhxzf8mad7PvfUSPyEuNnIr-fNDouXapymI31iIy5eR3/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Great food consumed, and back to the hotel. This hotel happens to only offer free Wi‐Fi in the lobby, and charge ridiculous amounts for in‐room connectivity. Being the hotel’s lobby such a peaceful, beautiful and comfortable place to sit in, I didn’t mind taking the entire pile of electronics downstairs, park my rear end in one of the couches, write and catch up.</p> <p>Hours went by; at around 8:30pm, dropped all electronics at the hotel room and the journey to the venue started. To get to the venue from the central railway station, two metro lines were needed—approximately 20 minutes of travel.</p> <p>Needed to buy a couple of metro tickets. Once again, confusing user interface of these damn machines, but it was worth it just to see that “insert more need” label—showing just how seriously people here take translation to English in <em>the biggest railway station in Spain’s capital city</em>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaNk3BEJrwd8664N03JDgNzADtIPYfaGnkntwmZzNvVLHogEP1LqVUixUxTiamBYK3P7Rl7A3rKGYpcHO5GT9bQ9Fqj4TXOtGdOcPPE8nskjf-Kvpp-yCrtlXmzj0IEeSDI8Qdfu03eRk0/s1600-h/IMG_20130726_204734.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130726_204734" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130726_204734" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYP969rGOxpt3E9HUWIEHpOT85i9imhGr8KLjvEnGZGfOsahxnsEAmb2QQB3k7EMVEPo_r3K9aTl59AiFm3QTKo2so8p48kJnySowLa5BdaalpQKUfDb10gquTPlilRHGGXvfscv35Fa5O/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I love these things… the laughter helped the metro ride pass quicker. About 20 minutes later, arrived at the <em>Ventas</em> station, named (I suppose) after one of the most beautiful buildings I had seen in Spain: the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Las_Ventas">Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas</a>—one of the most famous bullrings in Spain, which happened to be the concert’s venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNOEM5ymiflgPUu_W31bEaC4TwJU6ZEjG-05yYYLdxW1igifMjsSe5SgGJ5h5Jlvj-GHLdwOq94sZ8R5ejzQqKRuXQJhTpPabyK94iDPravmcil7gE_R_k8Yv7MZpgOrAgK1KTaye_PNak/s1600-h/PANO_20130726_211509%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130726_211509" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130726_211509" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitdtTD2B-c-Ss73JHn4T9srUvM2X64KbT0ShK35NaJuOKns_W0gL4VwPi2lG1Tzkf3u91_goxzeJoBPwVYkm_rzpkUlm-KB8HwnioBrMYkjWb79o2C-Sv5hXzaID5yocKrvFsTKiauTFsG/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="277" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPvSNzH_rx71W7caf_O7QY7C8g6kMtHMPXzoRSiY81bY0wGLfyKhGHDGf60bQZQ5D8OHFrC5gUHoK0Ea4n1HfvjaxQih3TTgPiaO3ZlMKV6U6rpJTJ0DD1GsyUU2lWv6f42OTh3sDFb9xR/s1600-h/IMG_2705.jpg"><img title="IMG_2705" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2705" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6OqBsD7uozgy9OcWwGKS81WPPmm0Ygdpg_8k0qVyYsA-IIj7jcTo4v56E82NHGOLWhd1ERssHBF6yW7MON_OwAdXEFR6uJVw3pGaCdkAajtUbaAcgjXMyp0P1eUBLU1K6D5qGPjTHVsF/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUf6scIHUuhB_osIpOWAcOba152BXWcy09cuJSBqNpNA9E8CjbH0zyjztbxlOKwTDg6MBvxGPu_aE-R5QneOc9_pe4FnX37TPjv6X1cirG-FnekBxTE-WXSF3VDua_4XMlp-W3xtrjWUa5/s1600-h/IMG_2706.jpg"><img title="IMG_2706" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2706" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpsosTiurKm3uimf4E0zP0x3fKTzjbG6rbumkq17Vcn-QCUEV8uNJ0tsqfJUhgZFwSj14oZEEKYrqTTlhu1zd60YVbAXkMQgkiDLP_M5AgRNiBiiz4Bi5MPf_PrwxE6JhlEFnbWvg1N8RU/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The exterior of this building, which dates back to 1929, is staggeringly beautiful. You can’t possibly look at it and remain apathetic to its immense beauty.</p> <p>As if out of nowhere, my dear friend Ingrid just showed up at the square just facing the bullring. Ingrid drove back home to The Netherlands the morning after the concert in <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/lucca-italy-to-zurich-switzerland-to.html">Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois</a>—a distance of just under 900km, mind you—and flew to Madrid to catch a couple of concerts in Spain. Where she summons this energy from—I have no clue.</p> <p>Hugs, kisses… and then Alberto (who had offered the guided tour in Madrid earlier) came by and introduced himself. Good to meet nice people along the way, always. Tickets collected and we all went inside.</p> <p>The interior of this bullring is as tantalizingly beautiful as its exterior. As the evening falls, the strong lights positioned along the bullring’s perimeter shine with the light of two million suns, and looking around, you feel that you’re a part of something powerful.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Well, as “powerful” as bullfighting can be. Senseless “sport”. I wish all other Spanish provinces follow Catalonia and ban this savage practice altogether.</p> </div> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMkKNktKn9T08P1DjvKo1dM7-OejzMWHx7UuJ0vI5j4WuvUGc3sHlIDyxpW52EtrvCu0sHGFQr05HWL5frzX-OaqhTiRel7iiwEIAtBqVP2npZCb5RxMDd9Dq5Vjnb3VdWiVen_cdju4Ft/s1600-h/PANO_20130726_220129%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130726_220129" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130726_220129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEiLUBTEfGqBSPqfbCDLQhQVeL_2QuFK33pV4yXc5092w1jCggy05XJ-9xjJS13iLSDZs4XqgTgw9LFdIEVZpTBH75ou2MTukJQHGwHp95tcJPRSE0uKhjs7NC3xRhf06Dd0oILE0o_j37/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="170" /></a></p> <p>I was seated at the floor, although I think I would have preferred watching the performance from somewhere high up on the terraces. However, as I arrived at the venue late, there was virtually no chance to catch a good spot on the terrace.</p> <p>The concert started, as usual, accompanied by deafening cheers. This band is very popular in Spain, and Knopfler’s Spanish audience has traditionally been exceptionally loud. People here were jumping in the air, screaming, dancing in their seats… an entire party. This is Spain, and that’s how I remembered it from the last tour: things get very loud here, and when it happens in such a large, immense venue such as Las Ventas, you can’t distance yourself from the excitement: you’re a part of it, because it’s all the way around you. </p> <p>For <em>Gator Blood</em>, Mark uses a white Fender Stratocaster tuned for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Open_G_tuning">Open G</a>. Incidentally, right before playing <em>Gator Blood</em>, the audience decided that it’s time for the traditional “o‐e‐o‐e‐o‐e‐o‐o” chant. Usually, Mark joins the chant by playing it on guitar; however, I’m led to believe that, this time in Madrid, was the first time he was “required” to do so using an Open G‐tuned guitar. Not sure whether he expected it or not, but it did take a few moments until he figured out what’s the best way to go about doing so. The slide used for <em>Gator Blood</em> was incorporated to the performance as well.</p> <p>Half way into <em>Telegraph Road</em>, the <em>Running of the Bulls</em> commenced: people seated at the floor charged at the stage in full power. That run, practiced in most western European countries when Knopfler is in town, can get messy in France and Italy, but in Spain… it takes on a different level altogether. I waited until the entire run was over and only then dared getting up from my seat… only to find myself a few meters away from the stage. Things got really crowded around, and <em>Telegraph Road</em>’s outro solo didn’t do much to calm things down. People were screaming, yelling and shouting recklessly—at each other, at the band, at the venue… at everything that can absorb noise. I think the audience in Madrid was of the louder so far this tour, if not the loudest.</p> <p>Concert ended after a good encore, featuring two billion people raising cameras, phones and iPads up in the air recording the show and distracting everyone else’s view. One particularly obnoxious individual recorded the entire performance of <em>So Far Away</em> with his phone, while obstructing others… and was cheeky enough to ask someone standing in front of him to lower his own camera. Brilliant.</p> <p>Didn’t take the venue much time to become devoid of people once the concert was over. Alberto was kind enough to give the three of us a ride back to our hotel, saving us an awful lot of time and effort. Thanks Alberto.</p> <p>Up to the room and got a good night sleep.</p> <hr /> <p>July 27. Woke up in the morning, breakfast at the hotel and the three of us—Ingrid, the Dutchman and myself—went on our way. A short walk from the hotel to the central railway station. Itinerary: leave Madrid 9:35am, arrive Málaga 12:17pm. Piece of cake.</p> <p>Arrived Málaga right on time, and for the first time this tour, didn’t even have to leave the railway station to get to the hotel. The hotel for the night, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187438-d650588-Reviews-Barcelo_Malaga-Malaga_Costa_del_Sol_Province_of_Malaga_Andalucia.html">Barcelo Málaga</a>, is ranked by <em>TripAdvisor</em> as one of the best hotels in the city and is attached to the railway station: from the station, you enter the hotel through a couple of glass doors.</p> <p>Long line‐up to check in. Finally, my turn. I approached His Highness, Lord of the Keys, and handed my driver’s license over.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Most hotels I have been to in Europe suffice with any government‐issued ID for identification purposes, even when issued by foreign governments. Some hotels, however, require a passport if you’re a foreigner.</p> </div> <p>The receptionist turned to me.</p> <p>– “Thank you. Can I please see some ID, like a passport or any other document…?”</p> <p>I looked at the counter. My driver’s license was still there. I repeated the receptionist’s question in my head, trying to see where it was exactly that we lost each other.</p> <p>– “Here is my ID, right there”, I said, pointing at my ID.</p> <p>– “No… a driver’s license is not good… no driver’s license, no other card… only passport.”</p> <p>Inconsistencies bother me almost as much as inefficiencies do.</p> <p>– “Oh, I understand. So you’re saying that I can show some ID, like a passport or <em>any other document</em>, but not a driver’s license, not anything else other than a passport”, I blurted out in what was probably the most condescending tone I ever had the displeasure to emit out of my mouth.</p> <p>He didn’t seem to be too impressed with my tone. Admittedly, I agree with him: my tone was so condescending and sarcastic, that for a moment afterwards, I wanted to punch myself in the face.</p> <p>While checking in, I noticed the following digital sign:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbxHExDd19G6hv3HfwiKBmLpF8NR5NVVckJ3EK9jZWhlAAerk24rlMLNWiZcgILZ0GWUwqOpAk5LzU0tkDMhka37yEdkXINaAbifoLLa1poG6yk1adGc40gnuD_b2x8CeOR3uvoz64-_8/s1600-h/IMG_20130727_122952.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130727_122952" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130727_122952" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOY1t1KL0d0jJ8UewpXs5iBUGqbGrcUD4-DaPW2bIqb-p7TFYwlaFbMIO4AVpSjpDb5NPVvyu3dabZ9NKHrkidcYBLPvbDKQWtXfVuZDeb374sfirV02JlbWBehVIK68qeMsz3ycecgVBW/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I think I mentioned before that, once a heat wave hit Europe about a month ago, we did some adjustments to our itinerary to ensure that all hotels we stay in provide air conditioning. So far this tour, I heard many strange excuses and restrictions regarding air conditioning: a hotel in Malta claimed that it charges €5 per six hours of air conditioning; some hotels indeed offered air conditioning—for certain periods in the year.</p> <p>These, of course, aren’t things that you can predict: when a hotel reservation mentions that air conditioning is provided in the room, you sort of take it for granted that you’ll be able to… well… condition the room’s air.</p> <p>This hotel, though, came up with a scheme that I could have never predicted: air conditioning would work only at times when the outside temperature is over 26℃; heating (in the winter) would work only at times when the outside temperature is less than 21℃.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I find it disconcerting that even air conditioning in hotels is now subject to fine prints of all sorts.</p> </div> <hr /> <p>I have never been to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%A1laga">Málaga</a> before, however I surely did hear about it: in Europe and beyond, Málaga is known for its beautiful beaches and “resort town” atmosphere. An ultra‐popular sun destination, Málaga attracts visitors from all over—especially from western Europe—as its climate provides for a relatively warm winter (average daytime temperature between December and February is around 17–18℃). The sun shines here for around 300 days every year.</p> <p>Stuff left at the room and the trio headed out for lunch. The central railway station in Málaga isn’t quite located in the most interesting area of the city; with the aid of <em>TripAdvisor</em>, a place by the name <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187438-d3820202-Reviews-Asador_Inaki-Malaga_Costa_del_Sol_Province_of_Malaga_Andalucia.html">Asador Iñaki</a> came up, located a couple of minutes walk from the hotel.</p> <p>Started walking, and the area didn’t quite bode well with me. Upon arrival to the place, I took a look around and determined that, has it not been for <em>TripAdvisor</em>, I’d probably shy away from a place like this: it doesn’t look too attractive or too inviting. Shady, dodgy surroundings tend to give me the creeps, and admittedly, living in British Columbia did turn me to be snobbier than I already was.</p> <p>Gave this place a chance anyway, and it paid off. What a wonderful meal. This place is in the business of grilling: beef, chicken, pork, seafood, snails… you name it—it’s there. They’ll grill a shoe for you if you ask them nicely. Huge portions, delicious food, fantastic service. When we arrived, the place was empty; 20 minutes later, it was almost entirely full.</p> <p>Back to the hotel and took a long, <em>long</em> nap. Nothing like 2–3 hours of a good afternoon sleep to recharge batteries. Up like a tiger, and decided to head where “normal” people head to while in this city, namely—the beach.</p> <p>It’s about 25 minutes walk from the hotel to the beach area. On your way to the beach (walking west to east), you walk by the harbour—also a popular area for drinks and snacks, especially for tourists or those who are tired of the beach scene located right behind the harbour.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ3n7Y5FxhNcKKxfeUVTQTFYcHZ3vKikChblbh9LY21gvWWJGV4Qs18d1W-VinL9GdQB1XHBFYweVE9B8K0rpGQH2JJ6QfUVbwIwCh5cnKGf6rJGbABrYy96Lu15_XWKPRU3whqt7jnMtA/s1600-h/IMG_20130727_175605.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130727_175605" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130727_175605" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtrlh9gczZgvGhM9F59OPQAVFIfNrvKZ-gkKCMomHKZU-oN9WACgCOjZ8NeNWcToUYwRxgpOMIGC4hYJHdXs_boNoGqwD_a6d-DzPQ5ucnCQUVmL24Eva80R9WqvqG2Y9zZ4bQLD-XUx1/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz114AWZjx8RYShliNGcN8GNylz0SgA3dAkYlyszfHnMIhMxMNmp2nJ71B8YtLMhyphenhyphenvG5am10PW-ccVplFqEWYLXTVNJyckBnI5VBEpz1iP1kXkm6YgyNGRYQSR9qVJkTLwhQB8A6Gl5fi7/s1600-h/IMG_20130727_190419.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130727_190419" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130727_190419" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVVIVpr6EMHLA4FD63iejSJ0kxkySqOBFHtVs7trw6F0Qr2roIyOPDA00bNntvSeC0sCD2aIYMSnKK7S8qZLgNJ99c7OtA9Vz-N2Vfr6Jr788LRpXg62FtKtLvwm8YYQhFQX-xgYyIFD2h/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz88LzfpDi9vbmWOrjyF3-Fh19LTKZ3kibvV2iQTxvuaFvwm0Gb3PX-5yp-wzft3wSDTCgD9Rnd6iDo6ADs6t5a5Xlb2uCwSB73mBr2SJCwtk06jvgU2ulVv6524w-4nkmBdvO95X1riev/s1600-h/PANO_20130727_190347%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130727_190347" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130727_190347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4FTrcjl0jt-sXY-TXROYJP6Xs7tPIvALKRa9XaH2HtcZWC7HSNoT2ctvWYBFThOBsQCpJuKRuHGCQffYg9Qs5ARlFyiDt7dOTPDxUGUtF2iRx05vTjojs1YzENWzKrxKHI4jkIDI9VRk/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="215" /></a></p> <p>About an hour killed just sitting down for a drink overlooking the harbour, and it was decided to head to the venue to grab the tickets and return to the beach later. The concert in Málaga was a general admission concert offering an early entry privilege for <em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket holders, but none of us was going to take advantage of it: the beach seemed like a more appropriate place to pass the time, than waiting hours inside a bullring for the concert to start. Still, we decided to get through with ticket pickup as soon as possible, to avoid stress later on.</p> <p>The venue, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plaza_de_toros_de_La_Malagueta">Plaza de Toros de La Malagueta</a>, is Málaga’s bullring. It is located very close to the beach, a short distance from the city’s main touristic areas.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyblFdPKiIslN8JhGaD2hJqgZKyGNwphcQUGjjME8oqbrFyY8r0gV-DgAlKfw4hpNV3GzCpuQMfvAujBLtntvobur5EaCgYwBHETKsDAGrNoBFWHAYrgWsloax3tZmmsURcia0NIueOX6W/s1600-h/IMG_2742.jpg"><img title="IMG_2742" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2742" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTvQLEmVYtlnSMsDeH9mZ9D6ykIn9ACgd3fq0_JbCFW9KwsomzOCydhrH0ZkaLABqQ4LiVe_L8c_Kh64tvZ7RXhb6pZVrCzNwWej_ZhhlDs-kJk5Wg6ltofEOmAyD9OyQbPU-01TK3rVA/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Ticket collection took a while, about half an hour; that done, returned immediately to the beach, looking for a place to sit down, unwind, grab a pre‐concert dinner, and then unwind again.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX3t77I0h8brpV0MBKzt_yEZHLH5ObFsj9IKHD4KpBP7pPYfTwkYhKNa06NrOuEywoePDn6_886YMz-rfjkqVfsrNx1AAhwpIGgyJDVUE1bidLX2jUyhqGpF01VMXlGYxO7mcfx_i2JBYN/s1600-h/IMG_20130727_201048.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130727_201048" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130727_201048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSLmyXMwbqwZo5iX1vROJ5FVoaAIgJGPzUg7ywR6WPowclJsiuhWvdyATRY6e_29QLCmAbaqKNpoqqGHucj-0jz-AR2SpEuTPa5bg1gFlbi_fFbEdUJaLB7NghOsuu2SZz3R5okWDiThM/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirBSNGp3GrI7HognzaJWDK48MIH3SFaaRHjaBrVBRuMQ96CZ_PCrNdr8xC9IwnZpwr-nieboWYtNHCPVDoUxlyQ5ngiTOAN_zNrvlHNtd235vbdbmj9bTwTBvVi2UhuczMbxnF5vQNXLb1/s1600-h/IMG_2746.jpg"><img title="IMG_2746" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2746" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicRMMPqbwfgYsHbCDuh17lOfT88bFkL6EQ0mhBS9PF9001CoXoRyK0aL8OlIAUVHWteBOy-Zfbd9sEkK9wboGuv2ED94FXXMJQhpOoZPaQFvEMwNypfdYoaZpDjjXvZaEWWyT4xFwpUMBA/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As it was evening—past 8:00pm already—the beach was almost entirely devoid of noisy tourists. Weather was perfect. Heck, everything was perfect. About two hours spent there in total and complete relaxation.</p> <p>At around 10:00pm, another friend joined and we all headed back to the venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWRSfHUJz5YGYVXYCOtVR0SeRSWz1QG-mJVGm6YomK8aghc42NwR1q0koLEbr_LiE2MCw_MKi8YVnXXyalOduICps66E65PqLrO39ARsTdPN8Nr0nlT1eS_OmsrIWC3JHIQ9lnVMVzCymq/s1600-h/PANO_20130727_221516%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130727_221516" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130727_221516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwxPXhl6m43RJNDqcoMyX3EO9WZi-crv6F68zcwObRW_cqtmn01feAz_f_Wyl3kcqjMEPJ6-1mKKxRrUIEDlu4AGTkQvwkWSEChh9oPBOBbSu6UwyVzV74_BjQx-PecKyPI9jQF2lRwFzF/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Upon arrival, it turned out that we had to split: two of us had to go to the floor, and the Dutchman and myself had to look for a place to sit somewhere on the terrace (unmarked seats; the entire venue was general admission). That was somewhat disappointing as we wanted to stay as a group; attempts to persuade the venue’s staff to allow us to join our friends at the floor went unsuccessful, even though there was plenty of space at the left hand side of the stage.</p> <p>Had no choice but to look for a place to sit. As it was close to show time already, all reasonable seating locations were already occupied. Standing was forbidden, so we were asked to walk all the way to the side, as that was the only place where seats were actually available. We were kicked out from one entrance to the next, until luck struck and we came across a couple of cool staff members who seemed to be OK with us just standing there. Not bad: high up in the bullring, a bit left of the center.</p> <p>Concert started at 10:30pm, as scheduled: the latest start time for a concert in this tour. Again, exceptionally loud audience. The concert experience itself was great—seated high up (at some point, I just got tired of standing so I sat down on the floor), perfect weather, cool breeze. What else do you need, really?</p> <p>Concert ended close to 12:30am and I thanked the universe for my decision to get an afternoon sleep. Out of the venue, and got a taxi back to the hotel.</p> <p>As this was the last concert this tour for Ingrid to attend, drinks were in order. A good mojito from the hotel’s bar, enjoyed at the patio—not before Ingrid decided to take advantage of the slide that the hotel so cleverly positioned between the first floor and the ground floor, heading directly to the bar.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-PIpG0qxOqjfsaZ42f9A_-vP4Ub_GYWi-avIedhbRGO9F-D6qTIsOgG587V3MpORzj6waA6Ao9Ey3e1ItimOKm-tNqe7OPabzAZPPQgYMdSHHqeXnGZAekFlEoJ5Y_HL8UMkGa41HnnyD/s1600-h/IMG_2773.jpg"><img title="IMG_2773" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2773" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid5HnTtRYZtxsHMhbnrnZleZyV2Jr2DYP2-1J-UDSAtOCurX5lRcFkjzcd9TWKXotX_9enURC5dF60S5oyHmPJyhAO25Dv4vq9f46U-oSanCdzZVsUJky-8i0ZdN0l8GIu0xapbeSTkEZ8/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Bidding Ingrid goodbye was a royal pain in the butt. Some of the best moments in this tour so far were spent with Ingrid nearby—you can’t go wrong with this wonderful woman around. The more time spent in her vicinity, the more I learned to admire her—a remarkable persona with a charming personality and a golden heart. Hats off to Ingrid for wonderful times spent together, as well as for her much appreciated help along the way.</p> <p>1:30am… time to bed. Last goodbye to Ingrid, elevator up, quick shower and off to bed after a fantastic day.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Gijón. Wasn’t the easiest day today: it was the last train day for the tour—12 hours over two trains from Spain’s southern tip to its northern one. Truly knackered, folks. 2:30am now, time for bed.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-26954352054821595642013-07-27T03:46:00.001-07:002013-09-10T08:39:47.093-07:00Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois to Carcassonne, France to Barcelona, Spain (July 23–25, 2013)<p>July 23, morning. Woke up at the hotel’s exceptionally uninviting room, tired. 5:30am. How long have I been asleep? about five hours. Clearly not enough. Fortunately, the hotel was located a few minutes walk from the city’s central (and possibly only) railway station.</p> <p>The itinerary: depart Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois 6:30am, arrive Lyon (yes, Lyon again) 8:22am; depart Lyon 9:10am, arrive Carcassonne 12:26pm. Six hours of travel. Not that bad, but it’s the short nights that are killers.</p> <p>Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois doesn’t seem to offer much to do at all, let alone so early in the morning. Short snack at the railway station before departure? yeah, right. The station was closed: you could access the trains (of course) by following a sign leading you behind the station’s building. Heck, this station is so small you are even allowed to cross the tracks to reach the other platform (as there’s no underpass to get there).</p> <p>Train arrived on time and I was happy to board it. 1<sup>st</sup> class cabin, and I was ready to embark on my usual attempts to fall asleep. Alas, two people seated a couple of rows ahead were in the middle of an important discussion; that is—important to them, and completely unimportant to me. They didn’t stop talking for even one minute throughout the entire ride.</p> <p>Arrived at <em>Lyon Part Dieu</em> on time. This train station serves as Lyon’s main station and I think it was my third or fourth stop in this station so far this tour. Having skipped breakfast (as no breakfast was available anywhere in Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois), food was top priority. Got a sandwich from a <em>Paul</em> shop located inside the station, demolished it within two minutes and headed to the same coffee place I had been two only two weeks earlier, <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/nimes-france-to-locarno-switzerland.html">en route to Locarno</a>. Fruit salad, croissant and excellent cappuccino and breakfast was over and done with.</p> <p>Back to the platform and took the connecting train, the TGV, en route to Carcassonne. No chatty people on board, but that’s not to say that the cabin was quiet. Shortly into the ride, I was suddenly under the impression that the cabin was also moonlighting as a carpentry. Well, at least that was my initial impression; calculating the probability of the TGV carrying a carpentry on board, I arrived at pretty slim odds, which prompted me to resort to my second best guess: a snoring traveller.</p> <p>So, yes. Two rows ahead of me, an exceptionally obese individual was squatting over one seat and a half—I pity the lady who was seated right next to him—snoring his lungs out.</p> <p>Now, I’m not entirely sure what the etiquette is for such situations. Is it ethical to wake someone up because his snoring is a nuisance for more than two dozen other people? on one hand, you can look at it as if the person was talking loudly on the phone: in that case, it makes sense to ask him to keep things down (“makes sense” theoretically, but not practically. Who knows what kind of a maniac you’d be pissing off. You really can’t trust anyone these days). But on the other hand, snoring is a symptom of a medical problem: would you get pissed at someone because their handicap impedes on your peace?</p> <p>At any rate, nobody woke the dude up. My noise‐cancelling headphones did much to eliminate the train’s low frequency noise, but not much to battle the snorer. The only way out of this mess was to listen to music through those headphones—once music is played, you hear almost nothing of your surroundings; Bose did a great job—and so I spent the entire ride listening to music that I had long forgotten about.</p> <p>Arrived to Carcassonne at around 12:30pm.</p> <hr /> <p>I have never heard of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carcassonne">Carcassonne</a> before in my life. Mentioning this fact to people throughout the tour often yielded a look on their faces, as if implying “this person must be ignorant”. To an extent, they’d be right. Apparently, this city, located at the very south of France—close to the Spanish border—is quite famous.</p> <p>When the name “Carcassonne” is mentioned in the context of tourism, a reference is usually made to Carcassonne’s <em>medieval city</em> area. When planning for the tour, hotels in the medieval city area turned out to be vastly overpriced, so it was decided to settle for a hotel in Carcassonne’s city center.</p> <p>How bad could it really be, after all? here’s a hotel, costs less than half of the common prices in the medieval city area, and it’s located right at the city center, steps away from the railway station. Good reviews… can’t be <em>that</em> bad, can it?</p> <p>The answer didn’t take long to become apparent. Walking from Carcassonne’s central railway station towards the hotel, about ten minutes under the mean scorching sun, I didn’t see anything that I could possibly relate to positively. Seemed like an old, dusty, grey, boring city center. “No wonder I had never heard of it before”, I muttered to myself; and in my head, I already started counting down: as it was a day‐off, I was going to spend two nights in this city. Two nights? here? why?</p> <p>Arrived at the hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187151-d1595823-Reviews-Hotel_Central-Carcassonne_Aude_Languedoc_Roussillon.html">Hotel Central</a>, located… well… centrally. Carcassonne’s city center isn’t that big, and the hotel is located on one of the main streets surrounding the city center. The minute I set foot in this place, I was already getting the idea that the stay here wasn’t going to be pleasant: essentially a very old building converted to a hotel without really putting much effort into making it comfortable. Up a crooked flight of stairs, and you need to open two doors to get to the room.</p> <p>What a lousy room. Uneven, carpeted floor—so uneven that you couldn’t possibly open the bathroom’s door all the way: it would simply get stuck at some point. Only two power sockets in the entire room, one of them located at the very corner of the room, almost hidden, behind the pillow of one of the two sad single beds. Beds? HA. You could feel each and every spring in the mattress separately.</p> <p>Tiny desk with a crack along its width, making it uneven and thus unsuitable for placing a laptop on. Old metal “chairs” grossly painted purple. And the shower… don’t get me started.</p> <p>In short: it was one of those rooms that motivate you to stay outside the hotel for as long as you can. This room clearly didn’t want me there. I grew to dislike that room within a couple of minutes… realizing that I’m going to be spending two nights there.</p> <p>Two nights.</p> <p>At least the air conditioning worked well.</p> <p>As this is France, you really want to get through feeding yourself within the standard French dining hours, or you’re in the risk of starving. As we arrived to the hotel just in time for lunch, it was decided to head directly to the city center: it’s one thing to be in a miserable hotel room, and a totally other thing to be in a miserable hotel room when you’re starving. <em>TripAdvisor</em> recommended a place called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187151-d3462258-Reviews-Le_St_Roch-Carcassonne_Aude_Languedoc_Roussillon.html">Le Saint Roch</a>, located in that <em>La Fontaine de Neptune</em>—a large square in the heart of the city center, with lots of shops, restaurants and cafes around. Four minutes walk. Good—though not great—food, for affordable prices.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiHKMQMg01fZgOajKO7ve7oft_D8b-hVdZAuiK30q6kato71KWqYuqMmoD1sQA8XF2l3KLxYoUloXCjIvF03pjxesWb4HUgh72czv7FAcRdQ0m8GzhC_MltJTHMUL2CIHzRQLbvksN7wLB/s1600-h/PANO_20130723_142016%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130723_142016" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130723_142016" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdKMia1z8nxsUhdDMRbrqh3si00zCz6fVaDhrYDVhQJot9nCeCkdJlz0dNkLUReHqNApdlzVYJJbkg82Mw2Md_4_kY9UqD0JEb-wVZ1KU8c7VvfKpG_14_XSdItaqK8pQDDUDU25hnGo-x/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="277" /></a></p> <p>Weather… hot, humid, disastrous. Forecasts called for a storm later on, and you could feel it by the high level of humidity in the air. Walking through the boring streets of Carcassonne’s city center felt almost like swimming. The combination of heat and humidity causes tiredness, which is why I headed straight back to the hotel afterwards for a good nap.</p> <p>While I was twisting and turning in bed, I was sure I heard thunders. Was I dreaming? apparently I wasn’t. Later on that afternoon, a thunderstorm hit the area and rain poured. I woke up after it was all over; still light outside, it was decided to go see what’s this “Carcassonne medieval city” thing is all about.</p> <p>It’s a short five minutes walk south of the hotel until you get to a large square featuring a huge wheel—no, not a car wheel; an amusement park wheel—so huge that it really seems a bit out of place. Heading east, you come across a bridge.</p> <p>It doesn’t take more than a few meters walk on that bridge to see something magical in the horizon. It appears all of a sudden, and gives you the feeling that you are about to experience something very special. The medieval city is right there in your face, as well as a beautiful pedestrians bridge leading to it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS9nvoIMCC9CYRlqg6F5PMldZU4DKs5U4UuETp1eXFcl5yuPbzMe0Qo5HZ_XE2yBaH6BWlgrpWM4MFRTtDdtpfhQorgyNxinbAXhpE4lEflytYnRMAZFjUvuqvZbuqE5A2YcQ6qX34yRRa/s1600-h/P1060114.jpg"><img title="P1060114" style="display: inline" alt="P1060114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB6fYxkBZZ7uq7IdMQncLT0ucgLRnJbWPwIc_FBWwsDXoN1flG8mAFmHCwmKcbg5PzYJCf3rGG_n3MpRF-5c6ajj1B-S6lIYJTs53vUSa6a3N8_2lzEEyPrbP9CwUJN3WKSP_SSFqJtqTV/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWD6FTH2KyJ0Jzkr5A7O7ssiKb3Zn049SNWkjahFydRpvwE_zxs3Q2JSpT4MJm0uGbmgnx2D8Rg7oIraW81czJB4PZq7SaEZlUYk1wDpqI5GBDm3YnhcDAjfMdWesPkksKrBgogceuiQ0o/s1600-h/P1060115.jpg"><img title="P1060115" style="display: inline" alt="P1060115" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb6vhYku3vfXTzaMjxCrf0OcRo_bR8Znw9BMA850Zm1Cnzj7NftwUIbCxKtBdpABvZ3zuNlY4eOfg3IQoGGtCOLkeNXEnD9HVq_6hOxivhaNOXeV15BkCgG1jE1FZsn_-I_v8VsJUR5Ljv/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2acM_EzFcqH6lVEWK98AuIfVTFC1TwXFZ9OKMBPo0gOQnLQcvJbfxLzSvZs_cJ_uKn4C0Cuusr44mWnsN_zbEHclIRP40r_6bhyphenhyphenEq4vGgAoW836UQ4jLO4Uq_EkdOyeCR07cboQn6PWj6/s1600-h/PANO_20130723_190448%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130723_190448" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130723_190448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHsPV-fhQpkEwlHFmL3GG82d-b3kOK15asVJ1WJl3puUmOUseM7jXipMdTwuyfcHh47dbFzblvIL3g5NG4qRtZhbeT-0b93g-gCy7qZQFtSO3x5wmH2klCmVhpvStjrEzFStzyPaoLYKf8/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="273" /></a></p> <div class="indented"> <p>If you look closely at the river flowing by the city, you’ll see that it has a light brown margin. This, actually, is <em>not</em> sand: what you see is the meeting of two different waterways—what appears to be sand is actually water (possibly brownish due to high sand content). This is a very peculiar phenomenon to witness.</p> </div> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgKLDmnAe4YaBA-4tdW58aNW0vGT9UI5WKRCVVHE3w5BMLppu7mIDfOELSFlsuG_0uiTtNTOowOlNgF7AviIPAT-zSIC5j_YjU7Jhg_nXHrB9oVA9DN25eB862NEy7TtvoPHO36hQBaOVp/s1600-h/IMG_20130723_190735.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130723_190735" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130723_190735" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoecUWTf2Bf80sjS0RgohIV0taTURzj2eFrXX-vbWydJJaj4ENlZrR7UZzQx1dbf35ufAsZ6iGd5aQm88E3SPgTMb_cAZONLEpiD3VuoNpyrtdq1ESD7tYS08mML2OEIfu8VEf8YHLV0EQ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The medieval city is located upon a hill. Once off the bridge, you enter the lower part of the old city—still not the medieval one.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsi-Ye3Q4CEMrmSzBOmhszFadTGsiCWCynbcXUcal2H9DJqV71ZFgfVaLenAMbbCRFKzGHv7z7UYkabVbmFFOo_4kB8swVL-1yj1Fd1l079IORn8Iun7h61dJYR8rQUN-SB2EKSEIM5WG-/s1600-h/P1060116.jpg"><img title="P1060116" style="display: inline" alt="P1060116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij15mGWaGHgAw3va50egqEUaz_efacgNhg61cnY77LGgmzXsshhEjaQT0kjfmmt8j3F7hMBEge4ZBfFZPRkn5eVEkxKt-mcN9MOh3Vrkd2h03p_kEDwnWvO1O6XpVoSFeEv9zQ-ImBweV0/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It’s another 10 minutes walk, mostly on an incline, as you get closer to the medieval city’s walls.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoiItprcHXdHo6CA9wdXCHhd7XB83j1TDFTM-VqS_8qn9G5DdokBkkvudsVKZWbXR4V-qf7ThvbgcTLq_qeEBYEpegDpPregjjCYxwwhGAJjheA3Op3UnvLoBaXpU2V1uHPtGMkcx2w6j/s1600-h/P1060117.jpg"><img title="P1060117" style="display: inline" alt="P1060117" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDbuYsoaBPRIzEO9CQAl-azD93d3z9m487_-OxgpV_ldriC_Q3xi4XGHXhO-tm2w1P6iJBju_xKlWMFmjV5JsLNgpzkE8PR7-devENjBR04L7SBOi_wBE9v9O-nqy1Oe_973dUo7iuQND/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyOtMPK9FvSvgkpWGzDcjReBO1lw3NkgoPvbQ0ma7flacXUf1nsxdnYiI0-UJDwFoieDJ9lI1ETA4jFbqLuII9STQJWfpdecc687lNLJ6qo_bV_mfyaEKj_ceKV-RY2_xe2wE6YDM_M-BH/s1600-h/P1060118.jpg"><img title="P1060118" style="display: inline" alt="P1060118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWBxEyJBG4-VFpJVqiJvRVkpTMABUwt7O8HWN9twwkG-XqX76kgCvg1K3DhTBt3s21fzA8eEdX8lucihqF0emXgS0LMNHIBA05lMMtQVLD73evKYu4ThlApFxK9UqNePb5iFT8F9SDZe8/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Beautiful scenery. Shortly after, a flight of stairs leads you into the medieval city, where virtually each and every corner begs for a photograph to be taken.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFh_TtN8kxUgaV3de8yQS0t-y0s-erZ_ueGMHVI4-Da9Dujf3VO4t8ShhKdgemzpQjXFFQZofiinlJMDEeOPul4wBB9DGXbAysv07ntYmG7xS_m4ON1zUhjuPX63yOoUMzItil-lt58Z8/s1600-h/P1060119.jpg"><img title="P1060119" style="display: inline" alt="P1060119" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNEHBCL7HrQPbjNgIzvBJtQXY97ahe9-UjMDQs2uAJD_pEi8NtaRyq2ujZQXC8mRn_9cZ1SlOzMLFj5mKbFXLzubhvO3ZGWo0uTucVWYXuF27tjj0kgKOezh4w4Avk6ub4pOAQ-iFPo7H/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNfxLNemnv3Tc5YphAgNW2KUEWHqzR1lysgGhdYIJquip21_b5wKcJ4FHcKkBHrQP4iIwVVEGGP0jJaDeDME6cPAo2LbPXhDAA3-D6Swo1hkTXQPCBXhG5cYooE3WiAD_4He7F2CZCqfjB/s1600-h/P1060120.jpg"><img title="P1060120" style="display: inline" alt="P1060120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8VWwJr1LVTviWHoIDp04GLWyoQOq2lVEYImXaJj97BNT7nqYH7tfJOaYs-9nGazMocT9fNyXjvBy3R1ldA7TkecfcDQzlltLefiUeHNojmZBFSrEq3aztJUqjxtLvV4M2wVeKBgUq8qGv/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQHtFewHwKgjWOE6EqdZczHtipHC2ppuJrSOXx6rslRFuF5T1FWcstAtEAXqlftX-ER9t_PgpO7pMIV-XprzrU1lp7pImFsX5_1NRV5mWhCRuCu8FrKKNaRB1XtPBLWP8ShrSI6e1Dzw6B/s1600-h/P1060121.jpg"><img title="P1060121" style="display: inline" alt="P1060121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNLGPPiV9Y1tnIFrkYZMPReYuCfC8wqYl_4CoXn8knbR89GXLj_018gg0yR3MopXWXf7u9qBilG7aoM7ZgGO1akGMwXuKp0INgamiDybyTPJ-SBAhmt1vXgV-9lo6h3POM-_pEq-bYVXbv/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Decided to have a small dinner at the cafe shown in the last picture: mediocre sandwich. Asked for a baguette with “steak”, ended up receiving a dry baguette with two pieces of microwave‐thawed hamburgers. Half eaten, half thrown away.</p> <p>Continued to walk randomly. The medieval city is very small, and the best way to explore it is to simply walk aimlessly in it. As you walk towards the city’s surrounding walls and then walk by them, you get fantastic views over the city of Carcassonne and beyond.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWwHFagCDRUUVF0ydya9iIoeS4UWw6q5O7-7n9JXYDNuYSTrg11fUNxGtJ32eh6zPpdX4ssSxusZ5lLddlHQHwRnTo7GaDSjKgk-sfrAC2saV9olrtWQa27y4rV_-xjuFxIdSqr-EVCW3/s1600-h/P1060122.jpg"><img title="P1060122" style="display: inline" alt="P1060122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi16HTlPP71PKO_0xwDvD6OHh7LQNU2UJ1DLYgMi_r3OZUD7An_qFfCppFW9ErocmJN8nQz4L5v2MkDx4K9PzRwNYdJXt9sjtNueXUru2Fuj8ZBtl5CqqHi9lBsAkSv2dTk-7iQ48qakMS8/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitJC8mKzWIb955LXbe0r9NSCCLANuWyxaXApsbcOpsCTb3HBhj3OYnJhp8sVgEx0q0yecORMF602Du4ozRWL8AagG4ZrsC1F8XYki5ZIHdFoa1d8AhNzjEl_Et7xylCBwZV08VVz67_ufB/s1600-h/P1060125.jpg"><img title="P1060125" style="display: inline" alt="P1060125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz6eY3MMZf1omcj-piDyqlU3-pQ-IhZs7OpmjOObf72jnV5gxFyqGno4eUWVfQ9YNmepEJMVFLkOn428_ZXyoz6fnG4LYdhEz2Dw5SoMsNJWGEIwieRcsHO-9LcIdC4V-X5pLe6huzobB_/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaDJUUziommYlBMNczUfRNOXeaMoMLBGPXpwTsR9qAtsb0JHB_n-IHX_njY2Hycwtx4ccwTwphyAsbacQtANAPHvGECWtZMQMfTsv-xGHF_59C9lNLROdVuQsI97guGyTYrme-KVM3TiyI/s1600-h/P1060126.jpg"><img title="P1060126" style="display: inline" alt="P1060126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0B5UWCEcaaZEKt73vpkm44Xm63is4pL0ml0Qch22szgCRVsgtlL-2ZFD9jxOynVJmiH04arrCHx6MEb2IyvdB5ELCL58e_Fz-PXC3tNiCuXxUjG3jYPEIb9OxjZYiUVLE2y8zkKrGVMiR/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwH2FktKf77Mm_KGnBqZV6vFMGCYvmhBIrTo2SpOgj-YBqfb-n_0GRp5c_UfGYxV7tTCnqQk2tL0zj7zlfnV-3rdp3adHanBKw8t3SVcSVT7pIr4Ywym_PiYVZpL8ynZO4YIMyi5gY2B1w/s1600-h/P1060127.jpg"><img title="P1060127" style="display: inline" alt="P1060127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisAsJuZacZSAg4P-Sd-kY3bSMi_NyYG9yB4fF9RdMjOn5GMmmO23KftUUE5leBdWyQivwrNCtYbNBeYSMaacW7Llavi8OZd4Tu_NWDlRmjIl59mhlmnWVLrMsAb_z6G4abjF3g6oqWX0qT/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCebCpJ7znK1EcZotVaHhxTEgsOOQCL9GywxdGPuXwLkTCLIFsUCzqagGnz2FGEH3C_BjOpe5-O-wSoW1MCVOXbQIzd1QpZyiVtrz3D9w9aRtV8x_dF30kFk4dZkMwFmuVlLB8ROuYRyZT/s1600-h/P1060128%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1060128" style="display: inline" alt="P1060128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qdLTI35mNN7kjhIzEwKWZYS-R3fjTUD5EnW6QS0U_qnDrhk5KqR23Aj7KpCLr7zv5V3a5ApkbdSSPVvJ512PU95z2MkcdxrPYHVCSpkKlG9QCJoiUtHm0BDBd3chiQGg85-eieE3R_pZ/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZc6Ezef4UMMwtokdbjAL2PY-wlPZLkcljKW3JniNnLEDuuQ12waOy3Y6_lSTYXZcPzdF4CFqgRTgVLvYYlNcbSOzaXD27svqoNw7yVIX0K1SQjX87HEk2YvEnnhZ0H2f1br4-usN2fAg/s1600-h/P1060130.jpg"><img title="P1060130" style="display: inline" alt="P1060130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuY5RbX9-2OpErP1Bx3_QRuTMT19YedqkPXPoKdRX2sdZ8dG4T7NjuqrplTPn9IiiqLdeavrrnef2RU314XzHzAZ6-svOFpi8cSmSa2XKZFYF2CF-1DVVapnLWsmWuT3JFwDxloAHsot-d/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiteknn0vCgbqPu8-Mtl6IQe7sdhUkH_RWf5Dx0Vp2pjc4ZNAYkD0pDq36GM3leOpbpFAmf-JlLbaI2LSwO7nMGRG_Bug8_aNsDJ3rXoyHEF82fLTpZu-fit8dFBaTR1LQNr3nlRCSxP0Jy/s1600-h/P1060132.jpg"><img title="P1060132" style="display: inline" alt="P1060132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyr13G5Oid6Pek6J9Q1hgWlb6wWmRsRx7yrB8J5lHvOKOLjGKOLmC0_1xGbsZtZTcGaGpU5qEo4eX58VGAx0aFg8UJEEMrY1Tc3y3ZmBX5yts8uBtn2GfjDa325BKFEMznUiwij10Xtx_J/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Many pictures were taken (as you can see), and quite frankly, it’s very hard for me to decide which ones are worthy of posting so I’ll just post most of them.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7o5jj-3snjCjz2EIzRjKOJ-FW7rDfShtjsWBDe7rV5gTHyYB0Jm1vx4iypkbgvSup4OMCrD8bagFdnnVsBpVWe3kJmzcuj4Vs8MJSMXFWEkJD3LF8VyRkkHDUtoucwhmC9DoTr65mgqv/s1600-h/P1060134.jpg"><img title="P1060134" style="display: inline" alt="P1060134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJWzTozIHk1Al6t4vXIkrvMwQTt22Oj37BmPeyEkgJjMP4MNoS1R96VVhwhgCg5HBCgJ-SARDMUYHVg02Ux5RZZZPXrY2M1_Cc_awL4UALhOVFFK9139IwJQcl9S6WXKgkcxvNwKVN9XL-/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSeeRDZxnGoNKZYOuKZyCMb3bnp1oyuyPS-_ACmhGRlny8EQNAAV8Wd9UMmG0KtPfeVLBmEUVHsopEvKZqFf4epSkufSwmPYLDJyCpeLuICbb_KlO53oyrJWBA_nCCtXXnfUw62lBk47XG/s1600-h/P1060135.jpg"><img title="P1060135" style="display: inline" alt="P1060135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimF-YqorHRP3rDroUyBaPzk8B94n39CChsQwv76nLsewwp-fdSvKR0DDiJP4S1PB5z2oGmkhyJfYA6hg09h_HQPJ9jY3iJpV5-lVhv84SJv7ZNtWw-kGYQSYvhS75o3Sj9J62XB10NphwR/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-LQBeYyjTUmmtlanwSljKKC0kGVbZ2gqWXaaRwfX0k-yn00RIe886N2nkeQOXCubIs7UW9szt9LxYAtsAvwgq9JkLuuZCPr8fZokxxz-om0ULKVCEcX4gwoMmgOTCCfL0fx3KHt5AxwYd/s1600-h/P1060136.jpg"><img title="P1060136" style="display: inline" alt="P1060136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_xTYa2EFnyKluc_V-d4cgmqGWDpdoUA7Z54c74DQSfL5zCBicpNzBZhKXP_gUJjwJH1jUs9yCU82BT_x480rtVYVy1_OavDriBvHzSn72Ds6ZuwDA1Me9ctQ29pHZ5TJ9yaEn0cb70NMj/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqrzpEcwpJkBp4-tXtSXuZtvVmjvQHQNtT5tLePqOp0C6sFyke6AC2qPB3D56bMI37NvuLvgGSFcP991_AZfjxgW8Ae5hUjwy8daDaQhmEvmkpZb7fpyZlc1pl46gd10am6LZjklAZEK3b/s1600-h/P1060137.jpg"><img title="P1060137" style="display: inline" alt="P1060137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia3pwjGiJdyUxmiYKJd8EhDaSDtDzpqAba_0TiHWwvGf7tVk9oBBDj50aEYZQwxK0RMXlPWmBpTvVPxYUuX0-31OvSKDat4jFw1-5VAarVZVJeNYV7odqSxyF1utG8JihJ7iuVe8Z6mJ4r/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcrc-0sFkKH7ScVkNaWH5mWMyhEpYjgGsboCCXQjMQBHyPNuH-oCqop3Yl8Eu8prIvQyrbMeZsh8jy64-09M-QPGePdZYOBcQ9ePRUqbgNvRsKeo7Q7lwYb36kk2M7NtBWOePInLGVv2z0/s1600-h/P1060138.jpg"><img title="P1060138" style="display: inline" alt="P1060138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM3_iR8Aszajlmr_Ey3HkQZn753AiFGaP-DV3PdrVNpKtk7F_BI2m0ker1lOC43Imixc7od9wbzhS5mEfhcF4yHvOJV9pEBMXa50v_m_DJFW-XSu2rx4PtbkTnXE3Dh0BZS_p-82KS_xXg/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLTYd4WoDk_W1-O0-mtmdPRTuwJ1fjFek2Q0JTdmX3nH-S8aykCkArMqFm_qz-NcNtRsOkwU367uwo1xJYWTk6zLNRsGCDOS8FCuX8ivc5QQ7zpTcBTB6yXrm_z9_hd7IkeUagvZwcL1bq/s1600-h/P1060140.jpg"><img title="P1060140" style="display: inline" alt="P1060140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjocryPZoNRU1TeCN_VQ8Jrcu7m9R4Dh7h_k6kAsfNPpAQbfASIX_sBOhlp35jhDQuPGyg58VuAHKZPj0mts4szwQPUfJTzc5OCWeYQaX8ls0mP_6sf4igwtpMpERF7OpEHme81fUO3RpO/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2u3jh0WUZX5W82izIiq5Mo6JWXKLTklSiyuOVJoHulnU0olrV5kOEpwsMVI0PJuSpVwcFFfXzcNz1Oe43KRNYzMv_XIGjvRetfYjzFSCuyLb9PEOelcjZXn03blIHbNp3g8u7U02xAm7K/s1600-h/P1060141.jpg"><img title="P1060141" style="display: inline" alt="P1060141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbDuNXD0zmOIWPI_SxH6dUJ_H7S79AiEbEo5e3elQ2ZwlkMJuNOaFuH9Y2UT2R1IrhwBf_pkGyowRpV8gMOMPPxTHCLYt8AojIP3iTjQHdPGLJn8pYIJEtDVswTtkJxFOCyIkcXv6mhpXy/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNCOFbS6JvVZ0zQY5msMwxx9osgardvR8mrtPCOO2mmZBVMib4eiQw5Ltbo2QbqgjyRIiqY-8ddF0698h9tz7XLP9sOnprmY5q8YKi5u4i_UnG6jm80jtfXihrwVZD9lT3rnVegbRNZgXo/s1600-h/P1060143.jpg"><img title="P1060143" style="display: inline" alt="P1060143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5efes3bz5IpwKnX4xgrbMs_NO2AExlaG08tFeC0-zBMF9lvxf4saFtEc2Oqwziyp4fLoNCpcV3DKsdB8gFrW8FXI_3EdxNtkjIBjOjeNoP5gzrvNZcRBdl96zbxSu1KWSJ7eiOovEfzD0/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>After almost a couple of hours walking in the beautiful medieval city, it was time to head back to the hotel. After thunderstorms, temperatures usually drop but even then, temperatures were too high and humidity was insane—and all energy I gathered during the afternoon nap was gone as if never existed.</p> <p>One last photograph, walking down the hill away from the medieval city…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmR68_u-Q5Y0acfpNz6bxex9Ln-Fd3WwFJIuXjJti8f0jO-cP4cgPLVkd7jfF2Bq8ZLWfL_XQMnk4w0ZENpZ-Ns8sEy6MsMKKZ5XeLFrmNmj9B5xPiDWI18p0BZCXryStxq_G_Ifdppa4G/s1600-h/IMG_20130723_210144.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130723_210144" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130723_210144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSzzjEcUiYbCvovjaquj1BRtr9WuuFUiHPxHHO2CiBFgM23rZZGB_0jbf8_fOq3dutHejuBC4kPT9MLuY4uTRy4XyOP5FxeuGPavFL45Xuqpd1ikgO8tunCfs3u347sL9AwI_-GKSb4Bfa/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… and back to that miserable hotel room. Tried to do some writing but couldn’t; the room was <em>that</em> depressing. Caught up with all other things happening in the world and then off to bed.</p> <hr /> <p>Terrible hotel room… but surprisingly, a good night sleep. Woke up fresh and hungry. The day prior, upon checking in, we were informed that we need to make up our minds about the following day’s breakfast in advance, because breakfast is ordered from an external vendor; that’s usually a sign that breakfast in the hotel is going to cost you way more than it should, and quality is going to be terrible. Hotel’s breakfast was skipped, then, and off we went back to the city center, to that same square, looking for some breakfast.</p> <p>Found a place offering sandwiches and coffee. Sat in the patio, enjoying the great weather (it was too early for the sun to start burning people around) and watching the people of Carcassonne go about their day. Sitting in that patio was so lovely, that I considered going back to the hotel to bring my laptop so I can do some writing—clearly, I wasn’t going to do any writing in that sad hotel room I was staying in.</p> <p>What else was there to do? no idea. Heading back to the medieval city didn’t sound like a good plan: it’s a long walk there, meaning that it’d be best to go there a couple of hours before the concert rather than now.</p> <p>Back to the hotel and decided to just lie down doing nothing. My friend Nelly was already on her way to Carcassonne to attend the concert, and plans were to meet at around 1:00pm to have lunch together. Was good to see Nelly again. Lunch was consumed at the same place as yesterday… back to the hotel for a rest… woke up, checked on what’s going on in the world and then got really upset with a <a href="http://www.facebook.com/isaac.shabtay/posts/10151530236657073">particular news item involving Roger Waters and a floating balloon</a>.</p> <p>At around 5:30pm, Nelly showed up and the group headed together towards the medieval city.</p> <p>The medieval city, as beautiful as it is, is also extremely touristic. Not only millions of tourists seem to be flocking the medieval city every second of the day, it is evident that some of the medieval city’s “charm” was lost as, at times, it appears as if the God of Tourism threw up on the entire area. There are <em>way</em> too many shops here, to the point of ridiculous redundancy: you can’t swing a cat without hitting two ice cream parlours, three creperies and one fashion store.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>The preceding paragraph should not be considered an encouragement for anyone to swing any cat, for any purpose, either within or outside Carcassonne’s medieval city. It’s just an expression.</p> <p>In a related subject, I like cats in much the same way I like most other types of pets, that is—none at all.</p> </div> <p>After scouring the medieval city for what seemed to be the third or fourth time overall, it was decided to sit down for a pre‐concert dinner. In a small square, there were a few restaurants with patios, one of them boasting a sign claiming that their pizzas were ranked #4 in the entire world. Ranked by whom? who knows, who cares. Challenge accepted. Was indeed good, but I wouldn’t rank it #4 in any world.</p> <p>That restaurant also featured two youngsters, male and female, who were sitting side by side at the patio, singing together. The male held a guitar. They were not a good duo: guitar playing was tasteless and their duets just didn’t work. At some point, after the performance of a particular song, one of the waitresses told them (in English) “hey, I’m the only one applauding to you”. Ouch, but a well‐deserved one. That didn’t stop them from playing.</p> <hr /> <p>As <em>markknopfler.com</em> had a few flops this tour already regarding concert start times, it was decided to head to the venue’s box office early, grab the tickets and verify the concert’s start time.</p> <p>The venue’s setup allowed for reserved seating in the first five or six rows, and general admission seating (first comes first served) elsewhere. Those who bought general admission tickets were already queuing behind the venue’s doors, under the brutal sun. The tickets we were going to collect were for the reserved seating section, so there wasn’t even a hint of rush there.</p> <p>As this is France, the box office opened about 20 minutes after its scheduled opening time. People were queued against the box office as well—these were people who were waiting to collect general admission tickets, and wanted to rush towards the entrance’s queue as soon as tickets were picked up. What for, really? the entrance’s queues were already ridiculously loaded (with people who had their tickets printed at home, or purchased ahead of time).</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmjXq5DMZewqYr4lwt4jcrArwnhIxRGxsYskVQB2BTM3f16xM-VEzYmdI5yFzR63IE9TIzrO7iTwKZ63duLDWEzdyDTMwYMkbBw91Pg9cSlFd1_qf4RABXJnG2yW2fxAd_bZKo7WWYnNcE/s1600-h/P1060144.jpg"><img title="P1060144" style="display: inline" alt="P1060144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD1rVBnYvwLpDEHTfoxm-fXN2VqTCkoyIkIy6KxN8FZ5V4Lq_0IwqJJzJ7L1WJH3KJF8rvKFrgbXU8jRRXcMsyYMRvtZR3fv3TKN0thzVILlermkJ0-_DJHpsYUfNN1qa7PG-BVAZH5B5o/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Tickets collected, show time verified… great. Two more hours to kill. What do you do in a small medieval city that you had already seen four times, and you have two hours to kill?</p> <p>Of course: you have coffee. Nelly’s desire for a sandwich led us all to a small cafe that seemed to have a proper espresso machine in there. Mentioned what I wanted, and went with Nelly to grab a table in the patio, as the Dutchman was put in charge of paying and bringing goods to the table.</p> <p>Now, just like Italy… I love France, but there are some things that I just don’t understand about how they go about doing things. In Paris, for example, I was refused a cappuccino because “it takes too long to make”. And now, the Dutchman ended up joining the table holding a wonderful sandwich for Nelly and a paper cup for me.</p> <div class="indented"> <p><em>No espresso‐based drink is to be consumed from a paper cup</em>.</p> <p>I can’t stress this enough.</p> </div> <p>The story? well, apparently they <em>had</em> mugs there but “they couldn’t use them”. Why? who knows. Also, the way that this place makes a cappuccino is add warm milk to “coffee”, and add whipped cream on top. Without whipped cream, they call it “cafe au lait”—which means “coffee with milk” in French. Which is really what I got, except that I didn’t ask for it (a cappuccino is made with steamed milk).</p> <p>The end result was something that failed to please any sense. But what can you do, really? you’re in the middle of one of the most touristic places in France; would you start explaining to idiots how to make a proper cup? no. You just bite the bullet and leave; which is what I did.</p> <p>Another round in the medieval city and I already had it. Yes, it’s nice and beautiful, but there’s a limit to how many times I can walk through it. Headed to the venue, with plenty of time left for the concert to start.</p> <hr /> <p>The venue, <a href="http://www.carcassonne.org/carcassonne_EN.nsf/vueTitre/DocPatrimoineTheatreCite5">Théâtre Jean Deschamps</a>, is a theater located inside the medieval city. The theater wasn’t there in medieval times: it was built in 1908, on the ruins of a monastery. The venue is used to host an annual summer festival.</p> <p>As I was completely stunned with the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/napoli-to-taormina-italy-july-15-16-2013.html">Ancient Theater of Taormina</a>—to the point that I nominated it as the best outdoors venue I had ever been to in Europe—some claimed that I should hold my horses and not rush to determining such things before seeing the Théâtre Jean Deschamps; therefore, I was rather curious to see what this place is all about. I found it hard to believe that anything could beat Taormina’s ancient theater’s stunning setting, but was willing to give it a chance.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSI1bxc94l5dl7KiMrcJSa6QUOyVLc73gI8XZFEnpMuC0CdL4VBDDWiJiOQW4n9ecbQuazMtQZ-IihCxnlyhiWOxLLgqqeNkNFliIQTau-8RjQ8GIOSZnj_dZt38R8ChHtlqieB5mINC_0/s1600-h/PANO_20130724_210433%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130724_210433" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130724_210433" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDldYImNwnxZxjkOenLl0fg28Oq_QlokrdVX3rQGev0cc2SuQisevA1wig9gf4o0KVAC6AMCma8BCEBJLpiYuW4soNbREp4JO2YArhyh-jHAYv0nGLL-y5L5swYvLHU_hqQRMIwkck0sY/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="226" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdJPaeqei0MlutGdyLP1bTiY-YNgrDhFIbMHSU107pVsSwmun9CKfAXvLKyincDbu8ui_hS8ZqIB4gBMd1kw_p96R1LcG6w3O77YKVHN9ZWftD8tvCwkTjguhg-QtGnw5tyBuo2qBglg6J/s1600-h/PANO_20130724_210843%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130724_210843" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130724_210843" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhLiw-9t71pxyIiGSduU6-Yv3QudTUllCpVbWcJh8r6XQeyaC_jVbgdcbS7RlaCXkJrMSkGuGKt3tyT8FItwJASdTUlxup2PSUvP3ccL7iPRrm7UohNTlRRT5MMHFT-TKeOTswnevrnppO/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="156" /></a></p> <p>No doubt, this is a tasty looking venue. The sight of the medieval walls around clearly gives you the feeling as if you were stepping back in time.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9psELOI6I36oQYLGFg4Z576Rt-9t65tCM2mRTV7MyD4AmqYKWeZmTTfN2dDXbEtUqVwcuSagCuvoUBRX4vqt_zAvrM2loly8nmpkTv_04IdnGUCHmWhAD_m5su09NDPwlxj-ExF-oYNED/s1600-h/P1060147.jpg"><img title="P1060147" style="display: inline" alt="P1060147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGnfGsiKBURMPegSDjxwIIepF-9yTqIGGby7waRy1dqbAkZ_RQrS_S76cduFS94Okny9zJ2jiQv4ORTkvMJygdYRCVj8BckJQckxymZqNK6cECGYQf-iDhPRi7SHr8IhAR11xaMf38eM3z/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwHie3LUIERR9DSO5-LpmIWOHZbJEdgfwhOeEtbsNxTSwQHh1r4RHkvQfzC18GDfc5Y9CX8ZVnwUyP13v3TKOqR2l7-FfXwROk_PXoHfQHQdb8kkstsJikTjfnUDc0lM15kKN22Wujt7MM/s1600-h/P1060148.jpg"><img title="P1060148" style="display: inline" alt="P1060148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYoJ19LKWQhgBufTnl28DW8t1eDrQu91qmZZZ01lFgs8XLnlmY7u7bpikXn4oSJEyGWGZNqVGHzCOl5TK4cw4BPzZREdpwIGgV9c9iXe-tIpNMT0xsdfPf_bhQlcRs8I3lPLvYH0FouBCE/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Impressive, yes, but… still. Taormina’s ancient theatre is in a different league altogether.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Can’t complain much, really. The Théâtre Jean Deschamps is of the most beautiful ones out there.</p> </div> <p>The French audience is known for its vicious <em>Running of the Bulls</em> sessions, but no bulls were to run anywhere this time. The distance between the front row and the stage was less than one meter: I could lean my feat against the stage and my knees would still be bent.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu-MlfATBl5WW_GZUg1DaFdpgdsrFdyLPEMQBDQXM15cE1Ydh6sW60Zo7T5M1vGmKJOH5RbbrSWizPKcvWRBMvz0v-1S6BK7GSuioZiJCGtBZUm8zel_DDsl5oiecwaitw-FnvAtdWNlJr/s1600-h/IMG_20130724_213016.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130724_213016" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130724_213016" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWI5MrGuOfZzs3RxwaD6hYuCUuUr4uJZTYCgM2H3mzihQcE-7OaSciDruMIpejfYMVoRsvin-FJPLIA1oIzT_9d3DF80Idpd7fFFgJpkoPtws4G-WLRkpY8uc9VGfVdsNq1TeV9Vn5yqg6/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>The stage was low as well, enabling excellent view of the performance.</p> <p>The concert started on time, and the French audience didn’t let anybody down—loud cheers, as usual here. Good concert, well‐enjoyed.</p> <p><em>Speedway at Nazareth</em> was skipped this time. Nelly, seated somewhere at the sixth row, quickly made her way to the front and took advantage of the best seat in the house: my lap. Some things, I guess, I’m not trained to say “no” to. It was, after all, the last concert for Nelly to attend this tour around, so it was prudent to ensure that she ends her part of the tour on a high note… and watching the performance from the front row was an added bonus.</p> <p>Concert ended and it took the audience forever to leave through the exits. Two other ladies from the USA joined us for a walk back to the city center, which took longer than anticipated as the medieval city looks beautiful at night.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEiiJ5tqL2nODoiJJchRtvGvYGpnqufkBe3nA2RLQOrLrOd1OMS8MG4EQgnwFdgMpnPRnIvTKCoj6JbP7gXGTa3Fsz3jQL9XNJ5oFvHlWCbBASlmcB_2PJeW8jH02Q9ktyLoNxQ4LcxScO/s1600-h/P1060155.jpg"><img title="P1060155" style="display: inline" alt="P1060155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRo_fH8EqdM3FY-jJhPtJ1m8XfzJ-Fv4pvLEeRf9-_Sk-yn76Lb9Mk-Hd4z6NtkCpWPHirVB4RLRGq4uOublRgzpzwjqRLh68g_NZV5nBpG7Xkh0W3OupFOP5eI1IT8SFhZWRfetMViaH/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQFnMdSqt1K8bU1QKBz-CvgACrb2BqFEDo2AmfCy_sf1wd8vcbJlVWqgSS0jU5nK5xk5O-Tz2txq6viPYh_B12Eae_Ro8h1_Xl_nBEZ8Zk56UGYQ32WCuKv-m5viCK64XYrA7Y8bv79KvQ/s1600-h/P1060157.jpg"><img title="P1060157" style="display: inline" alt="P1060157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Txsb5nMm7zemeStU_3NGQC133AbLai_biikCXluaME60kXOhq722LaM69b1oH51F1XkJ7A63xrM4bAIz4uhyphenhyphen5R7dw5SUeBm7xuviAo4DltAb8wKyL3iALGZ6pqT6sV1-3VOwE0HSB_kC/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQqW-1S86tLFNWAYEyc_7OgqLwDViYbfUNrNy9nicJlsoGW1v_EhNFYQOYeqo6CqkQVdT5TUHno64bQM2igktsYoKSCs7xrTGrOHbZsXMEZKmPB_H9p8Zrt2Tflv62EOCRuNbngB2dofnB/s1600-h/P1060162.jpg"><img title="P1060162" style="display: inline" alt="P1060162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDAKZw091xpYP2YnQJmxvx2Q0wvJigZE2Fgt0U5FhTonq28L7GVCdwgArxqkaB5xfGcsYOPpjRcQUmic1GREYnj2Rb9Ty9ZMpfAC1dchBhezTen14PiSW_qM-nO3T7arSQuorkAzcshtWR/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBEbvG0grbUtwQspnWKtJNI_s9maWz2yzKLIwme2fENOMleW68dWoJD8EIwbNLzXqdS9k8RAyr9nKc6e347RJB9TWL2JkZ89LHHNt8rOgimOLLi2A2E7caQMtIIUz2dKhk96-lUkBPSI9/s1600-h/P1060163.jpg"><img title="P1060163" style="display: inline" alt="P1060163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1UiS7jAx3zSeeot1dRMUFrLBjk2IZ_Gh-nLjedHYmgwy_1I_sBueDVOcQ-l6aKvAE94WG-lSIG30wNrffqYz_XkKrJJQho5NIAe0NllB5AXche3RMJGVdvsyCEG-TO8ZlEZe-1G5azf0x/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1VrQgBFtKoI0GojjBql5Ly0AjXNra5VM7S25bZJbJRJR4JFKMUM4ANmGF4qgeEZkXzHEaA7477oXiJTfBmtK7BmlK1NL7wgcZAZGYzqTNafX8gG-_4iRu9M5YTS-ATNlR32bxGgdUzWjG/s1600-h/P1060164.jpg"><img title="P1060164" style="display: inline" alt="P1060164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjPDW8Hnwk8uxxEjVeohlLs_DYTol9fVmwTZ-Xo1QDhVEoo4SGnImNooc8F3mtRw0Q9SrPzGws7qHnEHitFPY35nKFR5sFC32yDAWjlyXIn4Dpijlle6T5ru3_kBDM8rEL5HCFhrgvfj4r/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKJt1I0MvdB4VA9uiovR09KoSUnl6ReBxQwkvAVerPx2kns23YXsdBNfyUxXHeNp_KfZt60eWNjLoAMFzUSspVyTszBlTHlt-G4DlqTX5nYnBhk1IDLpTuR0syuX6qvF41yLdXRD1QunWG/s1600-h/P1060168.jpg"><img title="P1060168" style="display: inline" alt="P1060168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikCf0GQLiVFs9e_d5bd-NToAuOqt4PqHA9twdKox3IkiVZftfohsPx3TkzMAbV4SWrOQo7xFI0hJt91OnVJuqY0_37x0sSgkFCcOTPeA9d2GXQcMJ_tb1KZRkgrs9Tm6ui9JLO6Majl0WB/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Back to the city center…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpSiYia1Bgqe3VrgpkJct7cIv8cH3HzpDQd7qPStDlGzV32bYoUu9VX9s-DYed1CTkTSp2yqDibtORn4pSx0STiMzIdxk1m4WRzSLo-sdt-N3c2OBWcTs2MtpGlycsrUD8CjLViqaCrhDq/s1600-h/P1060170.jpg"><img title="P1060170" style="display: inline" alt="P1060170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zTz-YF9gw0Xp3YfaYGeyI8GZSax55BfjVVxgYhkXz-TzN1G3NOJ6S8EZBhg5DpkGewrnqx5ybU5FaTrU4d01CB-eecHQxnavW4eS18TBZTvYIzKfq6C_3qQvxY_P5Z4cpkC6G_-wru-v/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4-dBSij3ei3B4tgKnKSub1AFtE-qcq7aAXNiXwk_85Wi7_LTzXuZP64VuJEGQ4vDC3XrtmFuKJcX5IV0KrW0tV9_Gvxy8aUBH76Ys2WxO7yfI4YgLSvYzQ9zlotK3I5R8LkOGPhKTP13G/s1600-h/P1060173%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1060173" style="display: inline" alt="P1060173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheQnCIlzaelE4ICYRhrwjdLMD1Eqsg66u1JIn-K3eFLjS1r9xeMTRvmRQpZphpI98p6IaTE3PZPAf2HTo_BDAIipz5PWEuKamz0kMT0kz_zkdbhtlnx8i2sfmzCmOIoKOQY-levBuh08BN/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… and once at the room, I decided to take a shower after this long, hot, humid day. Waited a few minutes in the shower for the water to warm up—nada. Cold water.</p> <p>What a lousy hotel; easily nominated to be of the worst hotels for the tour so far.</p> <p>Sleep.</p> <hr /> <p>July 25, woke up very early for the last early morning travel itinerary for the tour: depart Carcassonne 6:47am, arrive Narbonne 7:19am; depart Narbonne 8:23am, arrive Barcelona 11:48am. Five hours of travel over two trains. There were other routes available, but they all included a large number of connections; when planning for the tour, it was decided to keep things simple and just bite the early morning bullet.</p> <p>Walked like a zombie towards Carcassonne’s central railway station. Took a small detour to see if there’s anything open in the city center to grab some breakfast from—nada. Headed to the station, waited patiently for the train, boarded… good.</p> <p>Short ride, about half an hour, and arrived to Narbonne. Narbonne? yes, Narbonne. Have I ever heard about it before? no, I didn’t. But there I was, 7:20am in a railway station in the middle of nowhere, seeking breakfast. Surprisingly, there was a restaurant inside the station offering all sorts of goods. Took a sandwich and was glad to receive a mug that seemed to contain a proper cappuccino… until I tasted it.</p> <p>That was, I’m pretty sure, <u>one of the worst cup of coffee I have ever had</u>—not only in France, but anywhere. It was so terrible I wanted to spit it out and vomit at the same time. Whoever serves such coffee should be tried at The Hague for war crimes. Hey Frenchies, what the hell is your problem with coffee? how can you be so brilliant, coming up with all sorts of amazing foods, but you just keep screwing coffee up?</p> <p>Of course, very little can be done to ruin a morning further once it was ruined by a disgusting beverage. Kept sitting in that restaurant, killing time. Finally, it was time to head to the platform to get the connecting train.</p> <p>Cabin’s door open, a mature couple boarded ahead of me. Now, they were trying to fit a large suitcase—one of a few that they were carrying—into the coach’s luggage rack, without success. They kept trying, and as the luggage rack was located right at the entrance to the cabin, others couldn’t board.</p> <p>And they kept trying and retrying, for about a minute.</p> <p>I was already inside the train, at the entrance (waiting for the couple to be done with their luggage limbo), and so was the Dutchman; others, however, were still on the platform. A staff worker called me and gestured that I should move forward; I pointed at the couple (who were still trying to shove that suitcase in), gesturing back that I am myself stuck and can’t really do anything. I wasn’t in the mood to start arguing with people—not even to ask these people to move away and let others board. The Dutchman, however, took a different approach and informed the selfish couple that there were people trying to board. Only then, the Royal Couple remembered that they’re not the only passengers on that train, and cleared the way.</p> <p>Train went on its way… and I realized that I won’t be visiting France again this tour. Moreover, I realized that I’m entering Spain, and will remain there until the end of the tour.</p> <hr /> <p>Spain.</p> <p>Distant, sour memories from the last tour crept in. I “vividly” recall the Spanish leg of the 2010 Get Lucky tour as being the hardest of them all: tough travel, insane heat, and inability to eat properly as the Spanish, like the French, have their own dining hours. I also remember being very close to a breakdown when <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-multiusos-fontes-do-sar.html">my luggage was lost en route to Santiago de Compostela</a>. And that <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-nueva-plaza-de-toros-de.html">bus ride to Córdoba</a>…</p> <p>I went through hell in Spain in the last tour, which explains why I started feeling anxious during the train ride to Barcelona. Yet, I had hope.</p> <div class="indented"> <p><em>Please, Spain; I come in peace. I’m ready to make amends. Let’s work on our relationship together.</em></p> </div> <p>Half an hour delay along the way, and finally made it to Barcelona’s main railway station, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barcelona_Sants_railway_station">Barcelona Sants</a>.</p> <p>Barcelona Sants is a big station, serving as a hub to many train services in Spain; and just as big and central this station is, it is also inefficient way beyond the point of ridicule.</p> <p>Just to give you an example of how stupidly things are done here: for train reservations and ticketing, there are about 20 different counters. The counters are grouped as follows:</p> <ul> <li>First group of counters serves passengers who are interested to buy a ticket to a train leaving “soon”. What is “soon”? well, I couldn’t find an answer to this question by looking at any sign, either because this information wasn’t available on any sign or because the information wasn’t available in English. </li> <li>Second group of counters serves passengers who are interested in “advance purchase” <em>for long‐distance trains only</em>; I suppose that “advance purchase” pertains to trains that are not leaving “soon” (see bullet above). Also, it raises the question: what constitutes “long‐distance trains”? is this some sort of elementary knowledge that tourists are supposed to already know? </li> <li>Third group of counters serves passengers who are interested in buying tickets for <em>medium‐distance trains only</em>. </li> </ul> <p>Now: for the first and third groups of counters, you have to wait in line: that is, physically stand in a line‐up—a separate line‐up per group of counters. For the second group of counters, <em>you need to take a number</em>: standing doesn’t really grant you any precedence.</p> <p>In other words: if you’re a tourist, new to Barcelona or to Spain in general, and you can’t communicate in Spanish—good luck trying to figure things out. Such a scheme is so inefficient, that the very thought that there are people out there who deem this “acceptable” makes me not want to belong in this planet anymore.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>You don’t need to be a genius in mathematics, or have any background in the mathematics branch of <em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queueing_theory">queuing theory</a></em> (indeed, there is a branch in mathematics that deals specifically with queues, how they’re formed and what’s the best way to manage them) to realize that they way ticket reservations are executed in Barcelona Sants makes absolutely no sense at all. It’s just ridiculously inefficient.</p> <p>Then again… just like in France… some cultures are perfectly fine with inefficiencies. “That’s how it is, so shut the hell up”. They prefer the familiar disorganization over any sort of change. Disorganization and inefficiencies don’t bother them enough to trigger a drive for change for the better. How can that be? beats the hell out of me.</p> <p>Really, hats off to all those who are capable of subjecting themselves to such a lifestyle. Shows a lot of mental strength; I’d lose my sanity in such a place a million times over already.</p> </div> <p>Luckily, <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-pavello-olimpic-de-badalona.html">I already suffered in this station before</a> so I had some background knowledge about how to find my way around. We had to do some travel arrangements:</p> <ul> <li>Reserve seats for travel from Madrid to Gijón, as these seats couldn’t be purchased anywhere else, <em>including Renfe’s website</em> (<em>Renfe</em> is the name of the Spanish railway company. Don’t even get me started talking about their website: complete and total garbage); and </li> <li>Buy a train ticket for Ingrid, who decided, as a last minute thing, to catch the concerts in Madrid and Malaga. </li> </ul> <p>Took a number… #444. Counters currently serving #340 or something. Great. 100 people in front of us. What do you do? you use the time efficiently, to simplify your life later:</p> <ul> <li>Find the metro route to the hotel. </li> <li>Find the actual entrance to the metro system. </li> <li>Calculate whether metro day passes should be purchased, rather than individual tickets. </li> <li>Figure out how to use the metro’s ticketing machines. </li> </ul> <div class="indented"> <p>Oh, ticketing machines. Here’s another example why Barcelona Sants is a stupid, obnoxious railway station: this station serves many types of regional trains, and each such regional train system carries its own ticket format. Now, in an efficient culture, you’d expect someone to come up with the bright idea of constructing a machine that will simply <em>ask you</em> what train you’d like to take, where from and where to—and will simply print a ticket for you. Simple, easy. Right?</p> <p>Right. I mean—right, unless you’re in Spain. Over‐complicating things is key. <em>Each train system has its own type of ticket and is served by its own type of machine</em>.</p> <p>And if you thought that wasn’t enough… there’s a particular regional train system called <em>Rodalies</em>, offering many stations labelled as <em>R1</em>, <em>R2</em>, <em>R3</em> and so forth. Now, as it turns out, there are <em>two types of ticketing machines</em> to purchase tickets for the <em>Rodalies</em> system: one type serves all “R” trains except for a few, and the other type of machine serves those few remaining “R” trains. Why? I don’t know, just thinking about it makes me want to cry.</p> <p>Of course, there’s a sign nearby telling you all of that, including how to distinguish between the two types of machines (which are very similar, externally)…</p> <p>… and the sign is in Spanish only.</p> </div> <p>The time it took to do all of the above was enough to get us about 50–60 people closer to the start of the line. Another 20 minutes wait and finally, #444 came up on the screen and two travellers found themselves storming towards the counter.</p> <p>Thought the mess was over? think again. Now came the language barrier between the traveller and the staff. Asking for 1<sup>st</sup> class seats for the train from Madrid to Gijón, we were told that the train we were asking for—pretty much the only train we could take in order to keep the schedule manageable—was full. It was rather unbelievable, and upon inquiring again, the guy simply turned his computer screen at us to demonstrate. It was in Spanish, but even I could notice that there are still seats available. Turned out that, somehow, he neglected to hear the expression “1<sup>st</sup> class”; 2<sup>nd</sup> class cabins were indeed full.</p> <p>What a relief.</p> <p>Ticket for Ingrid—done, and then decided to have lunch right in the station. A nice buffet‐style restaurant provided acceptable food for acceptable prices. That done, went to the metro; a few stops to the <em>Catalunya</em> station, located in Barcelona’s famous <em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Rambla,_Barcelona">La Rambla</a></em>, and then a few minutes walk to the hotel for the night, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187497-d232780-Reviews-Turin_Hotel-Barcelona_Catalonia.html">Hotel Turin</a>.</p> <p>I have been to Barcelona before, during the 2010 Get Lucky tour: not only was I in Barcelona for the concert back then, but I also chose to spend a few days in Barcelona <em>after</em> the tour to unwind. During those few post‐tour days, I have seen much of Barcelona; thus, I really wasn’t too enthusiastic about seeing it again. At a glance, it seemed as if nothing was different in <em>La Rambla</em>: still, piles over piles of tourists, street merchants selling nonsense… very crowded. As it was close to 3:00pm, weather was hitting hard, and Barcelona being located on the shore of the Mediterranean Sea, humidity kicked in pushing weather further up the ladder of intolerability. Altogether, that didn’t provide for much motivation to see much of the city anyway.</p> <p>Checked into the hotel—brilliant room, compensating for the ugly room I was forced to spend two nights in while in Carcassonne—and decided that the best place for me in Barcelona would be to stay in that room for as long as possible. This plan, of doing nothing, was carried out perfectly: didn’t even bother to leave the hotel until it was time to get some pre‐concert dinner.</p> <p>The venue, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poble_Espanyol">Poble Espanyol</a>, was located about half an hour by foot from the hotel… hand half an hour by public transit. Walking it is, then. Half an hour later, arrived at the venue, sweaty, sticky, thirsty… as sweaty, sticky and thirsty that half an hour walk through insane humidity could turn you.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGjjPzSdykVpP96jgvx9XqCoY7_8WiAw2vJnGbi-obd-RUkKS9a9h8gGQwuUUOJipZFpqIIfLhxAQor1UcAxeCJpKy45irA-yFbjk4P8tJs_8UxuSakKknV-dAoYSBuryDOTQGZ8zJERys/s1600-h/P1060174.jpg"><img title="P1060174" style="display: inline" alt="P1060174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyfomiYOfSaaGzExeXW8eiADMVrdWylxf49doOq69AwvazwYPapIId64l2Gi9YWsnTdWmdbVFNbrVVy8Tpc-lnCBNBdr_6cHewc84V4t0jpBTLtR7zaZgEsbkQd3jiv6kYnujXCnqTcp3R/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKETToqdkG72rPVYAb9a2pSAQld3eu9oQrOOpAdwXKPc7ylH3gIvmUn3S6FP8mToqMKjdGqoZpO_1Zuu924vLDGn9WM2W7wkJbj-zJdw7sWoo7L_btHG3n_-SnfKIRs-UCoTMXVubZ7rHj/s1600-h/P1060175.jpg"><img title="P1060175" style="display: inline" alt="P1060175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtk2Du30R14Qkd6cnKXnPQKNSJXzEblLqXM1RHY1T5vUUL-LyjDSB0CVSifg2vyavuVXOy5dTbmAycFaeU9eu3Dnwal30jQvu0L3bhgSmE3qW98A6TJBb9RCQjynFZf2FrkoU5WcVlpcw-/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The venue was already full when I got there, about 30 minutes before the concert’s scheduled start time. It’s a beautiful venue: “Poble Espanyol” means “Spanish Town”, and the goal behind its design was to aggregate various Spanish architectural styles in one location. It was constructed in 1929 and was kept, ever since, as a museum.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7eBjBvdi7XT6q4LG2hUVsZs8rIVPsrJqgjo5iMiTZNrY0eMAGWXCzu3d17OqyvvQpc5k_op1p1dVfIao8kwOPSUtqoFHfZZD5b0vlZsfG4OpYhG10dBzOrzYtps5o1yovT4xq9WAcS9Q/s1600-h/P1060176.jpg"><img title="P1060176" style="display: inline" alt="P1060176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY4QL37-fYgrIrSxqo8xHlZ4DCkwJlQHjDyp_k5HOqD7fV1YiczzL2Z4Uer5V6paBb-YQu8ijs-hPBXNhNPwz_if2r-tuPfTa0X-dRzZ1XvotpNP637VgkFIwWsS2CDPwR6tL-plOqrj6J/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDPBZ_ZcJqCqLSOhAEvTB7YBL_H1MJzWBC786g3XspApFOWe5jMAYm4x3tsy40-r_AvUOTsQiucYPzIpZwj9ByF-PjFr-rVWr0F7HrjTOjYBGOTH-Y1jiBcMhQO_i06eU8wp91WHKo-Iq/s1600-h/P1060177.jpg"><img title="P1060177" style="display: inline" alt="P1060177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoVDY6dL6EaWVR7wffitssJ9Mfj-zj3c6JsAGYx3slAC8vAGq7mRs5glxoTvp3x2C_bV1E_A9tlz7r0IOGFsjJbLwjBNOZ1b0uoc9Fn-jQS18qZa-Pl8lA3Tp-L6nZBGRaLsb7Eos0o5P-/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHKZoPoqg7P8-FtoCpYdmSUqTjMAIbRKeFvka5LoIV6KPAcIVnn-VNtVnZXuVchHrQm4_14iz3g5ODHnh-FzvpebC3eovIit5uyGyBd6Ae2lJUAnfSqsxhqkLFNYYckjkidU-ZxFhszKBe/s1600-h/P1060178.jpg"><img title="P1060178" style="display: inline" alt="P1060178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiigicX0gp1fiK15gZU53GaIHxKx8JahtOaIpOaqPppUjXWlKpBSt6wA1bFq0xvZxfIMFxQsJmAPfcBB7r6czooZ2jw6SDzhdOgleBjUjDKqBM0qWg0Ehji6ULZ2YfSFWYvm8iutSbPNSTS/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlfIgUCYm4xhyphenhyphenT9qsbA9FfPo6pRh-fppXVpWnVPufXfqJqhouDh3Kn7Nt9gcHGV-MbeLlvgUZEyZvnvn4G1i5ZUhyW6_wyYLUp6PIr-NOsedc18JqLbt0priT48BFTa0mTUiR_vko19iww/s1600-h/P1060179.jpg"><img title="P1060179" style="display: inline" alt="P1060179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Z6v1pNGE1INg5XC87rIMc7M3zpwMP0UbpqMKvv_ZWEwihyKu8H-msc596saz5yYQ7ZGFzkLZ0xsj65y9Xo94FtZq0Ot2Y_svS6z3718C-yj5bHVG_ctxpKE2RUkIRgIg9jhlEQb_pJXE/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO_I80bjBzdPmViZPPNdGQHaGe3zJ5rTMPhnvsDD32B4Q3NsqvSFVvdhAVSSrxdxBlF2b43FX2r2xnI5BpMUU-SLFhCYUNppIymenR9-4p3EBQRUlc0xGik074Nrx4HOyoOFn1J7pmtUa2/s1600-h/P1060181.jpg"><img title="P1060181" style="display: inline" alt="P1060181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-aB_6PJinT-U3-8V8SB-P1v4hPZ3ci54Ab2uFcmfjtvsdmWo2lEMCX-54PZFLQvCLw2APMO5Qmvq5Q1Q60uG9pTriHjdhiEvbqCEkQU3Nw27M2hn0doT_e4EIhYYsuSND7fSt_Q1LpMrd/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzF3uTkAgUY4kDDyjIqifOQdoMGjp5TrCr5y85vx-fDq56Bq9V6b5Ea6mUE2n5wwOcdba_ZmZz41P_zwlQfgzCwpV4Pbqmp4RWIvztDcEauPWwDpqRHglDeJqXRByuNYTxHWmhuUv19Ou/s1600-h/P1060182.jpg"><img title="P1060182" style="display: inline" alt="P1060182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXmJmvWDtzUgCfd1LHZYLSbGNDAG-85xyHhvTZLVg0ztWSU-Y3psA8Wbx_8TbdEHeHZpxaezgQpSd5wjj1pLpxUI6recIHSnRozTbxis9mL-vS71osZoiQ8mdWMCpdbkZ_qMnc1GewILs_/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The venue, shaped as a square, is surrounded by many shops, mostly restaurants and cafes, most of which were very active well into the concert. I spent my time watching the concert from the very back, often walking around the venue to get a sense of the atmosphere here—and didn’t even begin to think about the mere possibility of even <em>trying</em> to find a way to the front: it was very crowded, and audiences in Spain are a tad crazier than their French and Italian counterparts: an “excuse me” isn’t likely to grant you access anywhere.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdV0x-TUV620ePsqM16z6PAhDAaTulpmmyXg8NtA418FC3y3xCU9hmRxzeNYkA9KK5C6evAV6GwVbA0jqJArvFgrV5sv6tXVo57X5JJn2s-6zlzPgIFK6Ftv34Fouizp4p0FN7Fyj9tRa/s1600-h/P1060184.jpg"><img title="P1060184" style="display: inline" alt="P1060184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzrBmXxri6RYcxKaKOaeR-mpCdlb4T_dD0CMZFx9AeJAQJDBNgUUekExgNZv4jE18Pi7MLi8NNr2-gYaSW8JNyawvx8faez1sfAN4_IydMqw7nf3WHvE95DticAZwPVEKRBRAbkt3HeyPE/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9tLKbKLg5LSMGhgN5zOZUJoppXPj6OsaVyJbrwY6i0tzn6zpWKvchTgr9M8XYNMj_tkeNAuyus0uPmManw786SCxgMW0uCJK9QzYK62hWssnG6R8VJ1mqdDK7EoinGjlCWGLTBpqCOB2u/s1600-h/P1060186.jpg"><img title="P1060186" style="display: inline" alt="P1060186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHP4HiIFBWnPv2PiICvtHhLRT6xyqewjZBMNACHDw2LHvIBguAXfsxeFn1hfEFFjvmrP5DQ_RJYDp1pwrpooNlRdLMkN0XLAzEouBo0Sb3nv02iY9IFAEdi7lsMCjtBFieHQW6DMCqZ6vT/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Concert ended around midnight. Watched the encore while standing close to the exit, as I predicted that leaving the venue with the masses would be a terrible experience. Less than half an hour walk back to the hotel, and the streets of Barcelona appeared rather active: cafes and bars open all over the place. It’s a city that seems to rarely be sleeping, much like Tel Aviv (although Tel Aviv, really, <em>never</em> sleeps).</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XS4zAjpRuNwyY17tREPZV-8QQn5RXdoPkm9t1Wc6SHaqgcIUyOnEWS3ZBeZhuXZiMSyEAi6vrE8fCvsIaxCOhaWJSgw5CviecIRcFn-900K83rHbbhIbdm7GpftVpDeVYPk4vIjgXtiP/s1600-h/P1060187.jpg"><img title="P1060187" style="display: inline" alt="P1060187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQVDliea2hbxwXn9f1PRC36nybVqCrT4mRD6H5QuqobUAnoU2e99PQd1DcTM6aQ1okh1iAys1o81mavc0_UODud4fW2dfVLAT0ABkMZ8CQ5WQWFlL4uZmuoTMKuJ6D24VSQemk81lMwR2D/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I, on the contrary, prefer to be sleeping as much as possible nowadays. Up to the hotel and was very happy to call it a night.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post while on board the train from Madrid to Malaga. I’m a little behind with posting, but tomorrow will be a great opportunity to catch up with everything: the longest train travel day in the tour, crossing Spain from south to north, about 11 hours of travel.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-60684078339772155292013-07-26T07:20:00.001-07:002013-07-26T07:20:26.164-07:00Better Late than Never: Facebook Comments Enabled<p>I should have attended to this earlier than 6 days to the end of the tour…</p> <p>Better late than never, though. Starting now, you can comment on blog posts using your Facebook account. Right above the traditional comments’ section, you should see the familiar Facebook commenting button.</p> <p>Enjoy.</p> <p>On to complete the ongoing post…</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-71278377729104633782013-07-24T07:34:00.001-07:002013-09-10T08:37:18.314-07:00Lucca, Italy to Zürich, Switzerland to Lörrach, Germany to Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois, France (July 20–22, 2013)<p>After spending a relaxing yet interesting day in Lucca, the God of Travel decided to offset joy with yet another long travel day: leave Lucca 6:48am, arrive Firenze (English: “Florence”) 8:06am; leave Firenze 9:00am, arrive Milano 10:40am; leave Milano 11:10am, arrive Zürich 2:51pm. Eight hours of travel in total, following an alarm clock assisted wakeup at 5:30am.</p> <p>Woke up half asleep, which is all that was really needed: more than three months of travelling, I’m going through my morning routine like a robot. Not much brainpower needed to kick‐start the day.</p> <p>It was too early for breakfast in the hotel, and Lucca’s central railway station doesn’t offer much in terms of dining, at least not that early on Saturdays. Hungry, arrived to the railway station about 15 minutes before the train’s departure, after walking through Lucca’s (mostly) empty old city center. The <em>Piazza Napoleone</em>, the venue for last night’s concert, was as empty as a post‐concert Piazza can be: completely devoid of people, except for a few city workers cleaning up the mess. So many plastic bottles and other sorts of litter, left behind by people who are, themselves, litter.</p> <p>The two clocks I passed by in Lucca’s central railway station were both wrong: one was a few minutes ahead, one was about 10 minutes behind. It’s a sad world when you can’t even trust clocks in train stations: my mobile phone is my guide here, thank you very much. Short delay, train came by… short one hour ride to Firenze.</p> <p>Firenze. Heard so much about this city. Had slightly less than hour layover there so exploring the city was out of the question, although I would have liked to do that at some point. Instead, ten minutes were spent looking for a proper place for a breakfast snack, and the search ended where it began—a nice cafe right inside the station.</p> <p>Next train to Milano’s central railway station, Milano Centrale. It’s the fourth time this tour that I’m stopping in Milano Centrale, so it’s a familiar one. Saw a sign leading to a coffee bar at the upper level; never been there before so thought I should try it. Three elevators there, two were not working—of course, remind me again which country I’m in?—and the third one got me up for another sandwich bar offering mediocre sandwiches and terrible service.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I love Italy: it’s a beautiful country, people are generally warm‐hearted and nice… but having said that, for me, Italy is a great destination for a different kind of trip—certainly not for a trip involving being dependent on so many service providers and when time works against you. Service providers here seem to be cutting too many corners rendering things to go unpredictable at times—and predictability is key when you’re following such a busy travel schedule.</p> <p>I wrote, in one of my earlier posts, that virtually my entire life consists of looking for inefficiencies, getting bothered by them and—to the extent possible—help fix them. Hell, that’s exactly what I do for living, and I’ve been in the same line of work (although in many different roles) for 18 years now. Now, if you are like me—getting irritated by inefficiencies—then Italy would be a very interesting experience for you: disorganization and inefficiencies are almost everywhere.</p> <p>You may argue that “efficiency” is a subjective term, and what constitutes “efficient” for Italians may be considered “inefficient” in mine; but you’d be wrong. “Efficiency” means “doing more with less”, and that’s <em>not</em> subjective. For instance, having four people working in a ticket booth, when three of them are busy handling one client <em>together</em> at a time and a fourth one doing nothing—that’s inefficient, no matter where you’re from. Still, they do it. Why? because efficiency here is simply not appreciated. They don’t care about it at all, and for those of us who cherish efficiency—well, tough luck: we’re visitors here. Accept the Italian way of life, or suffer the consequences. Adjust your trip’s style to correspond with how things are done here.</p> </div> <p>Departed Milano on time and bid Italy goodbye: with all the challenges involved in following this concert tour in Italy, still, I’ll miss it. It’s a great country to be in and I’ll certainly be back.</p> <hr /> <p>The train ride from Milano to Zürich takes about four hours. As you approach Switzerland, the scenery becomes increasingly scenic, and once you’re in Switzerland, you just want to get off the train and walk. It’s such a beautiful country, and for me, it’s as close as Europe gets to British Columbia: a rare combination of stunning natural scenery, and polite, courteous people. I would consider the Swiss to be very lucky: of course, this consideration is purely subjective, but as it is me who is writing these lines, I am in the liberty to say that, if I were to rank European countries based on parameters that I consider “important”, Switzerland would rank first.</p> <p>Arrived in Zürich and immediately went to the hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g188113-d236088-Reviews-City_Partner_Hotel_City_Zurich-Zurich.html">Hotel City Zürich</a>, thinking I’ll get some rest after this long travel day. As soon as I exited the city’s central railway station and started walking towards the hotel, I already knew that I was going to love this city: in many ways, it reminded me a lot of Vancouver. It is far from being crowded (at least comparing to other major European cities); roads and sidewalks are relatively spacious; natural scenery is visible from virtually everywhere; and, contrary to Vancouver, it was evident that this city has very efficient public transport infrastructure: tram stations everywhere, with dedicated lanes and digital signage.</p> <p>Switzerland is an expensive country to travel in, and Zürich, relative to other Swiss cities, is itself expensive. The hotel for the night was thus expensive as well, but it delivered: great spacious room, fantastic condition.</p> <p>A few friends, including Philipp (who is local to Zürich) and Ingrid (who is not local to Zürich, but somehow makes herself local everywhere she’s at), had plans for a get‐together in a restaurant nearby, offering a great patio with excellent view of the water (we’ll get to the scenery soon, hold on). I had to do some writing and could definitely use some alone time after the last few stressful days so I decided to stay at the hotel for a while, catch up with things and get social a bit later.</p> <p>After uploading the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/valletta-malta-to-pisa-and-lucca-italy.html">previous post</a>, I headed out towards the meeting point, while checking out that restaurant’s offering via my mobile. Turned out to be German food, but I had the craving for something else. A bit more research and I decided to visit some Thai restaurant, located at the east bank of the river.</p> <p>On my way there, I started realizing just how beautiful this city is.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTQOaa1ep8BF4PKNJF9cFyHPVfeM5Vtepr984iXrYNIDcQGUocyU1InBhXorNbljKk0vuogcdajlM8NwZlB3ZVgAJGf8bTawxGwysgXWv36Uy91CpPPQj3O1WsMRjuzHX_I1CPdrC8H6-l/s1600-h/PANO_20130720_170346%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130720_170346" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130720_170346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5XYbYiPMd5QU2QJxdNWJZ3KFuhLzGcfLFHUtBH_LTvqLEoNr16Xs8XmmY9QNB6xTBwGT-DaARTufthRZjPZxdgHwanINs1QLgzmmgthsxMDdAU_xpsX1Y05WI2JjcFFjuzZmSO6e-Aky/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="215" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1SJHNJ8TTe9XrRIeN9Oc2Ba-5E7rjMNAE8JwH-iU64TfUVBunTMxco40MuMqYsDjoh8j9VwHdFNfeTwKZ7qsj2gepVyhc8inrHEqENLzHY2xrgROtTmlx3z4czqHtJ5LxWQ3EI-MBacA/s1600-h/PANO_20130720_170356%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130720_170356" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130720_170356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIRXnvC6Xqo34pCyfcRacFBZxTACwISDrix_oLaHr6R219jd9I21Vw6ytBZ-oyQg-Gw1R4bbdOVspdmyIx3aFY_L2YdsH8M29WbISQvb_HXMZrLACr1LX9RwhLh4tMeOjTJY_QN14Vspt-/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="205" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFDzR1V0e8Dzysrk-AfH47VGDHYEXrXnMqRdT-tREvkAoxavpMLQ_wg7pIuP2X_Xdx1idpXoNkPzwd9NWdvTLwW3rVFfUHBU-PYBUAvo-Bz7YdAbO_UxDqNQJlgwvEsaYAC1LPzGAy1TAZ/s1600-h/PANO_20130720_170508%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130720_170508" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130720_170508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHA1CDJ79q-2d1h7dQ2XSyRDAii1FjyKsOLka9J3MPDApP4lZSvyN6Kl9k_4ljoeigDwCdbvIiuVbEdrvzOMglKOF50_9ahv2KW6CKwsUgNfWfrDYMSXy_LNX1nprLZUx4Pb1yRWX9Ks1E/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="273" /></a></p> <p>Once crossing the bridge to the east bank, the terrain is no longer flat: various stairways provide opportunities to explore the city in different altitudes. Beautiful streets boasting clean, coloured buildings; strong attention is given here to clean looks—clean, but not boring: you won’t find cheap dirty metal sign here, even for a simple tobacco store. If you own a shop in Zürich, its exterior should better be clean and appealing, otherwise you won’t “belong”.</p> <p>The Thai restaurant I had set my eyes on turned out to be closed, so I ended up in another spot—a Lebanese restaurant called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g188113-d1456830-Reviews-Noon-Zurich.html">Noon</a>. Everything in this city is expensive, and this restaurant was no exception. Good food though, going for price that’s almost double what I’d pay for a similar meal in Canada.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I am not from Lebanon, but as Israeli cuisine is a fusion of many other cuisines (mainly Middle Eastern), Lebanese “elements” made it to the Israeli culinary world. In Lebanese restaurants, I can easily feel at home. That’s why, when I was given a home‐made lemonade, I could detect that they’ve put something else in there. Turned out to be <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rose_water">rose water</a>—used, in the Middle East, as a common addition to lemonade. The fact that I was able to recognize it prompted the restaurant’s owner to inquire about my origin, to which I answered fully and truthfully, which, to my knowledge, is something that many people with Israeli background refrain from doing in encounters such as this one due to… you know. “The situation”.</p> </div> <p>Excellent meal over, and I decided to pop for a visit in that restaurant where Philipp, Ingrid et al were sitting in. That provided for another pleasant walk in Zürich’s city center.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwFCM4yR3emTSG7oFBcSdmkzMj_9aWvZkXawaifdioDo2kXyb5-L0Ie3FmmPfuYEyuMEFIm8r2JMr5ZVEZBf21lz0PHg1eHeCgHm5SD283EDvP8nj-hKinNyAo2D9QwiqRxlZmiZbNpPr/s1600-h/P1060077.jpg"><img title="P1060077" style="display: inline" alt="P1060077" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN-quf11F_yxmXRs7y1Lsrt8MSCra62Md-E4OoPuPC_9EaNxlaZFpV_bBb3uhDP1cIxSth5VdRoFTDll54KVtpHGHkLt22_nS8OyQ1b2nb7QwDNzRVkQeM1lKsGl9WczC0AHNt-vEek8Xd/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Vb7niXpcQ2EIvdEH1PidLXtdYJ8YjRpKGGsmBBdRD-Tl1ONrOzO7RJLybGhnOKz40PULqB7xjyu4qPN_PrQFNKwHUFQK70NFOgPuR7vpLOVPT0xC8WRwoK8OlpZ40vt0yCmzgZCMG6q-/s1600-h/P1060078.jpg"><img title="P1060078" style="display: inline" alt="P1060078" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnjpqK2CrGDR1Pg2xJLxlaQFJ9vfAnBRMbVvE04QjY_cGU_wjChfDIGbDBdrMCEH_CPSMBFcJFV6UeIwL5pYh-0rlVcaphTrgP5Fy6a8dLxW2q9csc7CZ6bU1nbbsNDu9YpmojA-HqPHMN/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQfhRF5VDhWS4vysBpkU2-9uTNT5y_m_btq2Tej2mPUsbbzzs2OX6KMj_mRpnosymX1EnhvwyWq9cYFucydYaI13A9xdzeAOBLp6xYaOlLcONti9fflytjv_wcUgPiSODgP-j7bCNKjhjo/s1600-h/P1060080.jpg"><img title="P1060080" style="display: inline" alt="P1060080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibQ9qtsM7-ivIDS6IYXzdCq36fLR9ZxwhMKN1fK95M3wLjisWgb4SYnYCrGC1TI5_UTxUo_RpxV-KhOXBXzIJCGpobvHQ9Quryq96Slam71vAP8pNbygFlZgA53b61gWw9OVKFop8hJGdV/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ws_tcrOgKOJMlH9dloSAFcnjIOtmbTZzp6A_roIoeDEUgzfMaQbye1CS9Sd87Zg-B4hkmY_O8kSkqw-pD0eHmrudW8QQXCj9E1KYO19hdBbn8nL50KhKglH512Wwa6Dhm6H0lKkl7myR/s1600-h/P1060081.jpg"><img title="P1060081" style="display: inline" alt="P1060081" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX4tjtHMARRmUFmraoNenRgpYRJpIqAOXQ839h3dG1EBL4fn-GexLtwe5AOckiY19cJcJFAplkM-8X6wWoNHFUV-Z36rGBxXoXT1U7ODl_90Jm-aTMFVJTfa52i6iRmmoZPX9XMvGRygwZ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <div class="indented"> <p>The last picture shows some sort of a bathing house (look closely, behind the boats on the right). I didn’t notice it when taking the picture. Turns out that this is a <em>Frauenbad</em>—an area designated for women <em>only</em> to bath and bask in the sun in. Although perfectly visible from outside (it was reported that the men’s room in a nearby restaurant has windows offering direct view of this particular <em>Frauenbad</em>), women here feel free to take their tops off.</p> <p>Which is, of course, fine. But what I don’t understand is why <em>Frauenbad</em>’s exist to begin with. Unless the Swiss society is a chauvinistic one (and I don’t know enough about the Swiss to make a judgement on that), I don’t see the point in such women‐only establishments, just as I don’t see the point in men‐only establishments. You can’t strive for feminism on one hand, and segregate your gender on another. In a way, you’re shooting yourself in the foot.</p> </div> <p>After touching base with folks at that restaurant overlooking the river and nearby lake, it was time to plan for transportation to the venue. Folks at the restaurant made arrangements to make their way to the venue by cars, but I decided to head to the hotel first and take public transport. On one hand, that was a bit of a careless step on my behalf as I knew that the venue is located somewhere on a nearby mountain; on the other hand, for some reason, I had complete trust in Switzerland’s public transport system, and took <em>Google Maps</em>’ public transport‐based route suggestion for granted. According to <em>Google Maps</em>, it should take about 25 minutes to get to the venue from the city center, involving a tram and a funicular.</p> <p>Everything worked like clockwork, including tram #3 that departed about 20 seconds before I arrived at the station. No worries, though: public transport here is very efficient even in weekends. Seven minutes later—again, <em>exactly</em> at the prescribed time—another tram came by. A few stations, took off and followed the herd to the funicular station located right across the street.</p> <p>This funicular system, taking you up to the mountain where the concert venue was, is called <em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dolderbahn">Dolderbahn</a></em>. It’s based in the city center and travels up the mountain, with two or three stops along the way. During the <em>Live at Sunset</em> festival, of which Knopfler’s concert was a part, the funicular operates non‐stop until past midnight, departing every 10 minutes. That was nice to know, especially after the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/nimes-france-to-locarno-switzerland.html">last experience with depending on cable cars to get to and from a venue</a>, in Locarno.</p> <p>The funicular on its way up was full of people cramped together like sardines. The ride up took about 5 minutes, at the end of which everyone left at once and started going to a direction well pointed to by this:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wttf6sAp_PI65tjAsVacE5WkVZjVRQ2XxKxDcXdEJfTiRBbnqlQfs5akT_UatTjwRGAPfeJGcDbX4Tr10-KvEmoZXrrl7XMV3c2IK9wa8l4Z3wv_je-EuZrVahidukCOBfBpZUfOSXul/s1600-h/P1060082.jpg"><img title="P1060082" style="display: inline" alt="P1060082" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaLot9Ci00hFjpyCKRBSpnaGaGr9-3T1ZtDSbfGjVzvK-LwTIVtKTepVsyY31J0GKB7Ry74GaYtRPpPWW72oWBvITSK6ZOz398tjYpowqE1KkBgc5D7M2rHC4XB_-ZnmoSPSPdnW4wgAOL/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It’s a short 200–300 meters pleasant walk among pleasant greens, until you see a large white fence to your left, separating you from the venue which is located, actually, below you.</p> <p><em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket distribution for this concert worked differently from any other concert: while for all other concerts tickets had to be collected on site, the tickets for this particular concert were sent to the purchaser’s mailing address. That presented a problem, as the tickets were going to be mailed after the Dutchman and I were already on the road. Fortunately, <em>markknopfler.com</em>’s ticketing office was sympathetic to the unique situation and agreed to arrange for our tickets to be picked up at the venue. These tickets were under the Dutchman’s name, which is why I found him in the ticketing office figuring things out with the attendant. Tickets weren’t there, and we were asked to inquire at the “info booth”, located a few meters away.</p> <p>At the “info booth”, the Dutchman barely finished explaining the background to the two attendants there when one of them simply called out loud “Oh! You’re Gerrits!”. It was good to have had this settled well.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Why “good”? should it not be taken for granted?</p> <p>ABSOLUTELY NOT.</p> <p>It sounds simple: the ticket distribution agency from which you bought the tickets “made arrangements” for your tickets to be picked up at the venue. In many countries where organization and order are appreciated, you could safely assume that there’s a strong chance that everything indeed went according to plan, but that’s not the case for other countries following different social norms.</p> <p>Between the ticket distribution agency to the actual people <em>on site</em> at the venue, from whom you get your tickets, there exists a line‐up of middlemen which is longer than you might think. I can think of the following entities and won’t be surprised if there are more along the way:</p> <ul> <li><em>markknopfler.com</em> service representative. </li> <li><em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket distribution service. </li> <li>The actual ticket repository held by the main distributor of tickets (such as <em>Ticketmaster</em> or <em>Eventim</em> or <em>Live Nation</em>). </li> <li>The concert’s promoter. </li> <li>The venue’s ticketing office (as tickets to events can also be purchased on site). </li> </ul> <p>All you need is one screw‐up along the chain and you can bid your tickets adieu.</p> <p>I have been to concerts in other countries where ticket collection itself—with no special arrangements needed to take place—was hell: papers over papers containing lists of all sorts; envelopes everywhere, some of them open, some sealed; people looking frantically in multiple piles containing envelopes, unsorted. Italy and Spain “star” at the list of disorganization in that regards (although, believe it or not, things were also quite hectic at England’s Royal Albert Hall). I don’t even want to think what would happen if such an arrangement had to be made for a concert in Italy or Spain; might as well not even bother getting to the venue.</p> </div> <p>Once I got my ticket, I was considered taking a walk at the green nearby the venue, but then realized that much of that green was actually a golf course, and the other green looked as if it’s encompassing a hiking trail. Would love to, but not now. Headed to the venue instead.</p> <p>This festival is called “Live in Sunset”, and I’m guessing this has something to do with being able to get a good sunset view during the concert.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmm5gMkaeMXAItMW77KUq4geQcGgjCpXF9HlAW_ykbfH0KufY4w90ZQcmwnjA_eixs99hzKgE8KOuXARD7ZYv5cg4liM84Z3q3TM4sNzuvf_lgfl7S7FCJukSgbcBzZ64427420mITo4-r/s1600-h/PANO_20130720_195948%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130720_195948" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130720_195948" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAZttYvhNi1TzkaNAC05DkXtu4z0fzN6sxe1xaKT3qofDavqMg1ZX4ZXmDRMKQfXeeqjMLaA28ms51nZ6tJiK5WraU5vpbkHN3En0dGSDlqkKXkT5VVgZoItOs6IXsmxgD8iVzO8oh8Lda/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="281" /></a></p> <p>The way the venue was organized, though, you could only see such sunset while being seated at the very back, or at the upper levels. Still, the scenery wasn’t quite bad.</p> <p>Inside the venue, there were many dining options—much unlike most other venues in this tour, leaning towards serving garbage—including actual restaurants. You could, for instance, sit at a restaurant up above and consume a good meal while watching the concert. Good atmosphere: long gone is the mess and noise of Italy, for good or bad.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBC-NNYZ2x7gGaS7cA4cTU4riL0vYM2nX40q9ZTT1rZTGxapP4xDR4dAQzAlyCsIIgMSSR00eLmuieEkhyPZBI0OgX3tsd274876IE3DFUyKSGH0ybu9oqrK1aPjysGocCxXnJKD9qvzog/s1600-h/IMG_20130720_201826.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130720_201826" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130720_201826" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRKwErP-Hpu6kRO518lqk5qelJcJhJilnZqO0JTHDUfhh7nBVYjok5HqIn8a0A2bxz0Z6PmDY3Aqt8ZYrp-r8OnSjA7An2FhPxgEIX3o0o6kdmiWcFcivgqXiX1L5si5suUiBsPGABNb0G/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Concert started on time, usual set followed by a few bulls running towards the stage before the encore while I was trying to make the opposite way—away from the stage and up to the upper levels, to see what this concert looked like from above: better, I should say. A celebration of lights, sound and very appreciative audience. I took a few photographs but they all turned out to be terrible. Sorry.</p> <p>Concert was over and it was time to figure out how to get back to the city center. I knew that the funicular presents one option, but there were also buses waiting around, each marked as “Live at Sunset Shuttle”. Good thing I inquired: those weren’t heading to the city center. Headed to the funicular, then, only to be met by a group of about 100–150 people already waiting there. We started debating whether we should simply walk down—it’s about 4km in a decline towards the city center, about an hour walk—but then decided to remain on site and let Swiss efficiency do its magic, which it did. Twenty minutes later, we were on the funicular heading down. Once touched the ground, tram #3 made its way through the station about one minute later; ten minutes after that, I was already at the hotel.</p> <p>That’s how public transport should work!</p> <p>Was a good day in Zürich. Headed to bed for a good night sleep—expecting very easy travel the next day.</p> <hr /> <p>July 21, woke up at around 9:30am, heading to breakfast at 10:00am. Good breakfast at the hotel—not extravagant as in, say, Italy, but still good—a nice opening for a relaxed day.</p> <p>The original schedule was to take a train to Basel, and then a train to Lörrach (Germany)—about 20 minutes away—and spend the night in Lörrach after the concert; however, later it turned out that the hotel in Lörrach doesn’t offer air conditioning. That, plus the fact that Ingrid and Philipp were going to stay in Basel after the Lörrach concert (the cities are <em>very</em> close to each other), prompted us to change plans, spending the night in Basel instead.</p> <p>What remained was a very simple schedule: depart Zürich whenever you want, as there are many trains going to Basel; then take the express bus to the airport, where our hotel was located (that airport hotel simplified things with regards to logistics)—about 10 minutes away.</p> <p>Checked out, left luggage with the hotel staff and headed to see some more of this beautiful city. Sunday morning, very few living souls outside—perfect for a walk. Once you cross the river to the east bank and head south, almost every moment is worthy of a picture.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8-VMPkDUuTckmUSx5rEEE86N8x5DMXJKLcKL9ccxSXmCy9inm4d2YTyTBATPW4ABNNmRA7_GHITrsbUQdA30zHt2MuJ3QF_XGcxWt3U6Zz_Ey1Ln-Pr43SE__jY-eYMjZSVfz9Eg9bUPO/s1600-h/P1060084.jpg"><img title="P1060084" style="display: inline" alt="P1060084" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtuCrAtsukFBp1OygFAJaCEcjT-PCb1nVDJM9gxfowhgf9qnp89_pyL7aPopm7kCdY9NbBdPupSdkleFfY3c9w6BlgvlQNCsM5ZgDBObwM3o2WQqIrjGsNHXsENXS7STZaJnot65ltyQ57/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7sGu7ecRiUR9HuZ71L1N_N_1iJfVxtVxZkmtqw5tRglHDj7JPpoZa_LFmOcTgMXuW1u-foWuHedsV0ZMzDjahDXpCGB80fawSRHLcopoDW44TQw8kwM5hqUh0Pi1AyChNSwj4kNV1qhGA/s1600-h/P1060085.jpg"><img title="P1060085" style="display: inline" alt="P1060085" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6gLqM69ibkh7ilrbKq6ROv7prBBkg01MSg2zctPT2US1mi9VXniirNZaS1Ap9ASTwDsD9XAAxjBrsT_3nxFZSiXUiraVrB5rY0Ohs_L5xN-oJ6K0pBQ2k_weJnxiMojmrbm7tvM7yoEV5/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Noticed this cafe, and memorized it as a place to have coffee in later.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvWRzGINcGwm5bthqHZxdYDWDxEhWic06jtAjd1iT3AP-2j4jeGB4P0vHk4yLhKbI6y-2A0SWHpq5xQZqUDFiOASUofLTucGOcJLyMgjb2MuccTd-yRHfwg-H5GBtQi1EOXzOoa2qE4Z2x/s1600-h/P1060086.jpg"><img title="P1060086" style="display: inline" alt="P1060086" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLjV2HZv0-eMDm8MdvHR99wzL2XAVJia103ct15p-deIlRB6_thxK6nVUdtBI13WmXJoLc39LwWavgT8eJcJUbmQ49EtzFP1hG-HlcVO-SLEOxM5XNo8ex26DW6qV6J8MlutdzNqf7_mko/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Kept walking almost completely randomly:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL85mLZDa6RGcbG6y5ahs4O-i5yltnnqLT2MmEM1PokK2I5kLu-hEROxITkN9xamH3qy5YJmBCMl82yH8g0I2wIC19s1ebGvPPXLJeWkobPQMOFCtbYo45q2yAIFglZgIJsHejEzYEvKQN/s1600-h/P1060088.jpg"><img title="P1060088" style="display: inline" alt="P1060088" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8825HkioWGlx-Km_5kkzayYdwGnwHxztXW7iZHLxNTRj-Lo_RaadqHcayY9sl3_c9GkzWYQzI-wI83ENJbSLEvE5y7fQS9D4tqGaaqGmnvujUVWvvmTeDbhtZMAk-MCJyRn2JDuKam-h6/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBeyBNYiRtvNfCLUwCrGmT1cRGbomq_3kYbUfNmPKvACPEUHC-Wk9Vb9t_VlPI1pogyhYxAa1qfnutFkn1U9SgLxahNCd54bQ9E9T3OLDPxP4AxvtYKCeofZp35SmrpwwK5HHlvnNR60HT/s1600-h/P1060089.jpg"><img title="P1060089" style="display: inline" alt="P1060089" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3-720OIEyWCq9ZW78zjCzXh6tI032gqbE_Rc5WJQAR3SIHlTcsqbQNyIwwCzQPEaMhICJiDujz0kbrFcpC9HYgPFDv6zo1Yv3snXFb5TAHIF7jUQnWYED1nIKoBj2qQOeBkCE0qmGwKs/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimwRh416eprkdpCWwSOkquzZEwNnPX5nOKFomRzXKfkXWV7C3rithzg-OemMj7lDy1WzkJTd6N8M4WUihoeoC3ATczoACPi2xSIqIjaGV_rircS-EZDBvzxYp_tab2tL1pblUHVh32FyG3/s1600-h/P1060090.jpg"><img title="P1060090" style="display: inline" alt="P1060090" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjIlCUDr1Ms4MqWvls7rqVngs9tPWRn8Iy08EwTxcILF8nqS-l4sIKcRU8J7wiz8yGgtXx21AkqJK9q1VMUCH0HLG5LSPOaSFBlTbPQp06l4gympvYvbDOxhyhS9nksn6u2Ybjf4XupldO/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOL9I4tCY39m_zTDJYqUTLgf3xdZZpeUiFZeinXH_wjfFL2czX4E6FfXGZ3NthwKsimcKpPVwlL_PV5ui93OEHk4joWskyiGwG8D-iuYkQrV4JOARprI6c2GuztTSm4eKm0wZP1qNVT4TP/s1600-h/P1060091.jpg"><img title="P1060091" style="display: inline" alt="P1060091" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidVMB56L6Bb1KOySvhwhQxIJ796pNWe3QSOla9Yk-saLOrNm__cjNEJSJ0yC5LoH3WOu68_fIBvmFoWziSgtkI80fv982zC_vj31zwrj64tiBEdS154kJaDCx_ZBv5HzcWcQiXRpR79AbI/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Eventually, found myself overlooking the river again, as well as the city’s beautiful churches, with the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fraum%C3%BCnster">Fraumünster</a> trapping your eyes with its beauty; you can’t look away.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8zkYMHfYwdE59re5oIHTmpSsiMgDzZnXlkGD4w7GwkG_nKHlFCsD7j4mOdMsx_gixtci5pm8a_3Wio1yNcCfr7LfEirBQkw-TjxWqZ_ZLMGXmsGDICQ6o_6lhnzRgPPzkk0kva7Yuji-I/s1600-h/P1060094.jpg"><img title="P1060094" style="display: inline" alt="P1060094" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPuRFu8J75bRCJsauSpEbTGNfdiLERZaK3u2BH7pdnMAcVdVc-zoZpyHtEH8vU17lwguVoWGqrxkNJv4AYv7yroTC17nXwZFi8P7OuTpkox0OEnn4R-YXKDReliKicq9J_oi1XymdvB8lp/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwW1Fc_BvUp6SPzgHhgmIEqyoecS0y2lUCpA7rB0W7BZ62QfNzqgfyjUUtc8D8MEKKHnEJh2sVRgTsFhMsT3RaHfZGKCtQrOeSLXI-nB_4gxu62r7wpocLD9bwJC2h89YrGUmJEYGeruO/s1600-h/P1060095.jpg"><img title="P1060095" style="display: inline" alt="P1060095" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvRoI5oWvF9liem2ujIKS1OZDhH9MrKFbvhL3i5h_-70kdNRLo6xY08xz2WwkgTn9j0HvIymC5jL8Cc3GZRaxGmxga9YpqQMwUsaFMRxnpc6LC-YACCdrNmkknbigoaDRIWAZfcFG43A3F/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>More views of the water… can’t have enough of those:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPEas4JLNNwYJPRDkafr_17x7C7j_VYFlj9_qRfMwUTWjDtuC8L5x0xZn7KhkCKu_kaVINmYRHlEyj3ID3DbRJR_jyMLQVcK4mxxI9Hj7js8Y35UlTIMFD5kZpPPxkEn5H9Cp_zcDIjWFI/s1600-h/P1060096.jpg"><img title="P1060096" style="display: inline" alt="P1060096" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLj3nsPEVh-ebGdZoDPPpOwNXlcHmt0SndxP6lD6D9Z1vkhx5QLJIlggXotP9fh4y91CkjwX67gjPa88RgkqAiEKD8_qbLrYOv_mMbFSfBPCxapGzVSio7eAOY_5p4GzwdRmYjsU-29V9S/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhslCW1jkj1opqcmKMEtk-id7ah7tLXJPVZZ_Aan_LfBuQav7bivK3oxYrJEKw-ynes_wG1VJlyHKbUseXCS4TAG1iJ7VVF_efdqx10gXKqwDMH7zgEUFmKTKxYok-sCj3wp3Wv6QXAVwI2/s1600-h/P1060098.jpg"><img title="P1060098" style="display: inline" alt="P1060098" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXm96msdFBex01Ymj6vvRlxnP3Muzzm_wpUOp-P7aV7Q0G-FFoPZanEa1LVJ4b-kM5r6tblzZvncAflzL02ns44t5mDF1D3FVCUHkxGymIDDTXZ_TehHGgJwL4m9Heq_jHC86LJ-byT-ft/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf3OVblYEq5elY1SaOU6so69cKt0HRhhq8AV03qecRKms3NJl03Jzbb6GoBuj3Dy1SyqY8UBoUxto8dySP0-_iSxcgsPH9xOeBz03cjKAgtQYhcpMoH-vLRnLxAahrpf78whiBqtapFPQb/s1600-h/PANO_20130721_121914%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130721_121914" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130721_121914" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikP_LKNgZDUMAi24s3kkg0SXrhYQietWBl_PCJY13SJ_-PKileIkWY2aTJxh9I-EkkLbLg0cGaUdBG0kNi7xRXhz0yOkLwj71GvNSAjZRIrrYnn3tySRb0GFES10scJ4QFTNpN8bQiPxae/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="226" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBTppKkf2Jl1xNb-Br7ypv83_HFH6vwb1IQF-oxQkIA7SdmlWjQG0zh6h7axxbRHTOOgJHKVgI2MmbCEnBEARi7oC-1FQuIBkbTdiGUwGYsc8G7c5ecilBoSqjcDfjTSsEgd-bIh1WFUaP/s1600-h/PANO_20130721_121928%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130721_121928" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130721_121928" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTcXnagR0kC5KDJsIkWiZYzv63GFzdaZJZvlHtEv1NyUF4QengFFssWyqzzGOjGMkxmq_7iM3m7oge6CL-xA5jjcpj0Kg3XQfkJ9h85exCHpu5-m5L5f9K_Yegy7eOjaPdvmdzEmYCiVc/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="221" /></a></p> <p>Looking over the water, it was time to do some calculations about train times, bus times and other logistics: turned out that it’d be best to leave before 2:00pm. Went back to the hotel, grabbed the luggage, then off to the central railway station located minutes away. This city is so convenient getting around in, it’s amazing. Arrived at the station about 25 minutes before our train’s scheduled departure time, only to find that there’s an earlier train departing in just about 3 minutes. Good. Boarded into a 1<sup>st</sup> class cabin that was almost entirely empty, and it was a good, beautiful ride to Basel.</p> <p>Arrived Basel’s central railway station (“Basel SBB”); a quick look at the clock (well, not really a clock. Smartphone’s clock. Not sure if that qualifies as “looking at the clock” anymore) showed that the bus, heading towards the airport, is leaving in about 8 minutes. Time to hurry.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>More often than not, trains’ 1<sup>st</sup> class cabins are located at the train’s tail; thus, you earn a convenient ride but are punished by having to walk quite the distance on the platform, to exit the station.</p> </div> <p>OK, here’s the bus… now, how do you buy tickets for this thing? oh, here’s a machine; found one.</p> <p>– “No, this machine says ‘SBB’ on it; it’s probably only selling tickets to regular trains”, said someone who claims to be understanding German and happens to be following this tour as well.</p> <p>Instead of listening to my own intuition, I decided to defer to the German‐speaking “authority”. The end result? bus went away 5 seconds before tickets were purchased… right: in that same machine. Those automated ticketing machines, apparently, can sell you many types of transport tickets.</p> <p>Another bus showed up 10 minutes later, and was quickly loaded to capacity. The ten minutes bus ride felt much longer—the bus’ air conditioner couldn’t keep up with the body heat generated by so many people—and at its end, the hotel for the night, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g188049-d634974-Reviews-Airport_Hotel_Basel-Basel.html">Airport Hotel Basel</a>, was right in front.</p> <p>Ingrid was there at the entrance, having a smoke. Always good to see this lovely woman. When Ingrid is around, you know that things simply can’t go wrong: reality seems to bend itself backward to align with Ingrid’s expectations, rather than the other way around.</p> <p>Went inside to check in, and noticed this:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjftGOiTldb9beFYjVFCYSuoPsKLvYewWHBkyYTecj7OU8KLtRScjwYBhPoTQV2AlsvkSgVR7UpJL_ijViaxpuK5OMx1_in0Oymp23PoI5jh5HEl54yYSwu1BORE6HA-WohXcCnDHRZP0K8/s1600-h/IMG_20130721_151828.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130721_151828" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130721_151828" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichwjDvwcWRGO5Ul0VowCCrjcNGeY9q9UF-l_q5d8qgElapRNK51hIlk8aHxedBcx4zBAcpZfL1K95nt0VJu9H8tB03XmnWYE0SAcvRWtLWfKjqmOgbpae8vgcfWcM5DPQiuWDueoYTO-B/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <div class="indented"> <p>Naturally, I was instinctively looking for the Hebrew writing which turned out to be nonsense. “בהך הבא” means nothing. The correct writing is “ברוך הבא”, and I can see why they got it wrong. Of course I notified them; turns out that each and every Israeli stepping into this hotel for the last five years have been telling them exactly the same thing, but management doesn’t seem to care much about it.</p> </div> <p>Upon checking in, it turned out that when you reserve a room in this hotel, you get public transport in all of Basel for free. How could we know about it? it’s written right there in the booking confirmation email. Oh well, this tour involves reservations for almost 60 different hotels, can’t expect to thoroughly read each and every one of them.</p> <p>Got set up in this beautiful room, and did some last‐minute adjustments to the hotel reservation in Madrid. I tell you, folks—no matter how much time and efforts you put upfront planning such a tour, you’d always have to revisit things as you go along. When the Madrid hotel was booked about five or six months ago, it was perfectly valid to and sensible to book a hotel located about a kilometer from the station to save a few bucks; but once you’re past 90% of the tour, spending some of it in scorching weather, you start seeing things in a different light.</p> <p>Left the hotel late afternoon, for a short drive to Lörrach.</p> <p>I have never heard of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%C3%B6rrach">Lörrach</a> before. It’s a small city—about 50,000 people live there—located very close to the Swiss‐French‐German border. Philipp, who was born and raised in Basel, says that many Swiss people used to (and probably still) visit Lörrach for the sole purpose of doing shopping, as price differences are significant enough to justify this.</p> <p>Lörrach is a short 20 minutes car ride from Basel, but still, once you cross to the German side, you somehow feel that you’re not in Switzerland anymore. The cityscape becomes more and more “typical German”. It’s interesting to witness this, given the fact that there is no real border between the two countries (as both countries are signed on the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schengen_Agreement">Schengen Agreement</a>).</p> <p>Arrived at Lörrach, getting the feel that this is a city where nothing particularly interesting is going on, except for the <em>Stimmen Festival</em> that takes place here annually. There isn’t much to see or do here; either that, or I have been looking in the wrong places (which is quite possible, as I wasn’t really spending much time looking around).</p> <p>A few minutes walk from the parking lot and we arrived at where the festival was taking place: a square right in the heart of the city center.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiEHhftCNPX6lMpt4OmHzJ_c4vMlrAjUtACmBXbQRLFbyDdv042_vcCV10mw8E23_dxHaEkhOi-VCCVpc1vNPnehDZ0p2hjdTCCQJADfzMMIJs3_mUW_uNOH5Bo2h3HApQJDgLlAp7cwP5/s1600-h/IMG_20130721_172349.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130721_172349" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130721_172349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSNJWGWFxgR5Q47cmgkOZOedrIC7wSYDc3U7NqRrgwso090co2Aqds0bnMNW0abmRLQNnWXatB_Muf8CRDI44gUyVmwYu9aRnhsF8nyQa0FHDG_Zn93IClm_pVVPKE9EtlD610JelBaEHh/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Same concept as in <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/valletta-malta-to-pisa-and-lucca-italy.html">Lucca</a>: the area surrounding the square is being evicted a few hours before the concert’s kick‐off, so only people with tickets can be present at the area once the concert starts. What was weird about this square was its size and its shape: the area in the square, from which you could actually see much of the stage, was very small. Technically, the square consisted of a few areas that didn’t even offer direct line view of the stage; and even factoring those areas in, the total size of the venue was relatively small.</p> <p>Sat down in a restaurant at the square for some dinner before the show. Typical simple German pub menu, with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tarte_flamb%C3%A9e">Flammkuchen</a> being the only reasonable option. That consumed, we went outside to collect the tickets and see how to go about actually entering the venue: these procedures are usually different when the concert takes place in a city square, and better figure things out earlier than later.</p> <p>Turned out to be a wise decision.</p> <p>The ticket collection office, located about 50m away from one of the entrances, was virtually empty when we got there. The Dutchman, seeing that the entrance queues were pretty vacant, decided to go there and catch a spot while I was picking up the tickets. I usually pass on the opportunity to queue anywhere, including concerts, but decided to make an exception this time as I wasn’t expecting to find any other, more useful ways, to spend my time in this seemingly boring city.</p> <p>Gates were opened about 10 minutes ahead of schedule and bulls started running amok towards the stage from the three entrances. As I wasn’t going to risk breaking another wrist, I decided to avoid running; fortunately, the two Dutch people I was with agreed to save a little space for me at the front.</p> <p>Upon settling in, I ran a little survey and went ahead to buy some water for a few friends who were present. The weather was hot, humid… terrible. I made a grave mistake and brought myself only one cup of water—forcing me to spend almost the entire concert dreaming about the next time I’ll ever get to feel the sensation of good drinking water on my tongue.</p> <p>Short toilet break before the concert began—luckily, not much resistance at all in my voyage back to where I started, but I’d attribute it to the fact that I knew most of the people who were in the front: many good, familiar people made it from neighbouring countries for this concert, including Amann (who saved the day after the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/rome-to-napoli-italy-july-14-2013.html">concert in Napoli</a>), and Marco—a guy from Switzerland who I am sure is the most positive‐thinking individual on the face of the earth: he could make people happy even if he was to live‐broadcast an asteroid impact on earth.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGgQmkMwJsC6UYi5bDozKNs5YDLpTm4dA7crj7oOQu67JGbpgBxRXdxzxuWT8obpNupzRX7TdcohpQXKJA_Tg7T5vw4LyQ-UAyPyAwGOmk8NH36-6CSIkyB8NCRWjrcIeRcrQ6LCFf2eXs/s1600-h/PANO_20130721_200218%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130721_200218" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130721_200218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMEUTA3kanJ46OQobQWaCVkxT_qon6tIjSIgQOHMFTSa0dFsz4v6Df2UOY6FeUU_ekcCk-0vDCRyzh58TyFCX0f4IcLgpBE5cJAsmH0MgU0A1RtXkgcxF8-c6E5Ze7J_I2GcN6NKT67R_w/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="187" /></a></p> <p>Concert started and, for the first time in <em>quite a while</em>, I felt how it was to enjoy watching and listening to this band perform from the very front in a general admission venue: it is definitely a different experience altogether from a seated show. Even though you’re standing for the entire duration of the concert, still you can lean against the fence, drastically reducing the pressure on your feet so it’s actually manageable. The band‐audience energy loop works differently in a standing show, and when you’re right at the front, you fell it each and every second.</p> <p>As the concert started before sunset, Ian and Guy made it to the stage wearing sunglasses. Temperatures were very high—I’m sure these folks would have loved the opportunity to go on stage wearing shorts (why don’t they, really?). At some point, the floor‐mounted fan aimed at Mark stopped working, prompting him to ask the crew to turn that thing on.</p> <p>Sometimes, when in the front, you need to face a few challenges. In this concert, the challenge was the lighting. As it happened, the lights positioned at the back of the stage were aimed directly at the faces of those standing in the front: now, these are <em>strong</em> lights. There were times that I had to duck or look away; others, fortunate enough to carry their sunglasses, had to wear them and take them off repeatedly. Of course, this was more of a problem at the later parts of the concert, as the sun set.</p> <p>Adjacent to the square are a couple of buildings—at least one of which was a hotel—which prompted guests (or residents) to watch the concert from their own balconies.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv6rLOuZjtIgsfBnGlvzDWh2EPdgHoO-J50cA9ZUbgxOfnE3CoknbX2SFNWyVrwhjo536eOezxuktjnIgA909k2Ta3NULY_HkXzzj6XKGNgHC1G9zNhfZO_WGJv8-26NHlXdw6H7KwlnTL/s1600-h/IMG_20130721_213734.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130721_213734" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130721_213734" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs86EdU3LnL1fVzqDPzZfwg0gGZjm0N-mxG8Gw-xL08vjgDnec9JxVBUJocpNPeQ7MffXGMqpCquOhgodJb6V96djnohdhC_BYe9rKbzgJO_X7S3lRKKgc172-mWq-Q3zAXtY8YPFc-hgp/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Took a while for the square to clear once the concert was over. Back to the car, short ride to the hotel and a few snacks at the hotel’s lobby before heading to bed.</p> <hr /> <p>July 22 was originally carrying one of the most difficult itineraries in the tour: depart Lörrach (as the original plan was to stay in Lörrach) 7:31am, arrive Basel 7:50am; depart Basel 8:31am, arrive Bern 9:27am; depart Bern 9:34am, arrive Geneve 11:15am; depart Geneve 11:29am, arrive Bellegarde 11:57am; depart Bellegarde 12:09pm, arrive Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois 12:29pm. That’s a total of five hours ride over five (!) different trains. Why? well, what can you do. That’s life.</p> <p>A few weeks ago, Ingrid decided that she will be attending the concert in Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois as well, and offered a ride. Needless to say, it didn’t take long to ponder before responding with a resounding “yes, <em>please</em>”. Once again, Ingrid saved the day; and instead of spending five hours in the morning hopping from one train to another, we had the luxury of being driven in the <em>Van‐de‐Maat‐Mobile</em>—a convertible ride in perfect weather, allowing for a scenic detour off the main highway.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhv2ORi-K5MC0gOPLwctJ_iJT2f_8Xal8eWFFXv80D9X0jabW-uCLFFEJh5LalUPsSpMaWF90L1rUjK__lzQ_BoYMX1aFmxV5lEbrUCzGrs68GPu0X-hMAPczhv6hipns9HoFKRbM4M_N/s1600-h/IMG_20130722_101432%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130722_101432" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130722_101432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjex3uYNZUseLA-hpeWU2p7IedAf0n3s26vGFhWHCraFG65m_RuJo_00aCydPU-y2G8ILVfPW0PVyeH_XSYvkDO59QY-xlGxqdxOB0-YqGI2jcnT6x0KPtqtNli9Gp_OEuHTsZifYZAd10M/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>If you were to drive directly from Basel to Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois, you’d be driving around 260km, which takes mere mortals about two hours and a half. The direct route heads south to Bern; however, following Philipp’s advice, we set the city of Delémont as a via point, as that would allow for a more scenic route along <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Neuch%C3%A2tel">Lake Neuchâtel</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Geneva">Lake Geneva</a>. Good call: the ride was nothing short of breathtaking, featuring beautiful Swiss scenery of mountains, lakes, rivers, green… whatever it takes to make for a good, relaxing ride.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissu9mdG_hgee2BjmSqjFvYxWlSfs83h9H3SBrqcH8-MS9MvwX_o31-fbMoRVKQLF-WCpG8dc_LXTJEUIZcd6s_q7sl6vmys15nV0zoUteq6XJweJNivynjSZ5WdmDKu6cgVwYUCloI-on/s1600-h/PANO_20130722_124143%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130722_124143" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130722_124143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglMbpd9VWprIdLQYs-ntbNvM7aARnb5IpYSNCfGZ05Gb5X6Czq_jcS6FuuoqtR2Dtra9cbylsNji9l15ibuSYooYuFnCSUH9t_uac-yvKckCdbRYciTyzXHFBjnaBS47upiVCm23Dthttq/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="346" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6fGDyAv7K1RgH4Y1BCLzyYYLXXaLnDEmWKpuC4JXP72-x-5BRF0d54uQh_XVK5Dhko_w2Rm9MddUXQeOQJhvyg-T9rq9fgH5KP1fFbwu9JvBaksa9pUjhIzU2phErxRLBDljs6qYsTKTG/s1600-h/IMG_20130722_124403%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130722_124403" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130722_124403" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigB0IDaX5wLJekm6QISPiO0FIOuV_nsFVKlfMJP8gy5fQXR5mQ18EBheMsjfV9brbgFyuN11xcxzexMonIBdyCazL8ifo5yLLkyJLt4Bkdjm3jgJgPu9aqbTy1Oc8xxdHq5TXr_Qt57GjB/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>Needless to say, the roof was tucked away for the entire ride, much thanks to the weatherman’s cooperation. Beautiful sunny day, would be a total waste to spend in trains.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVCZjV9yDDmDA8Dlx95KMLD5CUSyH6CY2DmhaDT3OQ6P5whmIbmXY-pWl094yGGX82Lxz8IBB_9yEbtM7t2ntdZ21nQyvRCyzXyaVp1hdLWlJuvmHmEXYBr7R1lfDdY-KE5focmm4OQyB/s1600-h/IMG_20130722_130139.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130722_130139" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130722_130139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3MWLsvo5e8SQwx2uC7etolifrEAcS04q32veztKzlJeXsK3-zOeDmyqqyQNZqtJOnenzZCRO-l7OEzCtSWURLZn1r5fGu93AODVOl1qgrpu2t0zOvsXmw9gDSxkFIij4ah7ZX2P2mBRnd/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7LQ8xE8woQpsCfLHoXgKZM6bvReuCPLL7idX4mXz71cbwGahWwIgqFFk_18wDzh0nInK4Xca27VZ17S_TihM_xD2lm_2i2NDzzYMRzisIsqRFqeTPziW3JeaKnZYjNjOC7V8z1Koh0NL/s1600-h/IMG_20130722_144608.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130722_144608" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130722_144608" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh109yijsv2d6jFtVBEB_4UYxuXoRZIBV5mVST5MiSEdrZJw-oppV5o7FNLRS5xnMPLOK0v41JuMuEclOrSK6QhFqckGxG21quWNXnjEtQMlJKi9SGFxwB4SVglF-Vb3f1by8TohVKHPC9f/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It was decided to have lunch somewhere before crossing the border to France. Came across a place called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g198830-d2212911-Reviews-O_Les_Terrasses_du_Lac-Nyon_Vaud.html">Terrasse du Lac</a>, located a few meters away from Lake Geneva.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmu-JxMeK1G5DwBRqoFch6FHIYyHFFECND5zvH74qyTxLpjyg1brzW0J8oTWnYL9i2r4IMshvxhblJRugh0TCOtl6Dh9pTyZhyphenhyphen2VOJSL9tjtyGuygrlZXhwdt5AZCv1xjPxSCR74a8iQA/s1600-h/IMG_20130722_145142.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130722_145142" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130722_145142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5qavJk4Tw1guH7Qgx42CoH0tGIHe-hM7K8HQoAqvvz7WEuzsXmUeRh9nC4n0NvC09Xa6W3RVOtjM9PZujuKU_w1_xefcooCId1lKKqEp5wASxhWdG26BPTsC6IP2ZuVr2TZtKMtZApRG/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZNu7fexAWND6nrXQTvredXWLu0mpedKv7qHL99aJFHHtNHCeoU8BwUgDwP0RPgAXYvxA9Y3Hte98ql5x1q8U2oaK5-Eeu7xdUVddxvgyuQ_bjLvnkjb23tEklVDKVhjs6vhYpEeQfIQy0/s1600-h/IMG_20130722_145218.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130722_145218" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130722_145218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTCGBUbhXCxv2HMuFWNhl9tT8xb-am-7aX0g6mptvp3VvvPxj7VrJm73_1c_RmTjsJIA6F6xQqWJ-iZSrd2GjF_8R4w0Dt-m_PXidQ7Tl7V49CoT4sgHjy45UO-G8HcaNRemQsz00qdVT/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>We were all happy for finding this place: the view from the restaurant’s terrace was second to none, offering direct view of the lake, which was there, a stone‐throw away.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBDld7RFOvvVORMorbTN_UiEvgLhc6ioQg8oumKJEV0ZNeHgUrrt_Gf463xenFVZIFAeSGyY97u4HS5WNzKIr_TH39xZQP5XrbpDjMUazEe098qKretL_2vz7IqhT9zgNqp4gYO6bkfu5S/s1600-h/IMG_20130722_145440.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130722_145440" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130722_145440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeG9zrs_2h2KZ_f4zbbe3-6kRM1-GlKb9eu_62n1G-PoYodGiCdtOKmcfLtX7OjgSI00frxc_kHXKeHy_AAHewhX_EDmjT8_c3yu-C6znKrdbYb8byFrr6bed2k_Zsi_EfzBX1sopA_IR/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLv7XxJNkrywLZNi6c_tvDa1pKokdSAVameIZf7npV6QFh38tramVontVArfJvX3eU3SnStKzw2OpeoMnbzsyw_DqSm0O7pudUmrts2iivwLX36KFuW-8AXNBBcujnMvMCndx6AFk9SpLx/s1600-h/IMG_20130722_153704.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130722_153704" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130722_153704" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8oehY8uSwpBnh232i-ttR2D6ymMo2XF8sQqIa2TJEjc42_3wyNVUY8LKwqhZhGF9mF6qLnrXUMW14DEE0j9oJRbFcT1fCcJZbAYicf6oER14-I0xewf1M1egsqQBmx-MHMgZUfzEyHkf/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Grabbed an empty table, and realized that nobody’s serving us. Headed to the counter, where we were told that the kitchen is closed, and they only serve drinks now.</p> <p>This part of Switzerland is the “French” part: there’s strong French influence in Switzerland’s southwest, close to the French border, and apparently the French’s typical dining hours’ restrictions crept through the non‐existent border into the paradise that is Switzerland. Attempts to find other places around, with an active kitchen, failed—even after visiting a tourist information center nearby. We therefore had no choice but to proceed. Fortunately, a few minutes down the road, we arrived at Nyon’s touristic parts where a few restaurants were open. Good (and expensive!) food, followed by a magnificent ice cream, and we went on our way to the final destination: Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Saint‐Julien‐en‐What?</em></p> <p>—That was my initial reaction when I read the tour’s itinerary. Never heard of this place before in my life, and I’m pretty sure that it was because there’s nothing really going on in there.</p> <p><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint-Julien-en-Genevois">Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois</a> is located in France, right on the Swiss border. I’m therefore led to believe that the tour made a stop here simply because it’s so close to a big city—Geneva is about 10km away (although in Switzerland). You could therefore think of Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois as a suburb of Geneva, but don’t say it out loud as some French may take offense.</p> <p>Weather was unbelievably hot. Ingrid decided to drop us off at the hotel and head directly to the venue, as this was a general admission concert. The city seeming to be completely devoid of any other action, we headed ourselves to the venue shortly after checking in at the hotel for the night—<a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g635583-d1015699-Reviews-Hotel_Savoie-Auron_Alpes_Maritimes_Provence.html">Hotel Savoie</a>.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Finding a hotel in Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois was <em>very</em> difficult. There’s only a handful of hotels in the area, most of them were booked months in advance, and the rest didn’t even offer twin rooms. We found this one by complete luck.</p> <p>In hindsight, though, it might have been a better option to stay in Geneva instead.</p> </div> <p>The hotel—one of those family‐run old houses turned into hotels—was far from providing a lovely experience. As this tour nears its end, I become less and less patient towards old, out‐dated accommodations, and this one was just it. Huge step down comparing to the wonderful hotels in Switzerland enjoyed in the preceding two nights. That explained why I wasn’t even hesitating whether to head to the venue more than two hours before the concert: not only Saint‐Julien‐en‐Genevois seemed to offer nothing interesting, but the hotel room <em>itself</em> begged to be left alone.</p> <p>From the hotel, it’s about a kilometer walk to the venue; and after spending two days in Switzerland, enjoying the Swiss’ perfect organization and tidiness in events management, it was time to experience the other end of the scale… and what a “treat” it was.</p> <p>The instructions for this concert were simple: box office opens at 5:30pm; <em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket holders get an “early entry” privilege at 6:00pm; doors are open to the general public at 6:30pm; and the concert begins at 7:30pm. For the “early entry” privilege, there should have been a separate entrance located right by the venue’s main entrance.</p> <p>Nonsense.</p> <p>Arrived to the venue at around 5:00pm, to find piles of people waiting by the main entrance. Now, by the instructions quoted above, a reasonable individual (I hope) would expect that the box office is located <em>outside</em> the venue, so you can collect your tickets <em>before</em> entering.</p> <p>That, however, would be too efficient; and the French, much like Italians, consider “efficiency” to be a bad word. The box office for the venue was actually <em>inside</em>, behind the venue’s locked doors.</p> <p>5:30pm arrived and passed; no doors were open, no ticket collection, nothing. I believe it was around 6:00pm when the main venue’s doors finally opened, and piles of people stepped on each other to get to the box office, located less than 10 steps away. There, again, the French sense of (dis)organization shone in its brightest lights: there were <em>five people</em> working at the box office; <em>four of them selling merchandise and only one handing out tickets</em>. Yes: one person had to give out tickets to dozens and dozens of people who were instructed to collect their tickets at the venue.</p> <p>Line‐up? HA. What line‐up? people were climbing on each other begging the tickets’ God for attention. Jungle’s rule: the strongest you were, the earlier you got your ticket.</p> <p><em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket holders were given a shiny yellow wristband. Once past the venue’s main entrance, wristband wearers were instructed to gather in a particular fenced location, where they’ll be allowed early entry to the venue at 6:45pm.</p> <p>Of course, 6:45pm came by and passed as if nothing. So did 6:46pm and 6:47pm. It was more or less 7:15pm when the fences were pulled away and dozens of shiny wristbands went running amok towards what looked like a huge tent. Again, I chose to walk instead, and was happy to find out that a spot was saved for me somewhere at the front.</p> <p>Weather just became worse on everyone. As I arrived at the stage, I asked people if they wanted any water. The conclusion was to simply bring as much water as I possibly could. Sure, no problem: went outside that tent, exchanged some money for festival monetary equivalent notes, and use those notes to buy bottles of water. Surprisingly cheap—€1 each—but of course, they need to take the cap off.</p> <p>Took eight bottles, placed them on a cardboard tray, and headed back to the tent. People set their eyes on the cold, cold water bottles as if we were cast away on a remote island with no running water anywhere. Some people thought that I was working for the venue, and asked me for a bottle—alas, these were all accounted for. Dropped those eight bottles and went back for another round.</p> <p>This time, I decided to be enterprising: 10 bottles. Sure, why not, pile them up. Got those bottles, barely maintaining my balance (reminder: they took off the caps) and started marching back towards the stage.</p> <p>Suddenly, I heard noise. You know those animated movies where they have scenes taking place in a jungle, and then, at some point, you see the entire jungle population running by insanely, as if there was a big forest fire behind them? you know that rumbling sound you hear in those scenes? you do? good, because that what it sounded like. As I approached the tent—less than 30 meters for me to go—the venue’s gates opened to the general public and hundreds of people ran towards the stage; and there stands your truly, with an injured wrist, holding a cardboard tray carrying ten <em>open</em> bottles of water.</p> <p>Trying to protect the transparent liquid gold I was carrying, I lost my balance and a couple of bottles dropped (still inside the cardboard container) and started to spill. Treaded carefully towards the front, asking people to move away so I can get to my destination. I was very proud to find out that I made it to the finish line with eight intact bottles, and only two bottles half full.</p> <p>An ad‐hoc repository of cold, chilled water was organized along the fence separating the audience from the stage. I drank two full bottles without even noticing, and was very happy about not being thirsty again…</p> <p>… But I wasn’t thinking of the consequences. Twenty minutes before the concert, I was dying for a toilet break. Around me there were approximately two million enthusiastic French people who, apparently, never before heard the term “personal space” (or heard about it and decided that it’s not a useful concept to pay attention to). I had to choose between staying in my place and suffering through the entire concert, or go ahead and answer Mother Nature’s call and risk not being able to get back to my spot.</p> <p>My bladder won. Bid everyone goodbye in advance—as I knew that there wasn’t much chance we’ll be watching the concert together—and went to do what had to be done. Coming back, the pre‐concert playlist was already played on the speakers; there was really no chance for me to get back to where I was, and I wasn’t in the mood for starting to beg for people’s acceptance of my situation. When the band took the stage, it was already too late.</p> <p>Still, I got a nice experience out of it. I ended up watching the concert on one of the big screens located in the festival’s area. Also, the venue offered many interesting dining options of which I was happy to take advantage.</p> <p>People seemed to be as condensed as sardines inside that tent. There wasn’t enough room for everyone; many were standing outside the tent, trying to catch a glimpse of the stage.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvEPyj2a6sncxibwm15SZBeVUiVSJLodNtWoOnplvN78YL4JsrHKNFRS1SBwNovz9k7zORN2XnUvfYmIS4RTF2wj9n-bu4YE5kcndbn1zgTEx-v4b1BxTCgFYxHmxaZAGrKp_XHIwHUjdA/s1600-h/P1060102.jpg"><img title="P1060102" style="display: inline" alt="P1060102" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk3rPHdMKgXeNMoI2Rdp6DEA9kFTaEBEhC1URpEHFtczVZfzouKNiVOKGK5MpOx-F8NaAxXBuw2-oSYJtCGiCGnQPMYL6oj1UNMTfb-4F6oWirdVOD8wmoxKhlhgnwu6n7rVrPdzOxWF7q/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic2yqFfxUQEo4Isk2-VO3KiTJtdiwSBJDlfwvB5cF6LcRG4oybpjr-lWEJwa78_Wol_IE8tLTfshI-XV3GnRVOh3S1Q5RuNdOsXD7iGEy0Y5K7bpU2I3DRNV5yIBvDAZMwDxUeB0yVu4j8/s1600-h/P1060103.jpg"><img title="P1060103" style="display: inline" alt="P1060103" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi33llA596LoG2_epqKZSbe3FnKulVjlL7ps6HcvflmDWpyx687KiUtoV_lM8Y1xar6sUoZ6rsB3yznwUFwGDGL4ocrbJycuH05evDa8ReKJTXppXpLP2R8LONC3fm0LooTRhgheQJf_vlu/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I was perfectly fine with enjoying the concert in a different way.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_wfGaNgOT4g5OOpom7881PxK5m53ZOcBmI5Gn_ZcAi84xjF6_HhA5DZ9n205OBf_W4VztVsK1J60jLJrnW8uYIPcxbrTEarHsaKZ-nmvVACB3837bktj01SrPKo0EZtwNMWeGHdyxzo9B/s1600-h/P1060104.jpg"><img title="P1060104" style="display: inline" alt="P1060104" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo09c98FLwIhWiNO_awIV_1qVOdatYvde_8KuDR_DqgObqlfZ5EbT78XmbkEdYS2tCDeDl_-4qPtfHBnP-OAUkTBWzZNWVF27vcSaJQMATlYOisKzp5N2w1SF7r0BJnKgfp1pSGbkLe4Ar/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Walking to get some food, I ran into Bap Kennedy. Bap and another guitar player, Gordon McAllister, were the opening act for the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/the-200th-stuttgart-germany-to-nimes.html">concert in Nîmes</a>, as well as for tonight’s.</p> <p>As you may remember from my post about the Nîmes concert, I was wondering, back then, what guitar Gordon McAllister was playing; I was sure it was a Taylor, but didn’t know the exact model: must have been one of the high‐end ones. So, after introducing myself to Bap—nice fellow—I asked him for Gordon’s guitar’s details. He said he didn’t know, and suggested that I look for Gordon who was supposedly nearby, inside one of the small tents surrounding the venue.</p> <p>Took a while to track him, but eventually I did. Turned out that I was right: the guitar indeed belonged to the x14CE series, and as I had imagined, it was the 914CE. This guitar is as high‐end as Taylor’s x14 series goes; you can’t go wrong on that one. I considered buying one myself back in the days, but couldn’t afford it so I settled for a lesser model instead (which, still, emits beautiful sound). Gordon and I ended up chatting for about 20 minutes or so, about all sorts of things. Very nice fellow; was happy to have run into him.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO9j2w6ILUQFJEms56gB3gjeUMGX2zH-LgcyIWexP45FAaNbXdO9qACzUI3W92gs08GLhmHH1kHyOevjUB1DEfgaU3auoGLyelMoFB3afnZbjm-jxtdhEsxyiGUP3Ovt5bLitYAeWcBB_n/s1600-h/P1060107.jpg"><img title="P1060107" style="display: inline" alt="P1060107" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVasooLeP06PAmASHb1cFMuO_RlKkh4w7_8WaTedH2QtiyD5TiMoI4LoWoyCd4lXOaDriMDMIrUTBEk4cC2uvkpPeA4jiwHi2kBAKVrwRAKW-vJEX3cr-Tc53Wj2o0JH2YAdu7tiZq4wFy/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2TxFdY-WAPHUoOHw95OO2uNY8P5VNW8av99hoU7BKShpjiY5j6RxAgzg_y7vyr5acjAv6p2EUd2MazCrluocsToxzvSYn6jrDrLwUIBlODAADGU4ywlIKUvSL0LVxlF3jE5S4eBdDwfrG/s1600-h/P1060108.jpg"><img title="P1060108" style="display: inline" alt="P1060108" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtH5KGronf-ekpup_IqN750Zma-coD2cqQlKIlsqM5pUvtxcL5kUOOmv6usNC4rv3F1YjPjetZlyXlY1-KpJLAN6syjXhxfpW66KsZWNQOR5xH9m04o-A61FJZhT_gKThW8rVpNTNpQ4Ci/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Went back to watch the concert, sitting on the lawn. I suppose this following picture would be best to describe the magical atmosphere outside that crowded tent:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXjjTfHWVbGxcILbGdlOAbUVQgW90tfO01blgaPXxjG5zUEQJBXB578RdGQIBdZmpIVywOhrRiWkk1RBEe1lMHCbYxr3Dp75h9nZ2-bHWVhl75sl30XHdx_eP8TqlrLHZ5lfSGMWZH4-iU/s1600-h/P1060110%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1060110" style="display: inline" alt="P1060110" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFK4DNUkfaTAC5tR1dfZLmU2h43siw_Kw-JpobDBaQIj_Xv3xYuHduUKIkQSsg8V1SYxYI7UZ61FN6g4efeQ1epagDIwH6lB8CuotmalZI3DVD8YCg0aH4JFunDMLUKDB7pLMNxZwbMOEc/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>Concert ended, bid everyone I knew goodbye and headed back to the hotel. After a couple of easy travel days, the next morning was going to be an early one.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Carcassonne. Took a while to complete this post as I wasn’t in the best of moods over the last few days. Let’s all hope for better times. Will get some rest now and head for tonight’s concert in Carcassonne’s breathtaking medieval city.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-89179428611792967332013-07-19T08:49:00.001-07:002013-09-10T08:35:09.561-07:00Valletta, Malta to Pisa and Lucca, Italy (July 18–19, 2013)<p>Thursday, July 18: woke up late. Very late. The day’s itinerary was simple: at around 2:20pm, take a bus to Malta’s airport; an hour and a half flight to Pisa, departing shortly after 5:00pm; get an airport pick‐up by the hotel’s shuttle. It’s a day off, and the next day’s concert was to take place in Lucca, which is half an hour train ride from Pisa. I’ve never been to Pisa before, so spending the night in Pisa before heading to Lucca seemed to be a good idea.</p> <p>Woke up fresh. The room’s air conditioner did a great job cooling the room throughout the night, providing for an excellent night sleep. I was ready for the day, eager to spend my last few hours in Malta doing exactly what I like most: be stationary most of the time and write.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I felt no passion whatsoever to see what Malta has to offer. I already got the idea: beige buildings, more beige buildings and, to top it all, even more beige buildings. Call me when the start growing some trees here: I want out and I’m unlikely to ever come back. This place must be nature freaks’ hell.</p> </div> <p>The hotel I stayed in offered breakfast—a small selection of items from the restaurant on top of which the hotel rooms were. Very restrictive menu. Opted for an omelette inside something called “Maltese bread”. I didn’t know what “Maltese bread”—I assumed they were talking about a bread coloured beige, as everything in this island seems to be in beige—but I was willing to give it a shot. Delicious. Apparently there’s a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maltese_bread">Wikipedia entry for it</a>, too.</p> <p>Back to the room to do some writing until 11:00am; time to check out. Left the luggage at the hotel—they ran out of space in the luggage room (which also functions as a general storage room for the restaurant. Repulsive) so luggage had to be stored outside that room, by the wall in the restaurant itself. Now how about that for feeling confident that you’ll meet your luggage three hours later?</p> <p>Took my small backpack containing my ridiculously heavy laptop (I should have bought an ultra‐book before doing this tour, it’d save a lot of headache and a lot of sweat). Jeroen decided to go explore the city, I decided to do some maintenance.</p> <p>First task: find a pharmacy. I ran out of gauze pads, and decided that I’d be better off with a gauze roll instead. Makes much more sense for my situation. There are many pharmacies in Valletta’s city center. The first one I picked didn’t have what I was looking for, the second one did. Good. Now, I asked them whether they have a sink or something so I can wash my hand, apply some gel and wrap my wrist with one of the newly purchased pad. The attendant there didn’t know what I meant, so I had to rephrase. The mistake I did was mention the word “toilet”: as soon as that word was heard, the attendant went into complete defensive mode and nodded for a strong “no”. I guess that this place is so touristic that even pharmacies tend to get their toilets abused by careless travellers.</p> <p>Whatever. I was planning on going to a cafe to do some writing anyway. Found a cafe nearby the hotel, and asked to go wash my hands before I sit down. Sure, go ahead. Now, that cafe had its toilets located in the basement. To get there, one needs to go down a very narrow spiral staircase, ducking the entire time. Every extra step you take down, temperature raises by 500℃, and humidity gets much, much worse. By the time I arrived to the basement level, I was already sweating like an exceptionally out‐of‐shape pig. Entered those toilets, total area of about one square meter. Got whatever I needed out of my backpack, applied the gel, then the gauze roll… now how do you cut it?</p> <p>Now, you see, I’m not experienced in this kind of things. I suppose I should have known that gauze pads are designed to withstand exceptional pressure. Whatever I did, I just couldn’t cut the damned thing. Meanwhile, the energy I exerted caused me to sweat even worse.</p> <p>BLOODY HELL. Held the remainder of the roll in my hand and sprang out of that toilet to breathe some fresh air outside. Before sitting down for coffee, I asked for a knife.</p> <p>The waiter looked at me in a look that is specifically reserved to waiters that just encountered a diner asking for a sharp knife before even ordering anything. That was when I realized I should demonstrate <em>why</em> I need a knife. All sorted out then.</p> <p>Sat down for some iced coffee (took me a full minute to explain what I wanted. These guys only know how to make iced coffee with ice cream and whipped cream on it. For some reason he couldn’t fathom a simple request to leave the last two out) and started to do some writing, all the while trying to reduce my core temperature.</p> <p>At around 1:30pm, I decided to stop writing and go for a quick walk around: if I’m going to see so much beige, why should I be the only one to suffer?</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeMd1XC0231LS_Oc2bVrOgecDH5Uj26oFKBZSnSt3oLEudZYM_e4Ct8Fj6kJ8nsLSEHGp1nhjxcH1VVsIRm7MLnTTVxJT5Wimyrd38cO_RQNgVd9DJVDfno6JVSV0LI5yXoL85RsNm_Oq3/s1600-h/P1060021.jpg"><img title="P1060021" style="display: inline" alt="P1060021" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXGtZ8KaK4nF_EYBktk_Yag2z509vxjTG7t_TTu-CPP14mTblZ_ie5lgwAHN20DLUizrZJcJBB3wOgds4XOmVh-KYaM2TcX-Swg4FcCcxGcPMPul5wMqtA5qbdet65Yvj-SGkmV75OITzS/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnf1KHiW8Ixc6HGeQewEZaWx3XZmIkRiL9UjlPl1NaK0oFMV6DRzHqwcQwR6-Oj-Yb0h9XizyAEWDJmgeVFNMYW8wg6063xXjfikTwN-AyFWdeFO5QIAs9PuFvqPmXCDi2GR6xYoYwBEX6/s1600-h/P1060022.jpg"><img title="P1060022" style="display: inline" alt="P1060022" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih6LQsv3qKDKVuDBux3YMsS19XR5QMWqNhG1omHeOY5WHznK3L37qcgpNgi7jyo1_bbBzW5RN5Mc7gV5Up4Pd5FzJ7HSVUE8bRgUBmcu0KGX6uukHJe0h4mjR2IRGI_BtpV_kqn-THAap_/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJLC9Fzqekf7k3M0LN5t8TAvJ9-bzn4xRc9QSvqpSIDjlOyPjLaQQJURGHjPoRiEpgswdzp-TITzZKVHsahjo3o-boZthS5qQMj-7bhVVqTKoMPJMQoMQjo2LfCseMFQoXeQt1SJQDb2ah/s1600-h/P1060023.jpg"><img title="P1060023" style="display: inline" alt="P1060023" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZTKLUIHDrr0Bqsk4rRXSDLki8AAFQudEqrXa5r4tDP0wC5acBloLbX6SOePufXb3sL53QcAG11z7p37HAPKzjYdZD4atRuw2F7FGmcK0q5T_GAlEGbeFb7kMmHb9m78bbOdpAFLWsvNwU/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCXbP_s_t8J4GD5mU9DWxDKLtzjC_ZSXnldqp6KnzTe1dQG0fWqAewstbN7OGWd3_30Qnb99QIZ5qsqzzoq6JKJhvoN55ukg0NznPpSZL0Xrz8WYEi-y7qcpZ8UOy05aaw0Z9DY6vws_a/s1600-h/P1060024.jpg"><img title="P1060024" style="display: inline" alt="P1060024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EfrkM8hkl6LhCxPf34zSyA2qzXAu_oF7djEHR6UcrbtRD6H3VtRehiih9BCH8lQKzDlzLC1BKfsqgxRIrrUmNXo74CXUiiIqXQquEcdmz7dNlCr_J_N64Tcig8PtaZG6IeAJW6Kp3qZ1/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt24-gReNHrhIk0LAjOwuks1XC4zXMjBREyGU4OtH5Z2xkX8YVX6IkHK6SW9G7DxibsmJGjVccffIE26GK25x-wtUIqjzDE82J4UIyDtVd6aPRYsHkgadywreftdbDGNsusrvRitZrV7KO/s1600-h/P1060025.jpg"><img title="P1060025" style="display: inline" alt="P1060025" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik59h-6VO37ma43y2TQnqWhF5pBErp-c0vizAbC5HbTdO8lcR4k9WJUHJsF7TZkhTU0WAJoeoPstBJoVy3gUaCG73Nljubi9dfuzyUA7x08T98qN36n8OME4vmItoQpQtLj7OQjfB8uTYf/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglPYPvGlnphkkJuYU_b29F9XWiGXta5AqUe19czV1qyvVB0z8v0NaX1V9u1QLTNczW2mNuqrHyO5u8qLwkBBzHNgrjyi7bMLL1Xhqht2WN62quCDjp8yTOREGlC4mgzWrVraQdLd-ntQsm/s1600-h/P1060026.jpg"><img title="P1060026" style="display: inline" alt="P1060026" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGTMN2ARARgXIhZYA8SuRiKMM3NLd4-1b14XimpzsFY5IljzQfRJgsjOHeGqa9gW_WKFeoQ6ccpyC7lKbCv-Y9zcRPFfF5BBR3D_-zleo-sMzO9oYvnGYRCDJrTmliEI83DERiVfUMN8F8/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGG0Nw8vCXAcicl1sciEv65ghHblPwNUPTiPzs8k_Nf8D0I6K_gc9rA-1bO1DReWlyF-jeS0c5a_Q3sbdLxhG4_Uo_uVm-5OsvAKYPpoN7zXb7LInWDZuHvA3Trq2HDtI5k4adw7Z9Ibl/s1600-h/P1060027.jpg"><img title="P1060027" style="display: inline" alt="P1060027" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCtx4l-zSLBWjLIPwOsctQ6PpdMz7LrHOkQNPzXQTrYlha8Thgqt9aMFQbG66-OaapUTILnbc3oR9h0nU3cvglcgI8Q11_F-AHMJ47JsHJ8YIVZm5kxfgW31mP2s0FXQX2lG7-yp_z0Dzb/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkyy4ZLO8NeDwaXA-MSDJq1tp1qIMVQ_obvaCCchJ8POHVP7EovW__67Xune6pP5sNGKxp18XtJqF2k5utYL7VNyMPuAgrgsLG5EIGOoKJlIPgdhfE-5fM0bDJjmjXSh8MAjzIjOgdwN4B/s1600-h/P1060028.jpg"><img title="P1060028" style="display: inline" alt="P1060028" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQwl_buZ0DNUeZq-QFsPbqPCzQtabUXFKROj6i3PmmiK1eqrkxTs3ch6TZ3Cdw26HHegVWdUTZntW5vdiNe36vDheQveOz0WBkMfSmYyA8E1rAjITJ4xjT-SpnyWnxZJ-O7Ek627-m5Dla/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Approaching the north end of Valletta, the Mediterranean Sea is right there, serving as a perfect blue background for… that’s right. More beige.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcOmH-X3b3_bvG1VXxgqWWVoL6Kfv2SmbZ4SRtbCn9rCzxJ5JPG92vp8T4RxGwvebF4gazwgtOBrwWvJOuPg9ZcES-q3uclvhg2IE85PbjXCAQ0a8pKGxRdX3kK4P64RL0r1Sb4b7jxirI/s1600-h/P1060029.jpg"><img title="P1060029" style="display: inline" alt="P1060029" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAm8mg33QaMeODYQsrPGILftLm6VstJI_dYXprqHX82HA17m9pzy4i_oEU2HXqpp3EPXHiRZGxamZwCP-trrloRx3zMk0-jH7M1lkV4z98UR5eMmn4q2-KRcRMeN7laEZY37Jlusfi9dV3/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6cRmGIL0SZlX-6_9mHykrteJc0eLTSiu7VLc23QExlHut95EHAxjTQrhrB1Uo_xPuCLGAYeH9WlD3d6VUIRps6-qO2zhdUdeDuDX0U2q1r7Sg898nyngnSAa9lyFpR4mkuVLVoW83SAEe/s1600-h/P1060030.jpg"><img title="P1060030" style="display: inline" alt="P1060030" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZeDIg0RJabKHjwJk9afqQ6Nhspd56t0nw64DVAwTem2OCUOT3d3C4WatWcasNlCwJivCeBr6VLTDWu_uE6ZHHL2LbA1N9TiIBJLBSwOiA8o1Khn-rCIRr9Cz3lyyXEZlG9OA1J0kvQA0h/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPn8RT5YbNG_Pf7L_743wXdiuj1jv9FxLdbDggA6ql_VGKa5HUPa_GhpJg7FGSXC-EAAgwNVPw6em2-poDZiorhtKZxvT-gpGVcVa9JYvm9R-b5BpOslU8OYQ0DSrWST5hIARLGBwbkNDe/s1600-h/PANO_20130718_133910%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130718_133910" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130718_133910" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXNRaOxxJDyxY3jdLntHLaTiWgIbw_Epe6n8d4UMMcONL55jzWBgrOAgetSoRHKFT2loV7WmQWygrI4u6gMZStllze1RhytWzR6MytML3OhOXyf9NBEdhrvq60Qz_uPX5eOOvwPmdVeOah/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="279" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMuazGJ8l5wrKJilm1YQuVu3HN6ODcvjCac5BD8UUjNrXJ6TOH2o90PcbsAx0P_bj4JwCipjbJJcna1gqpSvPiRR_Nj9UJsWfCLI9qSj8A3-tq2hEa1e_J7XegaO3l29Cv1-I7OR6EHGYe/s1600-h/P1060031.jpg"><img title="P1060031" style="display: inline" alt="P1060031" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS-4Glroz8nhvED-QPVY-bGRpYjGymmy_xPaiPKu7Aw0W_-Q68vBmP-bTBFguJTrWvcah7edl4bmYX5yd-4O8LjigfjDlrD9PCH50xSp4bmPM5RuqwBzIJRJidrB7loLpxEylhkuJYC7CM/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQV40_u8lQXGME1tIbUU5AAJlTnx2dZejoGy2ghAaDXzjNp6Dckg-c0OGj7AuunthcQyjz9iQRRUKANkqiqaxH60z0mfmbnksCpm22wOlb8EjbU_QCW_AySUupCx1p698JzP7B3B4irJ4/s1600-h/P1060032.jpg"><img title="P1060032" style="display: inline" alt="P1060032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFV2pvroyn5yADmicXqOSR0BC6Uv2BFw53XSgXBR4XZpXDd3cjDW9OVS-E62UYJpHg0idtawJxoRvZOTszuutB8a8mTK81x2Ip32L7N-XL-ulQzxuR75Y66d_pgtAOybU29S1v6Xhj-KVm/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITbGFiEYtcfUky3stVx6j1HcAnqHdL7Pk__EjI9OoSGU-8wWSiSLitUmSooyeOemREBKVo87-hVM7NpGPT4dR3rq5d4vziWRhOrNnPsSYAoef-2SUWe4vmjchjYlLgrP2p7DzeTTw4b1A/s1600-h/P1060033.jpg"><img title="P1060033" style="display: inline" alt="P1060033" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pQzJM2ZTPjE49X_h273DqU8ceqQ0CCr3_KOIZWqTWZ2U4p8UArYdCRN-PocMPECg7XNoF7809SNy_WnvYZZ69t6p92_oGdDK9JbjyskLFgdmYbB-UFmAF07QmdiygfLtcJtE64ynP4RJ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6jytzXsZr1YomBLxmWimff9wZtP2-Fdqp5FnCMU7rJwtDgL122ga6g5PFs7LbJWNImxIfq1r3Q33K0iEVVt_denCfpJnyLd7NCG3DCs17jvkgtFBw5uk67AxttKJwca6HvJxQ_zQCdhg/s1600-h/P1060034.jpg"><img title="P1060034" style="display: inline" alt="P1060034" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVmR-PLuAMU3knuo33rIwlr5oSCTjncSD3EW9sm19YXgHoaEdKKK_-44mUbQPTGJThnTBxSoejJ4RV1kCQhNzj2m3EwjHz98XqtiPozlMdIhLcN6ZmxtSqWzVXXSF_rpLvLRH1771vkAsa/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9KNpIrcggLqm_HFkkt84NHKtOE5AALe_CR9P-mU4Rzw4Xw59SHQuKTu4NfNN2goPeAOhoZjcWNFYk4z7V8JeRZh2SkT8T7XRUCRcy3bA_xUQDJhvXS-X2aYWxUtqaPHzlc-86HVO6wdF0/s1600-h/PANO_20130718_134913%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130718_134913" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130718_134913" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyn3dFkrqnRdgNIYKQZRH_s6PNJZxsjVfDdnyL5TuG6BrbrUsBpb7p7HfxuFWnvlKwkZXFLpr4ORqmLC8fSxWiqKkHxoWzan_dbP006QNFM4EsyklYXw7lahgccJUpB_hc4Iyir27sFxY/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="279" /></a></p> <p>Finally, some green…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86d2JyjFna8JEdqM44I18TDPThoaAW-khQVMcS1t3G9BJFJ1YF56xuZJcuMHTZHuKi348vZh7lUQccykZ9y556au2O4Z-2DGop52P1PSfH51TbIoeYTLi83dLnT-XVlLtTL1A8X8XGsx3/s1600-h/P1060035.jpg"><img title="P1060035" style="display: inline" alt="P1060035" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj25BMVAage3SxQuScQRyrjgnwpnE6vI3ueGImFFPfMfz_77Y8-nT4TSmQCLufRqbd28S2N5VoAGBnDqqNVwairh3haQ80XTWm0mkHlZ06LYy85TG-dExSkpUqA538V0yxdr4gfIxwPcPXS/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… and back to beige.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwfK1SzTSYVttMYpNz-t18oyU6fB7pnQoTO-M2BCViquF3Dsv97tjRuYAi0QQ2mubHTt03pnbe9GtjXkT9ZLp0hJLaypvmL9kOrr3s-KlZxzZ0NQGpx2rRZdC2rI_9LcjpdZ_dtFv5uQtP/s1600-h/P1060036.jpg"><img title="P1060036" style="display: inline" alt="P1060036" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYUZSGDpDqEwj2hjZHC0U8RThD0207v2LviYNAdPCmPr_7p6W30gRUOfsWePrdg6e3AUegAOyFqVsfWBRAampkbxAxcTPUFIZNsZagCYCQ5qd6kIaXnmlEgzzJHtf5xvYQJJ6qqu51pcaM/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHLSBqAqB3qyMe-jVNOI70-NEqZHaRDPhP8eIpGyzbPpIuQ48BCCkh9TzhMAhYo6Q5t1KEz2DW5cLYMVOfnDjx3iENH_LnLsZWFt2sikN4PmUYXAA_hwceIS_niJ7GgMUZj-ABUS4sTrE6/s1600-h/P1060037.jpg"><img title="P1060037" style="display: inline" alt="P1060037" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnxnCO1dr1H41JFgbv7aL1CutkhOeXRS8iMbLe-WwUNarnA2u67R3VIyl_l0REimrwwm4KLNAVGb_3SbpWCbmKv3RPI8OwhR-UCDFwUVl7j1HcbJtz-MCG0gQveH8Pxqv1OdAYpl9PNwTb/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Dripping sweat, I made it back to the hotel at 2:00pm, to meet the Dutchman, grab the luggage and head to the bus station, to get to the airport. I was tired and frustrated from the heat, to the point that I started losing focus. Grabbed a sandwich from the hotel’s restaurant—which, of course, had to be cooked as it was only half‐cooked; great, that’s what I need: <em>more heat</em>—and headed to the bus station.</p> <p>Boarded the bus and started consuming the sandwich. As soon as I was done, the bus started to move. At least in that part of Malta, roads aren’t in very good shape, and traffic is busy, resulting in the bus driver having to brake a lot. Now, you know the feeling you get when you ride a bus right after eating, and the ride is spotty? nausea. And the heat… blimey, the heat.</p> <p>Finally, arrived to Malta’s international airport. Left the bus and entered the air‐conditioned space.</p> <p>Step 1—reaching the airport—done.</p> <p>Now came step 2, which I wasn’t very much looking forward to: dealing with an airline that is considered by many to be the worst in Europe.</p> <hr /> <p><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ryanair">Ryanair</a> is a low‐cost airline based in Ireland. The airline is named after one of its founders, an Irish businessman named Tony Ryan. It’s been in business since 1985, experienced rapid growth, went public in 1997 and used the money raised (by taking the company public) to expand its services across Europe.</p> <p>The company was designed to be a low‐cost, no‐frills airline. As such, over the years, it has gained a rather questionable reputation among customers. The lengths that Ryanair go to in order to squeeze extra money from travellers are truly astonishing.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Examples are aplenty: you must show up in the airport with your boarding pass (by checking in online), otherwise you pay a fee—if I recall right, it’s about €70. No free baggage: must pay for each piece, online of course (otherwise you pay extra fee, about €100). The very act of checking in online costs money (about €6 per passenger). Basically, there is no way to check‐in without paying <em>some</em> fee.</p> <p>Even water on board costs money. </p> <p>This airline is the closest an airline can get to a “flying bus”. Their aircrafts’ seats don’t recline, and don’t have those pockets behind them—all to cut costs. What else do they do to cut costs? at some point, the company proposed <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/comment/5431689/Ryanairs-lose-loos-strategy-typifies-its-win-win-focus-on-low-fares.html">removing two toilets in each aircraft</a> in order to add more seats; asked for permission to redesign its aircrafts so <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/travelnews/5753477/Ryanair-to-make-passengers-stand.html">passengers can fly while standing up</a>; suggested charging money to use the toilets while on board; suggested charging <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/travelnews/5199997/Ryanair-considers-fat-tax-for-obese-air-passengers.html">extra fees from obese people</a>; and even suggested that passengers should <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/travelnews/5430226/Passengers-may-have-to-load-their-own-bags-onto-Ryanair-flights.html">carry their own checked‐in luggage onto the airplane</a>.</p> </div> <p>Customer service‐wise, this airline is known to be as terrible as an airline cat get.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>How terrible?</p> <p>in 2002, they refused to provide wheelchairs to disabled passengers. Once that got to the courts, the courts decided that the responsibility for wheelchairs should be joint between the airlines and the airports. The result? all fares went up by €0.50.</p> <p>In 2012, they disallowed a 69 years old lady, suffering from colostomy, to bring her medical kit on board, even though she was carrying a document from her doctor explaining her condition. The airline’s staff forced the lady to lift her shirt up, in front of all other passengers, to prove that she had a colostomy bag.</p> </div> <p>What else? false or misleading advertising; allegations for carrying less than the minimum amount of fuel on the aircraft in order to cut costs; and the list goes on and on.</p> <p>I was therefore partly curious and partly horrified. As this tour is nearing its end, my energy level is low and I have less patience towards idiots than I have ever had before. I dislike rude people with passion, and I started envisioning how this airline’s employees are going to make me finally lose my mind.</p> <p>Fortunately, we were prepared. All documents printed beforehand, leaving nothing to chance. Checked in, then off to the security gates. Malta’s airport is small, and security clearance there can get very hectic: it was very crowded, but things went quick. Security cleared; no gate assignment yet, so it was time to sit down and unwind in a cafe somewhere.</p> <p>It was comforting to realize that a large part of the band’s crew was also taking this flight. I could recognize most faces, and surprisingly, my face was recognized as well. It was comforting because of two reasons: for once, it always feels better to be in the vicinity of people who are familiar to you, even if you never actually talked to them; and for twice, well, without this crew, there <em>is</em> no concert: if the flight is cancelled or diverted or whatever, my best bet would be to simply head where these guys are going as they know best how to get to the next concert—they <em>must</em> be there.</p> <p>Sat down in the cafe, gazing at nothing. Took my noise cancelling headphones out, put them on and activated them. I felt increasingly numb towards anything and anyone around me: my eyes were unfocused. Thought about everything and nothing at once. My brain was a mush. I’m pretty sure that, at some point, I was on the verge of collapsing: I didn’t eat well, I wasn’t rested, and the heat experienced earlier left me very frustrated.</p> <p>It <em>must</em> have been the heat. I really, <em>really</em> can’t function well in insanely hot places.</p> <p>Finally, gates for the flight were announced: “gate 8–10”. Sorry, what’s that? which gate? 8? 9? 10? all of the above?</p> <p>Walked towards gates 8, 9 & 10. Only gate 8 was open, and there was already a line‐up to enter the gate’s area. Why line‐up? because your boarding pass needs to be checked <em>before</em> you enter the gate area, and passengers with carry‐on luggage must prove that their carry‐on luggage fits into a fixture made of metal poles, denoting the maximum size for a carry‐on luggage.</p> <p>That took forever. Finally at the gate, now waiting for the bus. One bus arrived, all passengers started walking towards gate 8’s exit. The bus left, people continued to stand. And stand. And stand. 20 minutes, standing like idiots. Finally, another bus came, but stopped next to gate 10’s exit. Announcement over the speakers: the bus will now collect everyone from gate 10, not 8. That caused an uproar: unless you pay for priority boarding, there are no assigned seats. People who want to ensure being seated together must board the aircraft quickly in order to ensure getting two (or more) adjacent seats. I didn’t care at all about all of this, but others did.</p> <p>Loaded onto a bus… here’s the airplane. Got an aisle seat, so did the Dutchman. People kept boarding the aircraft, getting very frustrated because they couldn’t sit next to whoever they wanted to sit.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I really don’t understand the big deal about it. For heaven’s sake, it’s a short flight—a little more than an hour; is it really <em>that</em> important to you to sit next to someone you know, that you will start asking people to move to other seats to accommodate your wish?</p> <p>My hypothesis is that there is a strong correlation between one’s eagerness to sit next to someone they know, and their inability to keep their mouth shut for periods that span more than a few minutes.</p> <p>(The issue is not about why people <em>prefer</em> to sit next to someone they know; that is obvious. The issue is about being so enthusiastic about it, and being so frustrated when they can’t get what they want.)</p> </div> <p>On‐board baggage mayhem, too. Suitcases were flying in the air, being shoved into, and pulled out of, overhead bins. I practiced being numb, and I think I made good progress.</p> <p>Flight took off a bit late, but arrived on time. Nightmare is over; welcome to Pisa.</p> <hr /> <p>I have never been to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pisa">Pisa</a> before in my life. Also, other than the fact that this city features a leaning tower, prompting hundreds of thousands of people every year to pose to the camera as if they’re pushing or supporting the tower.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>It was funny when it was done once, a long time ago, by someone who was obviously much more original than you are. Let’s move on, shall we.</p> </div> <p>Baggage collected, and headed to the arrivals hall. Arrangements were made with the B&B that was booked for the night, for an airport pick‐up. Exited through the arrivals hall’s door and looked for someone holding a sign with my name.</p> <p>Found him: a simple looking guy, wearing shorts and a T‐shirt, as well as a partly shy, partly suspicious expression. Now out to the car. Walking through the parking lot, I was expecting to find some sort of a shuttle or a minivan, branded with the B&B’s name; instead, I was surprised when the driver stopped by a small black jeep.</p> <p>…</p> <p>OK, interesting. We started driving towards Pisa’s city center, chatting with the driver who was showing a great deal of interest in his passengers. Before I knew it, though, the ride was over: Pisa’s airport is unique for being extremely close to the city center.</p> <p>It didn’t look like a street that I’d want to spend too many nights in: more like a rough area of town. Oh well, I wasn’t intending to do much in here anyway. Luggage collected from the car and the driver started walking towards a nearby building. At the building’s entrance, there stood a guy repeatedly pushing an intercom button.</p> <p>The driver approached.</p> <p>– “Can I help you?”</p> <p>The guy turned to the driver and a dialogue started. It was a confused dialog, during which each side was trying to figure out what the other side wants—partly in English, and partly in Italian.</p> <p>Then, all became clear. The driver wasn’t just a driver: it was the owner of the B&B. The intercom button that the other guy was pushing was the button to ring the B&B’s owner’s office. The B&B owner asked the new client to wait until he finishes checking us in.</p> <p>Now: I wrote before, on a few occasions, about how I keep getting surprised with new things almost on a daily basis, even though I’ve been travelling a lot recently. How long, would you say, a check‐in process (to a hotel or a B&B) takes, assuming that the individual checking you in has 100% of their attention dedicated to you?</p> <p>1 minute? 2 minutes?</p> <p>Well, some sophisticated and luxurious 5 stars hotels may take 4–5 minutes: they have to pretend to be working hard for you, to justify their ridiculous nightly rates.</p> <p>So this one took 45 minutes, and to your immense surprise, you won’t hear me complaining about it much because it was a very interesting experience. The B&B owner, Michele, is really just a simple nice guy, very talkative but very knowledgeable about many things. His passion is photography—those 45 minutes included a demonstration of some of his work—and, by the way he talked about Italy in general and Pisa in particular, you could easily tell that he loves his country.</p> <p>Asked for a restaurant recommendation, and a reservation was made in a Tuscan restaurant in the city center. With that, came a recommendation for gelateria which is considered (according to the B&B owner) to be one of the top 5 gelaterias in Italy.</p> <p>Occupancy wasn’t full, so we were upgraded to a mini‐suite with two bedrooms. Quickly arranged everything and headed out for dinner.</p> <p>Pisa’s central railway station, conveniently located by the B&B, also marks the south end of Pisa’s city center. From there, it’s a short walk north to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arno">River Arno</a> that flows through the city, offering excellent city scenery.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLWFCfsqiNwA0Rjjshz4aHyBifPEPnVDonmWW7mkeaOo5dhmMkeHv2Xi_CKhIKH-dQ_4wWfNP0ilZsoszFBup34f2R-0XYq-vzaXBPPvpur066ajxlaqvXGH46-FNdVhHkbqwHLfyiY0qJ/s1600-h/PANO_20130718_201211%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130718_201211" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130718_201211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBizfxJg3GFhMrZi9N76DZ-PswMskujtysqO2V2iB0Aa0857SEBj6jJPq5AQbmo8SZ5TrrLRrrseILgGRixA-G5A9LMiddbX366oe6hb_FEO1adfLpiISciWcmULyEEd6FTZxHDwsAujY/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="269" /></a></p> <p>The restaurant, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187899-d3179206-Reviews-Antica_trattoria_il_campano-Pisa_Province_of_Pisa_Tuscany.html">Antica Trattoria il Campano</a>—a name by which name the B&B’s owner would be willing to swear—provided good food indeed but nothing out of the ordinary except for a brilliant home‐made pasta. Let’s face it: after that glorious dinner in Sicily just a few days ago, I can’t really see how that Sicilian restaurant’s record can be met, let alone broken, by the time the tour ends. Still, a good place. Go there, just don’t order the lamb chops: hardly any meat in them.</p> <p>Backtracked a little bit to get my hands on some gelato from <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187899-d2195489-Reviews-Gelateria_De_Coltelli-Pisa_Province_of_Pisa_Tuscany.html">Gelateria De’ Coltelli</a>. Here, the B&B’s owner was right on the spot: the place claims to use only natural, organic materials. Faced with a variety of closed cans with only labels (in Italian) on them, it was very hard to pick so I just picked two in random. Great. That’s a place to savour memories of.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkQlVhKtVdGtC9Y8nnEuW5uBk7ULEn6V1UxwbHYDZudS1NlDeg4kJm3YgulJwFh_UZaj5Nqct_FtFn8zTwFFjhreF86Mt9upt6iRejqcjL0qCQMNuD4L5oGp4DNBlX3s-Hhm5t_3G0WR9/s1600-h/P1060042.jpg"><img title="P1060042" style="display: inline" alt="P1060042" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzr89H5-3-1N55J-5-HQy-V_nCAWNPe7cR5rF9Uj9ABT7cQNRhl-3mxD-XCFZoqPyJJ5bZX2dQ2jY-z2c3qdkNpy-LT4D8aC8WkTm9N39P7vgjrG-yjGCXYZciDm2HUImYCiqguPMmcZ5M/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Of course, no (first time) visit in Pisa would be complete without seeing a leaning tower of some sort. The countless pictures I had the chance to see of that tower somehow gave me the impression that we’re talking about a very tall one; looking around me from the city center, I could see no tower at all. Fired up <em>Google Maps</em>, only to find out that it’s merely five minutes walk away.</p> <p>OK… started walking through dark narrow streets, turned here, turned there… looking above me… no tower. Then, finally, it appeared as if out of nowhere.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwi1h96oWvxr8JSDwNLaHCP_rT77X0WFOJTmmZBp-fjaBEO7X-uyNUou655rYOneWb0TAtNxo4s40Mi_o4fQFjVhOvqQJTkOrF4i4Oyz99DgyBGMCF-e6RFHUdZkyMeq57trRZQmjZzJS/s1600-h/P1060043.jpg"><img title="P1060043" style="display: inline" alt="P1060043" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirIouOzw-4nxX-v_Xx0dzw_Jx2vZgsynd_vm_T7ABoJFMy57XsV8NxmvzuWac3Doz1SWNd3r7osx6ufSjRktSOiMznRjD5Gajgm3nULjCnOQheACd497jzNF3N2N64anrqLJRKEAvf9Nnn/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Appears much smaller in reality than what I had imagined. It is indeed beautiful, and brilliantly lit at night time.</p> <p>One of the things that annoys me the most in wide lens cameras is the phenomenon of lens distortion. Finally, I found a good use for this annoyance: taking one photograph showing as if the tower leans much more than it really does…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcjigH4ECDUPhexFAxiZuNWYKhTGjSYnIkfqecRDxn74VR-OibxkVM8_MERpZ6ylfQcTrX99djq2f_HexVJVmWxKJneuOAAYH-tepEePqFhbsGkHjhdblQrGk46yYcMLsymkxoH2xErPW5/s1600-h/P1060044.jpg"><img title="P1060044" style="display: inline" alt="P1060044" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUp2FVSbaxnb2fqlwXX6Ko2SnT6DaAUflwwE6P8m7iTJYVtStDvjK53gHgJQ7Mm3lGiL6p_fUmu11acpevFawdKbxkBvQBF5bIyFH9pHuTvC2tBCl1_5jIirNScujhR0BEbdQ9XNnkzNN9/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… and one showing as if it hardly leans at all.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRQVQoExRcjEhe573d7hRFfMrzfYvl5S7N-KAmA6R0bnnj_LfgV2S8abgCI0rESVPdvj38VgVK-LDsJ9wDZmd1XIn5rDqeOkPeyG54HMuWx2MG4s5wFYAUT4dCSANszZrGVisrnRmYCev/s1600-h/P1060046.jpg"><img title="P1060046" style="display: inline" alt="P1060046" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitz2H7eCHGffA9gMFhTXg3SjTc7wvpL6pwcGpsHRzhfQ-lEeR8JfiI_kCcSX8BdtkWH26flb93pTu2WHBLVgi6MpC4WiwV7M0PAegDviod0qPY7e2COCjC4fbWc4AbW6GjfVO35EBkt0EX/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Here’s one taken without any lens distortion, taken from the side to which the tower leans—giving the impression that the tower doesn’t lean at all:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUACVWQ1OK7GfZLFggkjthqRf3t09B5PoSHTigic_11A6gsMvbXm5yH5xRqmL_-QIrU6twnLlvqjV82SpGiQ48BXq4EfYQFkH5FJwZl5NyBH7m7v2x2qr9opKVgTPjAr1qoRtvGE3Li1dW/s1600-h/IMG_20130718_214041.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130718_214041" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130718_214041" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIDl1jtI1FPil8c-y3gR0xQzxIvDLp_bTd-JCGJWqc0bMP4DPf5pMCg7kRG4VDlM8dB6npAIxXh0QLPubBprBF033zR7Y12UzyZulDtE42-aovmubsxpxu-w0d2_PRJsjwF2T3kcudf3EC/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>A corresponding <a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151519982097073&set=a.10151025837677073.430430.561867072&type=1&theater&notif_t=like">Facebook post</a> evolved into a few failed guesses, plus me being scalded for not appreciating the tower for its touristic value.</p> <p>Even at night time, the place was full of tourists. The usual tourist‐oriented kitsch—all sorts of shady merchants selling the usual souvenirs, trick spiders and other toys. Headed back to the hotel, and discovered a good opportunity for a long exposure shot.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wWAc8RsSkavNE0Hj9ClgXUkN9cWageqQyfG6xBZlJHjoaKAOyvdBq56AYsciNqc8TFxgH15maSlYJiofZdIzRwY70dtUpN__TjRHN-mDgtvquH2rixsbaADWChpXPQHVMp5nlbVeRquY/s1600-h/P1060050%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1060050" style="display: inline" alt="P1060050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrdZnEglfgklQRx6EP-z-ELj8g4AoiFPeX8bC2gNjS5xAbt-6QvWC5m0sX68DtLIJA2A67PmeCL0F9PIXYIsL_5bDNBblcafR_ZtSR3URji4JJTSWkfx6COtRhqopplfzqfpzjF229FOwL/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>The next day was scheduled to involve an extremely easy ride: 27 minutes train ride to Lucca. Good night sleep, no alarm clock set.</p> <hr /> <p>July 19: somehow, woke up early but fresh. The B&B’s breakfast ends at 9:30am. That being consumed, it was decided to bid Pisa adieu and head to Lucca. Frankly, except for that tower and its beautiful surrounding buildings, I wasn’t planning on seeing much in Pisa anyway: Lucca seemed much more interesting.</p> <p>The train ride from Pisa to Lucca takes 27 minutes, offering very good scenery. Tuscany is gorgeous, as I can vividly remember from <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/day-off-in-arezzo-toscana-concert-day.html">the last time I was here</a>, 3 years ago. Green mountains, lakes, the works.</p> <p>After an excruciating 27 minutes ride, arrived to Lucca’s central railway station.</p> <p><a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-piazza-napoleone-lucca.html">I have been to Lucca before</a>, during the 2010 Get Lucky tour. Back then, I was driven around Italy by the two wonderful Italian sisters, Daria and Valeria, who helped making that Italian leg of the tour so memorable. Still, in 2010, we only visited Lucca for the concert (arrived by car) and left right after, so I didn’t get much time to look around. This time around, though, a hotel was booked in Lucca’s city center, providing plenty of time for sightseeing.</p> <p>A few minutes walk from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucca">Lucca</a>’s central railway station, there’s one of the main entrances to Lucca’s old city area. Lucca’s old city area is surrounded by its famous walls, left intact since the Renaissance era: once you pass through a nice little garden informing you that the Lucca Summer Festival is taking place…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzhqvbz0-Cai0phTQe7zHuqzDjQATEP3kTNvkVeDklZpMXHW2drGeBlSUq3ItCR8E1oPfU8QyW3TBQDQWdRY8m19er5gfJLE-kGN-lTyIoCXm9j4_7RCC-KPrzSwIT0UW3ipbh4f0wvhf/s1600-h/P1060051.jpg"><img title="P1060051" style="display: inline" alt="P1060051" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigTL-TLUOYXCaKQeBTBdcriTQSPRULRqi5YxvvUp8MXlB9W4PMc0SOO4HBcODyhobXIE-qYPrIdU8XZleF06gATjL64iMAGKaC5kFCchDV4mZTAmWZg6-hEt8CjMJmLYUB92f4lfz_lNuK/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… you enter through the ancient wall into the old city, and immediately feel history all around you. This place is very beautiful, and despite the numerous tourists around, I wouldn’t say that it looks or feels like a complete tourist trap: Lucca’s old city area definitely has character.</p> <p>It was still early in the morning (around 11:00am), but surprisingly, the hotel room in <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187898-d195715-Reviews-Hotel_La_Luna-Lucca_Province_of_Lucca_Tuscany.html">Hotel La Luna</a>, located right in the old city’s center, was ready. Went to the room, quick set up and, for a few hours, did almost nothing but writing.</p> <p>Once I was done uploading the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/taormina-italy-to-valletta-malta-july.html">previous post</a>, I decided to go outside for a walk. Lucca’s old city center is very small, and you can cover it all within a day; I decided to head north, climb on the ancient wall and just walk on it.</p> <p>Walked through the city center…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYUG1MNdX62EQYmdKX7u52QaEv0RbzYZHZz_KiCCaBZQVEq7syFrDe4j6LXodawJ2DK1iH9Yrxmj71UITsFe6jZaGoLIg6oJwyTATrGfDHrG4FsLDB4MDbUfoUED5aJowIjKILQ41oPotV/s1600-h/P1060052.jpg"><img title="P1060052" style="display: inline" alt="P1060052" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTDlkU8mALcS2UalTZn2EkuXcQQkc14rqFH37WkTdasjozvdkdeczZXsMR4ToWOEyoUBpce1-G6KwEHFuqIsdLQcDO27IoI3jljkasaMAPwQ565F6FSniVQBEr-27yTT9PLMT9wOkDsZY6/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwA8PLlJBF37LRlJZPLsN8btZqBO04IMB06KSlSIqznYBtmWR8UlxXWmXfGGfi4cyRP8jVRL3YQQ6JKhyphenhyphenWUL3mLCyQkK8LDhPtE9gvFQOJV6jW32bzVqrpMlTUpAPNbz3zaNxOTgCaosCj/s1600-h/P1060053.jpg"><img title="P1060053" style="display: inline" alt="P1060053" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOnjnFWYZf0COLTFTfZT_sAA5m5ylo-LTgqJuNcOtEcMlz3TO0CK3kUxm-yVC0_P-g8tT2jcMW1n9PlT83HcmNtbBBOPBDgvqw0JK6UElxOKYSGDb4QdNQPMvGzrD3I4PBUGUJnjOVm3nj/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… until I arrived at the wall, about five minutes later. You can climb up the thick, few meters wide wall in many locations around the perimeter, and the walk along the wall is a rewarding one: you get to see Lucca’s old city center, as well as other neighbourhoods, along with some mountains in the back and lots, <em>lots</em> of green.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQZZv5f6DoIj0XJZ6iNnVOJRjGz33vHS1lILdT_hLxLDLUaao1SyuM-jbQNQkkCCyvO-6-sBv68lvvSVZYGV-Ch0V4qGkUhMYFBaNf0_oRYO2U2jWYLqyVeQsxj9gZwFa_gVwuUtIEbnLa/s1600-h/P1060055%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1060055" style="display: inline" alt="P1060055" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOPc75Imo3FFroosTeebuPlUu3ZTowoKqdHBfDhpQDV4OFAiG8kgv28QRgeZPZIIYHnHQ8wBJ5YVkIj8jCVeDeyjIW5om02DXI6Br5fgG5S1hSKXsp6uDnNr6ZMTkt8BJn5bCIZ7ix68mz/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZMuE_cSRG-xL-0Ou4Wc5H6D8cQcuyPys5SFr4_SxltVAQGDKGovRcpDVraUeqblPe89-XZEzuRHYl0J0cdpjLj70ZFgngMT9EtntOJwh8Xpsauo-ia48fSVfrqrxtZVYcn-HCCC_vpBAz/s1600-h/PANO_20130719_163836%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130719_163836" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130719_163836" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hFlnp5dUJQEbLlL6KgaUH9p87_G-TTBnsVGDj-YM_lXdLslZFtKNes6wgpRJVp2OIc4u8IpwDQY375GyLbQvakPdZgF0lUgRoJYA9MvLMLIxGxmXahaiciEhsKJg1sWWvchNJ7PMX7aW/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="217" /></a></p> <p>For the first time in quite a while, I decided to do that walk while listening to music. Nothing Knopfler, of course: I get 2 hours of Knopfler’s music on an almost nightly basis. Bob Dylan’s <em>Tempest</em> did the trick very well. Beautiful album.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqXP9eKM2IpjeNP7aQBETqN-u3EPmmsB1lUc6U7u1fnQ2uCJ0dl4iYVlD-BNXoU_V7nQ-NScXgYaqfEOvtQft8o3qFWarJgzRBXV1vZF76D0Y2v3Iuax6OfwK84qsoZPDrDin4eTU7aEF/s1600-h/P1060058.jpg"><img title="P1060058" style="display: inline" alt="P1060058" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXYaWh3A9fdAJNnTpdlVHIf19go-h2Bgwb5UrviQjEve7I4z5oZ88w62DengMDjCtaqeV6Q5gsLATz2kw2jALXGBfrMUHAXRB5irMXnu0BH4cuLBi_Yrsfsy3nRA1Pe-FgNRkZJJ1Z1yJq/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCfs85g8vw6pRqkAbA1sArVuYbWKbAgMN1JFiSsaqrGmrDoHkcQFURh8wn49fyCmQcoVhlff8LK94N91tcLXYJ_Uonm8qf6xV-hKfD8Fqz87iAXeqBOjpkGONTHM6zW3rVShENM5VJZlgU/s1600-h/P1060059.jpg"><img title="P1060059" style="display: inline" alt="P1060059" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMYD47r8RYUQjRJSwhHQUgT5ldpBiMtoMhPeQNO3djj-P2gxNwOj8pYYIy_of2FkA_ZRKHFG5Rt3wV72aWF8gbTZfCgAx8n4SbfzFdtT07s1_DWmP2IJuanrjtLFd1g4QarLbYoeon8fr/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDNSskQvjEjhscNgnzXoGkkhM1uJdqu0CfNEKRLD-GcDtdWeRXOy5yhe11v5ptku3SdlOrIOfvO5q8dhqfNDfMCsPQgDiW-ECoIpsHuVrw6LUyc56SYnM6zaXZi2aeBnZA7IHSrGLow_ia/s1600-h/PANO_20130719_164737%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130719_164737" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130719_164737" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4js5qrZqqIgdnn7VvcSbcS5uGnxni7JgHrUqEzqpF7RccuNMJB8G9Vbc3lU2aqRcYLltP21x-_ZYpl6REzpJL61P4K3RR2Vix6j3twzZRXMP1F6rc7uaGkg6YEo0owCeN4Ix7KZclApHN/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="273" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy8Keh6m2yuLeNNW1Ywv1E5QdoRrxYj79n4UZHj8kJcy7QDqxFCHnRnGdyqywO9GPFQ4_u41svETL64JniFJjNd_F_4i-nu0xguZBqySaAcA-11ymk9oBih6rKiB3Gjkae0sxIXUMkkhTe/s1600-h/P1060064.jpg"><img title="P1060064" style="display: inline" alt="P1060064" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLcEn9nbrm2_IIlO9jBSgdt0jjFgvJAw14ZQelUm9QlNmFuNjOZu-i2xMyisbz0PezMFVD9PEyK0QqjPZsWDIlQHH9o95vOlFHLnAHWf476FMFvAWSvnsm_3jF3fOam2gzEcx3adWC0u-T/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYVsjmNXWyzmgJFM99JGJ1H3M_kdAqUiy1cF18zGpuskqZepkMUJ9FzmR-sYZtbKacfv4c6kQmXfxhaNn3nXZ0US3goFEQh179qu62wfxmc9DfV-Kvo5dW-wh5KFxQkrbqoyZHrvQWwmG_/s1600-h/P1060065.jpg"><img title="P1060065" style="display: inline" alt="P1060065" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIzR-e1HDPb3IyjgHyt1SI7uaIgG4sbW_p9JfmcTlmepr3D6ZKN9t1CXaarbCBGvhIh5DIT70HDUAVdWlB29LRk7LkVk3D73Za3u97mlh2f9SYYyHpLSxIG7NY9-V2kgwxBnbedz2E_VIA/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8SLEB5OGbKd4_IEwf7D4troHgMOBlsTul2seTqxPMpHdUDxN6FxOLqSuamntxVV0fjt-l5_2uX6j9H8G24lhh_CSnBIqhTYv30Bn5_roWvHoIA3tFh6Voh8s_V0drngEDjRU88BpKEhB_/s1600-h/PANO_20130719_171316%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130719_171316" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130719_171316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjegxYZINCubsI9Bo8y7kXuAU7F0MPXiH_E_QFTF6jQWhZjmPmRPhmxI0xnFG2QX09w8OnLzCETnxO9yLAsxHGRyCWJduqCBeTlUPcELavCHCVXW1tVBw5bxLtJanhQDXgwbBpAZD5kQzOI/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="219" /></a></p> <p>Reached the southern tip of the old city center, climbed down and walked back to the hotel.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGSFmZzz1Z6kCpMyEN8z17w8Y_FEf0f9-7_4piXyVJEX0UOlTmueUklCM4JZvjAnzQGfFwYtfD6XPVIettWdMrCGgV0cjDSlHBOSXZI2DD4dRXh5slzkh3GvNYl9ba1elU91viHSgdGn61/s1600-h/P1060072.jpg"><img title="P1060072" style="display: inline" alt="P1060072" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCKn-pPddrsZZdKybxT94_wCA5Ru7ukwiM6QiaL5En9SD4IpEJ2KZevvv00cWFA1DK_XpYoQDrsPIdXaTH7ehiL-DpAOk9V-vjwUcQzcQ4BG9VBuUH2TSyE7kTBcLoBAsXIfvniRdFK0NB/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_104dFqAlkSNjY3SuGm736uevYbG6SroRZEi6r-hac5lJ8eBgARFTOevggilNGD-JPNF-lBmBcxVPlf_JGTGq3fptq9pTEZpT9MTbB3rL22Tv2wFSz1ls6a5U1_-EkaKOBKM2PMqakmnW/s1600-h/P1060073.jpg"><img title="P1060073" style="display: inline" alt="P1060073" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7JMSGmbgcWF6pvMKKgUS3FXjWKpedI4am2vhKQfVonC4Klj_ib_LNjVpMafO93WrPSoe8LAyNEFEPktaClehiJjXsd43GnIj39I-75PARYWloCR5d0l8Q0J3SgkujO1_w_6WTuQkbTir8/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZJTkdXjNs2gdusyXJV4xLa6myugfvXJFkA9uV1SoKmH1SovG76_T2kdfVmoP6ihsjbEmWWIUFY_vMP-5yjBFG45cicHWNaXv6WHCdp2v_7TvPRVRDiPizvJJC0pI-Rq6AKGYvFL6Hr0TX/s1600-h/P1060074.jpg"><img title="P1060074" style="display: inline" alt="P1060074" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE7uuMk6Yb_rDS5wXip_KiLC-cgGOlKO_k94z_RVEAQ6_ln6SJwuL4WbGImw25F5l0uuCP2IURNUYSC0L6g0aQmCm-L6GtylO3EnWof_gdZ05arQV6UHzxwdTXEjjkw4NOAAPCuiJhrSfD/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj65-Ax1tuAPzyjkoIms4LN8i-eozzEjkmT1qSdT-6RyoMYAAtIPGjaIAgX_rBVZerw-F0hRWj7QvdjYTDN7P1CGHG49xEN1JD88Efa8sPTO09f1YUGPrDDiq6pGUotO8ibtU4CbRI_zlVO/s1600-h/P1060076.jpg"><img title="P1060076" style="display: inline" alt="P1060076" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfWCLgP_l31QNER3lCW2RkfGnlokg0riC7O3HlHBhu4vujJBptNw35D6Xf6pH7sVZ7v8Qk0dvwPSgrg3DDL3FA29racBCIZHe6gHIWredEsbP8CwU8BWm_uCbu6uquRyBE36jPKYuwvB52/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Having learned the lesson from the previous few concerts, when the announced start time didn’t correspond much with reality, I decided to go pick up the tickets as soon as the box office opens. The venue, <em>Piazza Napoleone</em>, is a square in the heart of Lucca’s old city center, and is where concerts are performed during the Lucca Summer Festival. I arrived to the Piazza just a few moments before they closed the entire area: I have no idea why they were doing this, but apparently, the entire Piazza Napoleone area is being evicted of people about 3 hours before concerts start, and you can only enter the area once again once the event’s “door opening time” arrives. Then, once you enter the Piazza, <em>you can’t leave and come back anymore</em>.</p> <p>That’s very odd, for a venue that is actually a square and is located in the very heart of the city. The question then became how the hell was I supposed to go back to my hotel once I pick up my tickets? the answer: extra ten minutes walk around the entire Piazza area.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I am willing to bet that there is no Italian translation to the word “efficiency”. No reason to have one: they never employ it anyway.</p> </div> <p>Tickets collected, back to the hotel to rest. About an hour before the concert, left once again for a pre‐concert snack. A tasty fruit crepe hit the spot well, then off to the Piazza, waiting in line to get in.</p> <p>I remember that, last time I was here in 2010, entering the venue was a huge mess: it was then when I realized how inefficiently things work in this country and how Italians simply can’t let go of this inefficiency (they apparently need it in order to survive). This time, it was less of a mess because we entered the venue about 20 minutes before the concert’s start time. As the concert time approached, though, a significant number of people were crowded against the entrance. Of course, not all people made it into the seated area by the time the concert started, resulting in people crossing the venue almost half way into the concert!</p> <p>Some bizarre, nasty incident took place at the beginning. Like in every concert, a few professional photographers (employed by the press, or the promoter, or whatever) were allowed access to the narrow gap between the stage and the fence separating the audience from the stage, to take photographs. As usual, Peter Mackay was in charge of guiding the photographers through and instructing them where exactly they should be standing (or, more precisely, where exactly they should <em>not</em> be standing. Such restrictions, I believe, are imposed by Mark and the band, and are not to the venue’s discretion).</p> <p>One particular photographer, though, didn’t quite subscribe to the idea of following these rules. While all other photographers obliged and seemed to be content with these restrictions, this particular low‐life scum decided that it wasn’t enough for him: he wanted more. He started getting into an argument with Peter, who tried to explain to the photographer that he (Peter) was simply doing his job. That explanation didn’t bode well with the rogue camera man, who proceeded to shout, yell, curse and throw the middle finger repeatedly at Peter.</p> <p>How Peter was able to maintain his cool through all of that is beyond me, but he did. Peter is there in each and every concert, and I get to see him more often than not, dealing with all sorts of annoyances—primarily demanding that people respect the band’s photographing and video‐shooting policies. No matter where you are, there’s always that punk who just <em>needs</em> to use the flash while taking a picture; and there’s always that guy who just <em>has</em> to raise his tablet up and record the show, obstructing others’ view. To me and you, these are annoyances; but it’s Peter’s job to actually deal with it. Not sure how long I could have kept my cool being in Peter’s shoes: he must have a much higher tolerance to idiots than I do.</p> <p>The concert itself was very good, featuring a shorter set. That seems to align with the last tour, as the set became shorter as the tour was nearing its end. Strong cheers from the audience who appeared to have appreciated the show. A <em>Running of the Bulls</em> session triggered before <em>Telegraph Road</em> ended up with people being sent back to their seats, only to perform a more vicious run later. The guy seated next to me simply sprang on his feet and ran amok towards the stage. I waited until the mess was all over before getting up and marching forward.</p> <p>Good encore, during which I was able to capture a photograph of a moron recording the encore using his tablet.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5PMDFAmosWJnSrcl3rmNdg4YZq1VtHuz8JbcMgf8SkLnsFPo8Vp844FLj_5GvXC5c_X1QCvLc7zpwTaoiWHLap-lWvIde7YMf6pyLGt7Xrd2EkHnjiBUG1N_QzkWzvccMlGaf5oSCTSHH/s1600-h/IMG_20130719_225850.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130719_225850" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130719_225850" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTIsETXRHH1KOqVw5misjIdEKfPwZu8PlRqLcArlnW-uulkNhQoavaGjFIrtVvpXadVqkqboB9cOq-iIZk4eijFHflnenjQtLAyJQ_3vxcrSEFfK9jt1oaz-x7HrjSjE7uPfd1myDsLp__/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Hey, moron, if you’re reading this—please don’t procreate. We’re backed up with idiots already.</p> <p>Concert was over—took a long while before the lights turned on once the band left—and the march back towards the hotel began. A five minutes walk turned into a 15–20 minutes walk due to the fact that the Piazza is located right at the city center and everybody was leaving the venue at once, often choosing to stand and chat with their friends along the way, creating traffic jams.</p> <p>Back to the hotel for a short night sleep, facing a long travel day the next morning. Wake up time: 5:30am.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Zürich. Will head out for dinner and then to the show: should be a beautiful venue tonight.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-17821397483233152322013-07-19T05:25:00.001-07:002013-09-10T12:52:51.184-07:00Taormina, Italy to Valletta, Malta (July 17, 2013)<p>Woke up in Taormina at 4:30am, ready to go. It was a good decision to take an afternoon nap the day before: I felt fresh and ready for the 2 hours drive south. Packed everything that needed packing, and shortly after 5:00am I was already in the driver’s seat, trying to navigate the car, in reverse, out of its parking spot. Small car, but still, it takes time to get used to the size of a car you had hardly driven before. A few attempts and I was out.</p> <p>The drive to Pozzallo, in the southern tip of Sicily, takes about two hours. The ferry company demands that you’re on site to check in one hour before departure, scheduled for 9:15am. Theoretically, we could have left later but it was decided to err on the side of caution: a traffic jam anywhere along the way could result in the ferry leaving without me, and we all know that world order wouldn’t allow for that.</p> <p>Taormina’s roads were nearly devoid of cars as we left. Long two hours ride with no incidents at all. Beautiful scenery: looking to the left, I could see the sun rising above the Mediterranean Sea. Sicily is beautiful and I will definitely visit again.</p> <p>Arrived to Pozzallo at around 7:30am. First thing’s first: figure out where to drop the car off and where to line up for the ferry, <em>before</em> heading to breakfast: it’s better to do these investigations when time is still on your side. Once things were figured out, we found a nearby gas station, filled up the tank and headed to Pozzallo’s town center looking for a place to have breakfast.</p> <p>Blimey, what a dead town. Nothing there. The very thought that I could have ended up spending almost an entire day here (had plans were not changed in the last minute) gave me the chills. Such a boring place. Almost nothing was open in the morning: incidentally, came across a cafe that was open and sold baked goods. The owner didn’t speak a word in English; a portrait of Castro was hung proudly on the wall, cleverly positioned so you couldn’t avoid looking at it even if you tried.</p> <p>Nutella croissant that tasted like crap and a cappuccino that tasted almost entirely unlike any cappuccino in the world should be allowed to taste. Alas, nobody had the will and patience to look for an alternative place to dine in in this God forsaken town, so I had to pay my dues and eat the garbage being served.</p> <p>That done, drove back to the Hertz booth to return the car. Again, Italian efficiency at its finest. When entering the section of the harbour where Hertz is located, you need to pass through a security guard. The security guard was sure that the car was intended to be loaded on the ferry, and him not being able to comprehend a single word in English, it was tricky conveying the message that no, this isn’t the case. The guard then went to call his friend, who happened to be speaking English, only to inform me of what I had already known: yes, I can drop my car off at Hertz; and yes, once it’s done, I need to check in to the ferry.</p> <p>That exchange took 5 minutes of my life, that I will never get back.</p> <p>Thought it ended here? wrong. Drove to the Hertz location, only to find out that the entrance to their parking lot is blocked with a long metal chain (the Hertz booth itself was closed, but they do have an afterhours key drop box). Backtracked, trying to find a way out of that mess. Two guys on site approached, asked what it was that I was doing. I told them that I’m trying to get to Hertz’s parking lot, so they sent me back to where I just came from. Drove back there, and the chain was still there. Not a complete surprise, if I might add. The two guys then looked at me, as if they were surprised to find me there; then, finally, they held the chain up high so I could enter the parking lot.</p> <p>As this is Italy and I wouldn’t trust Italian vendors to tell me that the sky is blue in a warm July day, it was decided to take pictures of the fact that the car was indeed returned and the keys were placed in the key drop box.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVfcMGLDxDdZnEwKHvmKg8FC1KJPCRVH11F2K-X0YMMHaeSIQ1t0jr24ENLJanp_q4ONT3moyT_9_eLr0tin9bePvO7aOKdA0heZGjg7PummajefO6u-qkg6-muqb5cB1fc4meJ2GoAYDR/s1600-h/IMG_2264.jpg"><img title="IMG_2264" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOAUhjiu0_rGNrfYSuwUrjFASS3coCjKNtIkjeoKFWOGx7d2G4CjKosPx3y8fysz-H53YO0z0dLdTv7FvVk6xogX5CIrW3RG1KXpZZi1YUC1oJPmdeX4diSTbiWz3umYEOcISpKEX4xVSb/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilpYbF0anjjgsvwyE6O4J11hs1B5LuNC1MXF2ypiGqiZF-7s8sWIqWAm0UdJlhKuaMNeR4d7T5JZI7x_QufvFLbP7JFGIZj5pE7BFGjns4EeYINxinYhu53HPuYmH2SaKQy9TsUUDVLtPX/s1600-h/IMG_2265.jpg"><img title="IMG_2265" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGWUDIlryiiMdZLd4Y3y2LcOI66xuO68F5miiW5RwpSRrcu6qZWOPrdM4FBl99nX-gjudO5oT5wiyVER4HG5SV7-R57KXEjc_PmJLLA3fIA9b6WQNz_IFbV9FUerXqtFbdecYtOEt7_CkQ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Phew. OK, what’s next? headed to the only place that made sense: a particular spot where a guy was standing checking people’s passports, then letting them go on through a maze of fences to some sort of a waiting area. Passport—checked. “Boarding pass please”, he asked. What boarding pass? here’s all the printed documents I have. Choose one. “No, you have to go <em>there</em> to check in”. Great, thanks. Off to the booth: two windows, only one attendant. Checked in and received a boarding pass along with a voucher for a €10 credit if I play in Malta’s casino.</p> <p>Back to the boarding line. Boarded, then was let into a “security check” area, where no security check was done at all. Once in the screened area, you can’t go back. Time: about 8:05am, more than an hour to departure.</p> <p>No seats. Wanna sit down? there’s plenty of asphalt and gravel for you to sit on. More and more tourists came coming in. Families with noisy children. The clock ticked and I practiced numbing my senses as to minimize any connection with the outside world. Luckily, my chess partner was online so I spent most of the time playing eleven (yes, eleven) chess games with him, simultaneously.</p> <p><em>FINALLY</em>, the ferry arrived. Now, how long does it take to unload a ferry? 5 minutes? 10 minutes? more than 20 minutes passed until all passengers and vehicles were unloaded. Boarding commenced, prompting everyone to remove any trace of personal space of one another. Checked my luggage and went on board.</p> <p>No assigned seats: sit wherever you’d like, just don’t dare cross that elastic band that blocks access to the stairway going up, as the top floor is for VIPs. Did what I always do first when I’m on a ferry: looked for the door leading to the deck. Sat on the deck, overlooking the beautiful Mediterranean Sea, and decided to do some writing under the sun. It went well for a couple of minutes, until it turned out that my laptop’s screen was too dusty and dirty, resulting in sunlight reflecting back to me, resulting in me not being able to see anything.</p> <p>A sudden drop in energy level prompted me to head back inside, find a seat and try to pass out, which I think I did but no evidence to that exists as the Dutchman himself was already seated, mouth wide open sleeping his guts out (he didn’t take my advice to get an afternoon nap the day before).</p> <p>Somehow, the ferry ride which should have taken less than two hours ended up taking two and a half hours, and feeling like nine hundred hours. Have I mentioned Italian efficiency already in this post? have I? good. Once the ferry docked, it took about fifteen minutes until passengers were allowed to leave. Why? first, of course, you need to wait for the honourable VIPs to depart: “Everybody please stand in a circle and watch the VIPs as they gracefully go down the stairs and leave the ferry before you”. As the ferry was carrying independent travellers (such as the Dutchman and I) as well as organized tours, some guidance had to be given as to which tourist group needs to go to which ferry deck, so they’re collected by the applicable buses. These announcements had to be done in multiple languages—Italian, English and <em>I’m guessing</em> Maltese. They even went more fine‐grained there: “buses number 3 and 4 will have the tour instructor speaking Russian and English; buses number 5 and 6 will have…”.</p> <p>To add salt to injury, not all passengers necessarily listened to the instructions given to them over the speakers, so they came by and asked the staff personally.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>If the above description is causing your brain to sweat, then I’m doing an excellent job conveying to you what I was feeling.</p> </div> <p>What a mess.</p> <p>Was happy to leave that damned ferry. Went down the stairs and all I saw was beige.</p> <p>And more beige.</p> <p>Everywhere I looked, I saw beige.</p> <hr /> <p>I knew nothing about <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malta">Malta</a> before coming here. Sorry, erase that: I knew a few things. I knew that it’s an island and that it’s a part of the European Union. I knew that there’s a language out there called <em>Maltese</em>, and I was inclined to believe that it was Malta’s formal language. I also knew that it is a popular tourist destination for Israelis.</p> <p>Plus, of course, I knew everything that there was to know about how to get from Sicily to Malta (see the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/napoli-to-taormina-italy-july-15-16-2013.html">previous post</a>).</p> <p>Temperature kissed the 9,000℃ mark, and as Malta is an island in which you’re never too far from the see, humidity levels were just above 815,000%. Hot. Too hot. Collected my luggage and headed to the nearby building which is supposed to be an “arrivals hall” but seemed to be functioning solely as a passage to the outside world.</p> <p>A glance in <em>Google Maps</em> revealed that the hotel for the night, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g190328-d1765647-Reviews-Luciano_Valletta_Boutique_Accommodation-Valletta_Island_of_Malta.html">Luciano Valletta Boutique Hotel</a>, was located more than 2km away with a positive elevation gain. Take a taxi? sure, why not. Followed the sign saying “Taxis” and we found ourselves outside the station, a few taxis lined up and shady people approaching us asking “taxi? taxi?”.</p> <p>If there’s something I learned throughout my adult life, it is this: when a stranger approaches you on the street, they want your money. If a stranger approaches you on the street suggesting things to you, then “no” is <em>always</em> the right answer. Read any European travel guide and it will tell you that people approaching you and asking you if you’d like a taxi, in close to 100% of the cases, are complete crooks.</p> <p>The Dutchman, however, decided to be smart.</p> <p>– “How much is it?”, he asked.</p> <p>– “€15”, the driver said, <em>without even asking where it is that we wanted to get to</em>.</p> <p>Finally, a taxi driver with a sixth sense.</p> <p>The Dutchman, apparently, missed on that crucial detail.</p> <p>– “To the city center?”, he asked.</p> <p>– “Yes.”</p> <p>– “We need to get to a hotel called ‘Valletta Boutique’.”</p> <p>The taxi driver squinted.</p> <p>– “I can take you very close to the hotel for €15. For €20, I’ll take you all the way to the door.”</p> <p>That was when I already lost my patience and just muttered towards the Dutchman “come on, let’s go” and started walking towards the hotel. The Dutchman was still processing the new data in his mind as the taxi driver started persuading him to hire his services. “But you’re going the wrong way!”, the driver said in a last attempt to extort cash out of innocent tourists.</p> <p>The march towards the hotel was excruciating. I felt as if I was in the middle of a boxing ring, surrounded by professional boxers, each one landing their own blows onto my face in sequence. The weather on one side; hunger on another side; thirst on another; tiredness on yet another. How I survived that walk without passing out is beyond me.</p> <p><em>AND WHY IS EVERYTHING HERE COLOURED BEIGE???</em></p> <p>And it wasn’t just beige: it was light beige. And you know what happens when the sun shines upon light beige, right? right. The light reflects back to you. So now, not only I was tired, hungry, thirsty and sweating like a sprinkler, I sometimes couldn’t even see clearly where I was going.</p> <p>At some point, I did notice some green.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-tyB2Z8FywE13TwtMEu4V3WL3Qr6t_-LCyzT2x9hScg0B7GZnMVbwRKriIJW3EMlCQWgP9vMa6bF01VYLm9HxR2lTiE0BV9ty59tiHzcmlUX_PsnqOSYyJNV6vkloXY8Gkzv1ucwHOqZM/s1600-h/PANO_20130717_115736%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130717_115736" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130717_115736" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6GJdkSe5pjomVUInIcxEalNQbzoImz6YlG-IM1rHZPLy8oy4tGdZTZxwT8jRcaG72phMpN4HUO8j3YOj7CrYXZ_hk_aPNOdh2Jr71VCAGP_0dH5ZjcmE4CYhaHtpHfhg07VwUhKBKz36/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="213" /></a></p> <p>About half an hour walk in hell, and I stood where <em>Google Maps</em> claimed that the hotel should be.</p> <p>I didn’t see any hotel. I saw many restaurants, but not a hotel.</p> <p>Took a few minutes to figure it out: the hotel was actually located above a <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g190328-d1907682-Reviews-Luciano_Restaurant-Valletta_Island_of_Malta.html">restaurant by the same name</a>. It was crowded inside, but at least the air conditioner was on. One of the waitresses checked us in, asked us to leave our luggage behind and come back a couple of hours later as check‐in time was 2:00pm.</p> <p>Fine.</p> <p>Grabbed my backpack (as I thought I may use the time to do some writing) and we went to resolve a burning issue: hunger. A couple of recommendations in <em>TripAdvisor</em> turned out to be closed, so the final honour of having me over for lunch befell on a place called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g190328-d1193298-Reviews-La_Mere_Restaurant-Valletta_Island_of_Malta.html">La Mere Restaurant</a>, located right at the main street in Valletta’s city center. The restaurant serves Maltese and Indian food, as well as fusion of both. Delicious.</p> <p>From there, to <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g190328-d2167888-Reviews-Cafe_Caravaggio-Valletta_Island_of_Malta.html">Cafe Caravaggio</a>, simply because they had a nice patio. Food prices seem to be relatively low in Malta, comparing to other European destinations.</p> <div class="indented"> <p><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Economy_of_Malta">Malta’s economy</a> is small and very fragile. It produces about one fifth of the food needed to feed its inhabitants, and has no domestic energy sources: all energy in Malta is produced from oil (even though it could mitigate energy prices by using solar power), and all oil is imported as, again, Malta has no domestic energy sources.</p> <p>What do people here live from, then? manufacturing and tourism. Tourism generates 35% of the GDP in Malta, and this is supported by the capital city, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valletta">Valletta</a>, looking like one huge tourist trap. Without tourism, Malta would be in trouble.</p> </div> <p>2:00pm sharp—back to the hotel/restaurant, where one of the waitresses showed us the room. Really funky place, doesn’t look like a hotel at all. Taking the elevator the second floor, you leave the elevator straight into what looks like a maintenance room of a restaurant. Three doors there—one to each room. Definitely not your usual hotel corridor. The room itself, however, was great and very comfortable.</p> <p>What wasn’t comfortable was being neighbours to a stupid family that kept talking loudly outside their room.</p> <p>About a week prior, we noticed that the hotel reservation for Malta specifies that air conditioning is provided for an “extra charge”. Puzzled, I sent them an email and got the following reply:</p> <div class="indented"> <p><em>Dear Mr. Isaac,</em></p> <p><em>We thank you for your reservation at our Boutique Accommodation. Kindly note that air‐ conditioning is according to consumption. We will give you a 5 euro card upon check in which will give your around 6 hrs of air conditioning free of charged. If you would like more hours you can top your card by another 5 euro to have another 6 hours</em>.</p> </div> <p>(All typos in source.)</p> <p>I was therefore very intrigued to see how that would work. I inquired about this, and to my puzzlement, the waitress/hostess told me that there’s no reason to worry about it, we’ll have air conditioning running for the entire time for no extra charge.</p> <p>Thumbs up.</p> <p>Did some writing as the air conditioner cooled the room off until it felt like an Igloo. Eyes started to shut down, so I went to bed and took a royal, fantastic nap.</p> <hr /> <p><em>markknopfler.com</em>, this tour around, has reported wrong concert times for a few concerts already. Not sure why exactly, but in general, I believe that there simply are way too many intermediary parties between the person determining the start time and the person who ends up sending emails to ticket purchasers informing them about the start time. Like most inconsistencies in life, this one can also be attributed to human error.</p> <p>Decided not to trust the reported start times anymore. As the venue was located close to the hotel, and the tickets for the concert were under the Dutchman’s name, he volunteered to simply go there when the box office opens, collect the tickets and then proceed to see the city (if there is enough time); I stayed at the hotel, writing some more after waking up.</p> <p>Lo and behold: the concert tickets reported a start time 30 minutes earlier than the one reported by <em>markknopfler.com</em>. OK. Time to wrap things up and get ready to go to the concert. Left the hotel late, and decided to grab a bite before heading to the concert. On the way to the venue, nothing special really popped up so we decided to share a <em>Subway</em> sandwich. That did the trick: last meal for the day.</p> <hr /> <p>The concert venue in Malta is called <em>Il‐Fosos</em>, which means “Pits” in Maltese (and Spanish). The place is also called “The Granaries” in English. Nowadays, this place is a public square; but what’s more interesting is what this place was used for up until not too long ago.</p> <p>The place is called “The Granaries” in English for a reason: the square itself is built upon multiple pits where wheat and grain used to be stored to feed the population of Malta. The pits were constructed in the 17<sup>th</sup> century, and they were constructed underground in order to protect that food during times of war. These granaries were used to store grain up until 1962, when a new above‐ground silo was constructed.</p> <p>This square is located in front of St. Publius Church.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMd_l0g5JeLAbgYoWtGin6_pRf29GF8DwVxX_MNIIFRldmaQlTLCVBoLB2h-F9QCjbLrwWwYWXIrnkRnHwfjb1NZnbBeURIUKCn7J1JCABmFLMhBUm_1JkNq2eQmAPTG3uJYYXY5_5_zBt/s1600-h/PANO_20130717_200347%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130717_200347" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130717_200347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-TBDocxP2Z2HsRnf85RRhF8j-PWrO5jU66v4Eglr-anwKSgyOWCBSJqUSo0Xs-rA7Od9Ph4zxXnFhyb0JxpvaZf_4OJBCLZNHO_yArrWTb0WqSbrgwRPPxExjltvKiaqpeeJKQkU6sRtn/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="168" /></a></p> <p>The venue configuration allowed for seating in the front, and standing in the back. A fence separated between the two sections.</p> <p>One thing that was of particular interest was this:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQV7jffZ_vFHG0yjL74iQPXYo3slTtlb0J7PVBZDtUhTlTqbAS7BGTt44T1zhO0vW5UbzRqBwnNYfU9OClf-YpCYVbDbhzX57gVESIfdSB5txFcu4vKU-3g4tTYZswtTFlGlcI2vWhKUWT/s1600-h/IMG_2282.jpg"><img title="IMG_2282" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8FR3h5yiOFFfP02xxfkB9_CsYxRgHokWbbbyWW6vcGtI6-PH3bHhIg3_x8aofTIVUwKgMeZIAe6ijcSIQ8BgwuE8oz8J_ro9L_SURiAiUJi7KGQq3vKu-2sZZA49bvyuJGLhUhYTINW8R/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The stage was high. Between the stage and the front rows, was a thick wooden surface, supported by metal pegs.</p> <p>The square itself seemed to be on a slope. I concluded that because the distance between the wooden surface and the floor remained more or less constant from left to right, but the height of the stage (relatively to the wooden surface) decreased as you headed towards the right hand side of the stage (the stage itself, obviously, must not be on a slope).</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8hXA3az8BNIFY2qO0mXRa6UE5spsJs3pAN77fBJU51bxbhrGuGAddb2FqIisGJKAW7hzDk08ZYKuwMUNxmyIAPdpMTRU8_5-bKdwpWxPzh5BILBYheH8zT01B32Ls48mjgdZ1Ubt-e-y/s1600-h/IMG_2283.jpg"><img title="IMG_2283" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8fRwsgd1_kLpA6mzhnHZS_VWTHMtxclUb5K2butzoy4VOHCGCMlG7_56So5IdWDD-SjPh9naf69k42Z1lL443vvSVoYlRC7ef-3Zpv9xqdtyREF4gXgVmSXfX4cIJRNeh5jbRydJK6YTP/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The venue quickly filled in, however the concert didn’t start before 8:30pm—half an hour past the time written on the ticket. You see, now I am confused. I have absolutely no idea why it is so difficult to coordinate these things—it’s frustrating and, more than being frustrating, it’s outright ridiculous.</p> <p>A few songs into the concert, Mark noticed that there were people watching the concert from the roof of one of the buildings surrounding the square. Seemed like a government building of some sort, which led Mark to ask whether it’s the “Prime Minister or something” watching the concert from there.</p> <p>Also about half way through the concert, a helicopter was flying around the square’s perimeter, then vanished. Mark again asked who could it be in that chopper, to which one audience member shouted “The President”.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjN3MrcLxVZO6ENtc61cDGsv_MgP32M89mUI5OzLeoSSPeq8vJn8xleawEf3z-sBO0KAI5hVIhKWz8fMTkzVZ_8B5BorMa5ic-XcWgHHAf_zDeul3iwZ9i5gMZvPzUdffLhina9QrQjsPB/s1600-h/IMG_2284.jpg"><img title="IMG_2284" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRE5T5-7IGbPA2CbhaK-0DcsErhgN8GnwIwyJrI9T9aVP75evK5AhZ2SnxgZGRygrCokwXDVOszj2dkrToXiW0jsUwB60AZGJbGLhViS85nrK3W1eOyo04L0sJNFSB47priatwCbci_WYL/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Good concert, with a good receptive audience, except for a group of idiots sitting right behind me who chose to talk nonstop during the entire concert. I don’t even think they were listening to the music. That, puzzlingly, didn’t stop them from cheering <em>between</em> songs. Well, as I said many times before, the world is full of idiots; and the problem with alcohol is, that in most cases, when consumed without moderation, it intensifies one’s idiocy and turns it from being the problem of one person (the idiot) to a problem of many (all people surrounding said idiot in a concert).</p> <p>Towards the encore, people started leaving their seats and approaching the stage. <em>So Far Away</em> was played while people were dancing (harmlessly) in front of the band. <em>Piper to the End</em> and the show was over.</p> <p>Back to the hotel, made a small detour to see what the colour beige looks like in the dark, when lit with yellow light.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI6Pkr4Rmldzbd3Mrj4DAznvzxksQ9zzQ5Iiltdu5TJ_tGPg5w_OLpKA2F6NWiMx0TiKD5THO_IO0QWgiDJKpsWYI6GYF0lT4dyKKxrhzyytjALvJhHUuSSHe3CqnhwYLcJjgcplSHV8QI/s1600-h/P1060014.jpg"><img title="P1060014" style="display: inline" alt="P1060014" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoIpwo6cYHzJuN7KgN9ATUiRoirh-9PsL1Qh1tEl-js1-KGC1ZTJVHU0VEjCKQgmvj7oOeigdt7zPi5rB0jHeokcSONzlVR7sDGjQ-bmQQxzzhrKvHt1v3TCeKOd6xT87xi1ehZxw3HmH3/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9pQGooW8AsvVYnV_D4HrrNcHjEZLeRb23qE1Fn3jVXQwZawVctU50mtxlZJIvIxgMvliRcF5oO86wpFHPyDO-1JmmwgIlbP-Wxhv9h1ZHUz4qGBb0kVrdpLERum6cz8hRUNePOgR7RjL/s1600-h/P1060015.jpg"><img title="P1060015" style="display: inline" alt="P1060015" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxG9CO9NfbwrbVgXY4fda_iJx5TOiMtgzgkd94yVxfeUuU5nKBQaKQzkhgcdxR1ETa5Vs3p09oBV-BU6UziDcqOAq7f0uHzzJT25M11JJggqIw7MV-uhrvvBxmQCx5teOsYPhDF70ejXz5/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilVdHwR_C40TJ0T7Ww5_C5eiB9rZNCknsxqIgM6eWRMNyK8mEr9tTNLRXfjgZgQRJt4wN1c7QJfcUPtOGiWpyI36UYxGc3s1X_6mHH5iCD4dapFjVVJFDnJzX_XmEeWfitszD4bdBefyaO/s1600-h/P1060018.jpg"><img title="P1060018" style="display: inline" alt="P1060018" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWwYJtkjo0nhYDldYmIihOcRhsQ7PXjTNZCBvU49S-dXBPlvPzLPeenugkbxHbFIAPuCvCWx5h__1DH55Pj-rwuwqVOrjwNoj_NG5nqQwD-SbX9MTihBt16XIGoByi0jrEsekb_l9iZ1Qc/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Back to the hotel and I was happy to see bed again. Looked forward to the next day: a day off, used to take the <em>very last flight</em> for the tour departing in the evening, leaving enough time to see more beige.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Lucca, Italy.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-53099212430924515042013-07-18T04:13:00.001-07:002013-09-10T08:32:07.085-07:00Napoli to Taormina, Italy (July 15–16, 2013)<p>Almost three months into the tour, July 15 signified the beginning of the Sicily‐Malta mayhem.</p> <p>Why mayhem? The short period of the tour, from Sicily to Malta and then back to northern Italy, was the hardest period to plan for in the entire tour. Most other destinations were planned out down to the smallest travel detail; a few destinations were planned out, and then altered along the way; but only one period of the tour kept being altered throughout the tour—and it was this period, from Sicily to Malta.</p> <p>There were simply too many “moving parts” to consider, and too few options for travel—some of which remained unknown until just a few days ago.</p> <p>Many readers, who were courteous enough to introduce themselves to me during the tour, were interested to know what it was like planning this enormous journey.</p> <p>Well, here’s a taste. Buckle up: it’s going to be long.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-FUPc2GC9ocAvJM8qVUwyN18_x7ir9UaGWMk-CCqyzn8g4BrggB1pWifLat0u2dOSW4AxfOVEPPudANiA8EFbzvY1AbsvPlYfM9VqqukZeth0-9xfMcZuZ212rOxgEwu-_A2GojS92D7-/s1600-h/Sicily%252520section%25255B3%25255D.png"><img title="Sicily section" style="display: inline" alt="Sicily section" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb9CsKglzjhxSh9u95whlkn5_a-Vko21KQQOd8vvlxCMPW8CFC0eZvcQed73DWDoU05W_6cq2QSNxrPlB8s3Uf4Odc4fG89E6b5SfR0XAzmoVzAXWMvu74b4nZbDRtVQNGy2NlPbMN81oN/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="490" /></a></p> <p>(Image captured from <em>Google Maps</em>. The marked locations, from top to bottom: Napoli; Taormina; Catania; Siracusa; Pozzallo; Malta).</p> <p>To get to Malta, you can either swim, fly, or take the ferry (if your name is Jesus, you might be able to walk it). Swimming was out of the question as Jeroen isn’t in good physical shape, so we had to resort to either flying or taking the ferry.</p> <p>Flying would mean selling a few internal organs on the black market, which left the ferry as the only viable option.</p> <p>The ferry to Malta departs from Pozzallo. There are two ways to take that ferry:</p> <ol> <li>Board a bus in Catania (not far from Taormina), which takes you straight to the ferry terminal in Pozzallo. </li> <li>Get to the ferry terminal yourself. </li> </ol> <p>Of course, option (1) would make most sense, as Catania is easily accessible by train from Napoli <em>and</em> is very close to Taormina.</p> <p>This ideal option is available every day of the week except for Wednesdays. Commensurable to my luck in life, July 17 happened to be a Wednesday.</p> <p>The meaning: after attending the concert in Taormina, we needed to somehow get to Pozzallo—at the very southern tip of Sicily—for the next morning (there are two ferry departures every day. To catch the concert, the 9:15am ferry is the only viable option). No public transport exists in Sicily to take you to Pozzallo from Taormina so early in the morning (just under two hours drive).</p> <p>So… a car rental was required. One‐way car rentals are almost always a problem: they’re either too expensive or altogether impossible to do (from the point of view of a car rental agency, one‐way car rentals present logistical challenges).</p> <p>The plan we originally came up with, then, was to head as south as possible in Sicily during the day off—ideally spending the night in Pozzallo. A hotel room was booked in Pozzallo, as well as a car (pick up and drop‐off both in Pozzallo).</p> <p>The question now became how to get to Pozzallo. It is possible to do this by train in one day from Napoli, but we’re talking about a <em>very long</em> ride with tight connections. Therefore, we decided to do the following: use the day off to fly from Napoli to Catania; take the train to Siracusa; spend the night in Siracusa; take the train early morning to Pozzallo.</p> <p>Then, another problem surfaced. There was only one car rental agency in Pozzallo: <em>Hertz</em>. Now, Hertz in Pozzallo are open only during certain hours in the day: in the morning until 10:00am, and then from 5:00pm to 7:00pm. The first train from Siracusa to Pozzallo leaves 10:00am, which meant that, once in Pozzallo, we couldn’t pick up the car before 5:00pm. We assumed it would be OK because the drive from Pozzallo to Taormina takes about 2 hours, and the concert was scheduled to start at 9:30—tight, but possible.</p> <p>To summarize, the original plan was as follows:</p> <div class="indented"> <p>July 15:</p> <ul> <li>Fly from Napoli to Catania. </li> <li>Train from Catania to Siracusa. </li> <li>Spend the night in Siracusa. </li> </ul> <p>July 16:</p> <ul> <li>Take first train to Pozzallo. </li> <li>Check in to the hotel in Pozzallo. </li> <li>On 5:00pm, rent the car and head directly to Taormina for the concert. </li> <li>After the concert (approximately 11:30pm), drive back to Pozzallo. </li> <li>Spend the night in Pozzallo. </li> </ul> <p>July 17:</p> <ul> <li>Return the rental car. </li> <li>Board the ferry. </li> </ul> </div> <p>Hectic, but it is what it is: we couldn’t see any better option.</p> <p>Until Nîmes.</p> <p>Arriving at Nîmes, we realized that energy levels are going down. The extensive travel over the past few months started taking its toll, so we sat down together to review the rest of the itinerary and see whether we can improve things a little.</p> <p>Surprisingly, I was able to find a one‐way car rental from Siracusa (where we already had a hotel booked) to Pozzallo. The only problem was, that the rental had to be confirmed first with the local Hertz dealer in Siracusa and the confirmation was said to take a few days. We still held on to the previous plan, but now, an alternate “path” was made possible (pending the rental car’s confirmation):</p> <div class="indented"> <p>July 16:</p> <ul> <li>Pick up the car in Siracusa (after having spent the night there) in the morning. </li> <li>Drive to Pozzallo, check into the hotel there and put the luggage in the room (for safety). </li> <li>Drive back to Taormina. </li> <li>After the concert, drive back to Pozzallo. </li> </ul> </div> <p>The advantage of this alternate path was that we wouldn’t have to wait until 5:00pm to leave Pozzallo, thus reducing the risk of missing the concert <em>and</em> reducing the amount of time had to be spent in Pozzallo, which seemed to be a dodgy town with absolutely nothing to do in it.</p> <p>A few days after requesting the one‐way car rental, it was approved.</p> <p>Still, as you shall see shortly, the plan changed even further later on.</p> <hr /> <p>Woke up in Napoli and headed to breakfast. It was a slow wake‐up as the flight to Catania was scheduled to depart at 4:40pm. The hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187785-d646334-Reviews-Hotel_Piazza_Bellini-Naples_Province_of_Naples_Campania.html">Hotel Piazza Bellini</a>, boasts a really nice patio so I my plan for the day is do nothing except sitting there.</p> <p>I would, of course, not mind going to see some of Napoli’s attractions—I had heard that their harbour area is very nice—but, knowing how hectic the upcoming couple of days were going to be, I decided to conserve my energy and do as little as possible until all difficult travel is done with. The Dutchman had different thoughts, which prompted him to flee the scene shortly after breakfast as I stayed behind.</p> <p>Started writing but couldn’t quite concentrate. Remembering that there’s a nice looking cafe right around the corner, in Piazza Bellini itself, I decided to take my backpack, sit there and do some writing while sipping cold coffee.</p> <p>As I was walking the short (even less than 50 meters) distance to that cafe, something prompted me to just keep on walking. Piazza Bellini is located in one of Napoli’s older, much less touristic areas, so I decided to take a short walk around to see what Napoli would look like without annoying tourists and their even more annoying noisy children.</p> <p>It was, for some reason, more exciting than I initially expected.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP2bGWflCbxzsh1UUPn8gdEOQY0Z90Q6T1S94hhkRqfFHiD9qLK67j-xZVGNw0qP5MGoukpQzKoqRvln6F8nRTRFLB307EQTcibFrWeUjDFq82XTYU6-UaV5qUlXM-0kl4PEdgRuAlQdNy/s1600-h/P1050952.jpg"><img title="P1050952" style="display: inline" alt="P1050952" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA9xnjV0vt_yBSIxNo1_UfDRP6thNF4Xo4bomk3p6h0M2dvv2-WcUDUDc_G5kmxp5XESYTsLCejOS41HYvGoB_2DXk5vIIHr1j2NnEznELsN4lOPqMdxaQ6_T7b4HZRFwhbzIiER6Kr1T9/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZef7w4YjoNVEZnnUaFLmrrgJ4RVWxeCUm2OeGjtWX2_CFNOUNoIpdI10dxShlWkHIEfhzqb9PX3k47-ZVc7qGr6kmHKKCnX8YnYpoGS5qwD2J2fv15m7BtXzhED6TTm9FM3fcu-pKGbE/s1600-h/P1050953.jpg"><img title="P1050953" style="display: inline" alt="P1050953" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3KOKhyphenhyphenDZgPyP7LUNFAecMXZMAvuZ9ywfLNZmqoh6aB13latGTpqceZAfEIopDisQ1npIBbRH4bBLcoVAYVx_XiaT2idKO80do8tDfANi2yR_m-c4oGm0DFAxDt2I01-nASz_G1aMDP0RR/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The feeling walking through these narrow, old, crowded, dusty streets wasn’t entirely pleasant: it was a somewhat “rough” feeling. Here is life in Napoli, unabridged. Real, unpolished. No significant attempts to please tourists’ eyes.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3aR1seoHKhSp7sIB4ge2qoOevlKjtCxSZZIFVGaLt9nUeOki51w7HV8g4F0yJenYJdeeUDYENNScLLhBZV0Didre69sA5msfQ2rtf_WQhWAUSFOqyAeIJgyBXXhhGknq0RDMCZ5-qbbSo/s1600-h/P1050954.jpg"><img title="P1050954" style="display: inline" alt="P1050954" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81L54eGuJGz-8skWZ3tl7AuP6smN6ONuinH0BUIhZXrD1vbgkHtrfbRkGqsqg6SdzCFiUsz0DGTsLZGLHfD7fyDq24pe_tZ-L7VpGQud2NxHfM3x4w8RzAil85xcNvMd5WrXTqjKuem0O/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3bGRKXXIUEsQbLuHVsEXNUm_P78jEwvzQa8gK6r0mw-ECoYzTaooWPozgwFR37q69tpfkQiPcOOU67-IGYyWZpUoKZD39h6YA9NheiqGTCXt22C07uOEL966c2-rOOlmai58bP1wzXFbH/s1600-h/P1050955.jpg"><img title="P1050955" style="display: inline" alt="P1050955" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9azXG4nawdjz8P-bb8cnCw4N7_xtNkSHOGxQ-O8Th_JRjvYYGuspczkJQAhD0iEisTbqiAuMHByjfMdrrhjsAq_sK0Lrg1Ruki68ZhqeckxiEb4wemGniWJhAW8C6cykwuDczm1ijJF7E/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbd-AlYpx1NmQykdZCHkmCP_0mz5kLRv0-q8KNiI4cess8TN7-NWLPV2iMNDnv1sgZRj2SRtagPBdClh_KRknUA4-NDdNh5EtD-u7qw0zW2gmcVTjNWmr24aTzcVIot33XOpOVVERV9VOt/s1600-h/P1050956.jpg"><img title="P1050956" style="display: inline" alt="P1050956" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNCqzCxqj9hQGrPtT5xtm744FbmkuV846bka487OruvfmPqAZOkV9h9-o56VstB0E6Ll9NXnuBUUM6eDiwxFSjLj8VZZit1xi5EmRX8mNiJEnn7sCNsGChQ7-NqysoQLu_bOUfTUES5UHJ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4ggnbezraJOtva4U2MVzIZiUB8dgrSOXzFD7vnz6WrABPLQnvPm1NNnxhYhX_l7TOuEBi_AuIVGL1pKj_XYLt_TzO62KZh59lWoZLKRhXtZ7QfHOrMYzZq3OxDBAd8PmNCl1ALMdDc8B/s1600-h/P1050958.jpg"><img title="P1050958" style="display: inline" alt="P1050958" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzM1DdWqruva77Po_nJvZeVbvxYYV8zB0aR2JkXkNvLx9RaGQaAzYH5yR87eSf1hpx0fIcgkbG-fRsGT1GNlwat5weHgcR9P4G5-lKypjACzlEYRShI-oLUqvjA9b0NhskFlUebkitUyN0/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>In fact, as I was walking down this street—a mere 100m walk; I already said that I wasn’t in the position to take long, excruciating walks—wearing my backpack and holding my camera, I received quite a few suspicious looks from locals. People there were probably asking themselves what the hell would a tourist look for in this place to begin with.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlHcUnVW8XgDpaqfyngDEmCZv8kJc4FE2u6G1nDTusiSuozHRUAvkqADLC_MT8cYV6w5VYAoJhzBptmPWfSdo2Qiv68PE8UemVJ0SPNL-6OQlrZY56XdHDlmlKpDgrVCjV3SY4VJx1FKI/s1600-h/P1050959.jpg"><img title="P1050959" style="display: inline" alt="P1050959" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOZWxXZy9nX07mK1fPRIZIzhyphenhyphenyX9eIx9hrEuVwOwtF24b_gqcuiMIQZBD_OGYO_9xgLWF7jOcRs39-y7lKQ9tBnJknRW7g2Fi3VfvKCD2NpO2mDUDzRKjY1V3X0aNRbbxL_nOZNDDoc25/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCygInCQp9UkJagzHJHmqDbzzYzybdIrHYzRFhvsuof9EQUcH7Wsi4O0eyBbK0dbaf3rOoxY03c3n9gTE5AbiKlkHr0MULcFtqsvMsHPU5UclAxENd3bguMxQT_7hVa7uwN6mJWKjpUZhs/s1600-h/P1050960.jpg"><img title="P1050960" style="display: inline" alt="P1050960" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdK1pYihpZ472CIYF3qbVkGbf9Ej8ToWYQhT4u_Cj7UMYOlP-zJpGHPRMnfbqeOePWtaYC8Lqt0bqKIkTegki-7fHEQZObnb7o1d76oCwKWxBERqqmXO5IYoduqGhc1vs8op7zHY1g3TcW/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Narrow alleys, showing just how crowded life can get here. A woman hanging clothes to dry on her balcony; the balcony—actually the entire building—is so old that I was wondering what’s keeping it upright. So crowded, you could spit into your neighbour’s balcony.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFEIRiI2vVcJHtCdqrVYZtKYKSnBS4E9iIwffDihgfZY5TC1gNCzW6cy8QIX0jShpjGY-LidxygNRry9aYZpzZO4XosQpJ8w2KfHzGEPQglI4wMe0PfEP6EQX_rL3Y3FA7WSHp_HiQCpl/s1600-h/P1050961.jpg"><img title="P1050961" style="display: inline" alt="P1050961" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV1NfSaG_-OJ5mSiH2ft8NvA9AC3y5BXr_Fu9vpbMfAuzAbjTH_ndAkALQkUJS1YUKKsxiSmUFVG1XpVHFFkk5KapSboBOaAX_E6GUxCBoEG_iRwgobsc4fqPaAha6ruD7z5MTEQpVBVE6/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9B6N5A94O3j60xZEkYhWDG_VxJMYY8ei0UhAH6LsifPauxaetOsCIMHg9y6wlC34KUx8lBTewnRarRjNCB31PGHLSwDKqXgA9_ocZhlw2diRPPQMRfDygLikgREl_9_peBb_gvgJCJIPk/s1600-h/P1050962.jpg"><img title="P1050962" style="display: inline" alt="P1050962" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFY7cfRT3QcA3HffPXZsPEJCyiQ5KsjgZ_GslYIFNaPWMF-RDfTGat7-6aFxNgDgQ_y1IERbw1bg4d1D0wesRzgdmhq6YwtBcf-HcPr0lmtRAcM-3U8dAwm30JTCjxi6k4x-dmFTHfnjXr/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Small, authentic stores selling fruit and vegetables for ridiculously low prices. All sorts of locally‐made pasta’s are wrapped in small bags and offered for sale, again for ridiculously low prices.</p> <p>With each and every step, I just <em>felt</em> how old that street was. People here are clearly not in a rush anywhere. Back in Vancouver, when my FiOS‐based Internet connection doesn’t work as fast as I’m used for it to work, I get anxious; here, they probably don’t care at all what FiOS Internet connection means. And, somehow, they live on.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcmSpsV9EQKXLlL5p4TKk4i43g7lCv6uox8Yd5RUWK6zjRSKmX3y-0gGrZBDoGLGtmPyUQZK5DbLTc4dGj6L86p8swgqdwrg8uV6wUhgeHnJVBf297-DPf2d3tg7E7fbRQs8BKNjLrEMIp/s1600-h/P1050963.jpg"><img title="P1050963" style="display: inline" alt="P1050963" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhql21D72b5J3fs1i7XEONxpxyU6gMXz-NTvK4PbyMOSUei2Q2SC6hHR5rD39GQoOgp-d84dLDSOHK7BgyZEP_GlZ8eiU6TloY6TwHiOT9RVY8AziIPgSdErCyQOxb4StihXCbyqT-UHeLj/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2YLqRCa11LJb1KzQUoNzjcsRUEHU6vgmzj1nBtkSLHiqZvfweSUh6mR98GgmOqCuVIgYWismf-Sr7d1_alrQQ1PxMdwuKs8D0CLfazj75Q30VaG67ToIhuMRvLKcQphrMvbBdnEGG79N/s1600-h/P1050964.jpg"><img title="P1050964" style="display: inline" alt="P1050964" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisGnOK2s5P4PI8kRjo7PNF7pgnDFaEpsGl_7lH6iYY7AR2j2eX_-kTJ2EYq7yA8xrWZacAsXYo-2vCuCT189oxq3xHT3-o434ZRulPleqHo-2GfDqgJA1rPwAQu0lGKUfsSNRpeyUr3MNi/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Fascinating.</p> <p>Back to the cafe in Piazza Bellini; ordered cold espresso with milk, got something different than what I was asking for, and sat down to do some writing.</p> <p>An hour or so later, the Dutchman decided to return from his excursion discovering Napoli’s tourist areas and joined me in the cafe. A small fruit salad for lunch, and headed back to the hotel, where our luggage was stored.</p> <p>Sitting down at the hotel’s patio, just waiting for the time to pass by, it was evident that nobody was really looking forward for this day to unfold. The preceding few days were very hectic, especially with respect to getting back to our hotels every night after the show. Energy levels were very low.</p> <p>Alas, a plan is a plan. Got up, grabbed luggage, dialled for a taxi and fifteen minutes later we were in Napoli’s airport.</p> <p>Through the course of my “normal” life (that is: my life when I’m not following Knopfler’s tours), I fly a lot, both domestically and internationally. During 2012–2013 alone, I visited Israel five times; inside Canada, I fly a few times a year for business. I am no stranger to airports, which is why I have a rule: I always show up at the airport about an hour and a half before departure. That’s because I’m used to Air Canada’s efficiency and the entire airport experience in Vancouver’s, Toronto’s and Tel Aviv’s airports.</p> <p>In Europe, though, I become a little stressed. I already noticed that public transport companies in Europe tend to be less efficient than their North American counterparts, and in Italy, merely mentioning the word “efficiency” will prompt people to point their finger at you and laugh. That’s why I wasn’t very disappointed to find out, upon arriving to Napoli’s airport, that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meridiana">Meridiana</a>’s check‐in counter wasn’t even open yet.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Oh, talking about efficiency: Meridiana does offer online check‐in, but still requires you to print the following documents and bring them with you to the airport:</p> <ul> <li>Your boarding pass. </li> <li>Your seat assignment (if you chose your seat online). </li> <li>Your baggage receipt (proving that you paid for your baggage). </li> </ul> <p>Between Jeroen and myself, we ended up with eight printed pages. Well, maybe I’m crazy, but I thought that the deal about “online check‐in” was to reduce paperwork and streamline processes.</p> <p>When I fly with Air Canada, all I need to show at the airport is my smartphone, showing a barcode that I received in an email.</p> </div> <p>Spent about 30 minutes or so standing up doing nothing while waiting for the check‐in counters to open. They were scheduled to open two hours before departure; in practice, it took an extra 15–20 minutes for the staff there to stop chatting between themselves and finally allow people to check in.</p> <p>Got all airport bureaucracy done, and headed to the gate. Grabbed a short snack from a bakery on the way there—a cannoli filled with cream, a Sicilian “thing”—meh. Not something I’d kill for. Down to the gate, where nothing interesting seemed to be happening with the exception of two particularly noisy kids that were yelling (not crying; just yelling) all the time with their parents (or guardians, I don’t know and I don’t care) not even trying to attend to them.</p> <p>Time passed slowly, but the flight departed on time. Of course, one of those kids kept on yelling during the entire flight, making a 55 minutes flight feel like 55 hours. Was happy to finally leave the aircraft.</p> <p>Baggage claim: that’s the best place to realize that, at least in Catania (although this is true to Italy in general), the concept of “personal space” doesn’t exist. You stand by the conveyor belt waiting for your luggage so you can grab it and get the hell out of there, but that doesn’t stop someone else to stand right next to you, hardly leaving you any space to breathe. For them, it seems normal; where I live (sorry, folks: as time goes by, I miss Vancouver more and more so I can’t possibly avoid doing comparisons), such behaviour would be considered extremely rude and intrusive.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Have I lost the ability to adjust to new places, new habits, new values? obviously, one of the purposes in doing such a trip is to experience new things, but how willing am I to actually allow such experiences to sink in?</p> <p>The answer seems to head in one direction: not willing in the slightest.</p> </div> <p>Baggage collected. Outside the terminal, a taxi driver wanted too much money to take us to Catania’s central railway station, so we decided to go on a bus instead. €1.00 buys you a one‐way fare from the airport to the central railway station. Took 25 minutes or so for the bus to arrive. Boarded it, and one station later, a group of 5 females—three adults and two kids—boarded as well. The amount of noise this group generated during their 15 minutes presence on the bus was <em>UNBELIEVABLE</em>.</p> <div class="indented"> <p><em>“People demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom of thought which they seldom use.”—Søren Kierkegaard</em></p> </div> <p>The train from Catania’s central railway station to Siracusa was scheduled to depart on 7:08pm, with the next train one hour later. During the bus ride, there were times we thought we were going to miss that train—a rather depressing thought, because all we really wanted was just to get this travel day over and done with. Fortunately, the bus made it to the central railway station on time. Stormed to the platform and found the train, which was just a tad behind the high‐speed trains I got used to, technology‐wise.</p> <p>Two coaches.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKpnHaGvpqwXtQF6txzjB6QNLGXprPs54gAFxgdAKDVwDyVe82jx3r-AgoZjq4kL73LNetgeBkm2bzKFQxOp3IVcBzz7njxZpEZHrqLOXsH6LzCrt5JrSFK7DJQo1xUpo8v44SxTjkKB_/s1600-h/IMG_2143%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_2143" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6xclYi0gnJ_4WAXKW5_3IIJkDYo172EBAU3vrBG45Igc4-iBKHQIHFNbeGHWnlVkP2usv_l1rbBr2JmSrFOFUxMBOyn7L_pgSHZyh1qeN0R9ghx4woN7o25V8oBZlh8jGIYFu4_SzkYZ0/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>One of them had a 1<sup>st</sup> class section!</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1Ep6C28tU84NQtAj9p9x5sEs47lT4NOzlBqu4b_GH6_52Q7MUCUowxMahKjWpYwxuazmmtlIuWYoOJRM5BRANKwpkyNgQX6jEHE8tlZHn_pl4R7rYn0m4PvW9hZ77R-81JGgkEKQfJxv/s1600-h/IMG_2145.jpg"><img title="IMG_2145" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAA5g8KoudXtG71lBjYHpSGr3wOC2LwRYOroOXJvvN2bQ97EDRMA21FMXpSjy9LI2CUAw23FXQkIH0bhPV233lVx0R0bK8t69rDSTYG2SryqtpOESpP6mhSKczm51_qw09eibQ7W4lABrh/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>There was no difference at all between the 1<sup>st</sup> class seats and the 2<sup>nd</sup> class ones.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRz15MpSA99I2xcLUUTlJQQ-Ud0o1jnVO242dL1JNrkOwd4kkDq_r4jCPaeqylVjKlXvYgfNc1eMwuRi3pRdMiQgQjn6nzulvH-OJr4KQMNUdBPUk9CCWFtpLsAIufrogovtoaDztVb99/s1600-h/IMG_20130715_203057.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130715_203057" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130715_203057" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtE7BtvT-2wyAdzZA4wfoJeb8yu2zTIIUsqXL1szblezOfDiby6IKJ1yPX1Tnph_K7AabdhAFOhH2mzSpn1CPAQobce_QxXvVF2S9UxHeqKq8X3dYfkhiMhqFtVenSODmntHr9xSKEzAt3/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrtOphrNDcoD7BJPcWO3HvnEEkeDv3-7JJ8fP97xPXYYkxnty4Z8O5H4jPkm_vv9b6EK5IfUhC83NpbJwdPZCOkws___IKIc4DEkX0xrn8T8lx0Jvlcy5K313nPbRRPlSAKbA1EWSyJL0j/s1600-h/IMG_20130715_203113.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130715_203113" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130715_203113" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyOkSB5knAWDJhN-MZeQRvlZTax5UnPo9y_JSuKznp7Vh6ol-CuuGgk5HIOGx72JBI3lhSgcfxr6-QPK193APLpA7K1-Oh2O3wzEa3lN6Bgl9PWNw0O91HQB0P5hsB9m3168GhDg10UGhp/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>“Great, that’s what I needed”, I thought to myself. “To end this long travel day with a train ride in a train that predates most dinosaurs”. Indeed, the ride was slow and <em>very</em> noisy, but on the other hand, it was scenic. The railway tracks from Catania to Siracusa mostly go along the eastern shoreline of Sicily, so the wonderful Mediterranean Sea was visible for a long part of the ride.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnYHAaseUpUzPtCOBhXhkc_Xjd2yhr6NdADolcMeNQ3AghyphenhyphenFFW4fHeIfCj3BW2clH2jqjw0p52LPDuQHRKPBLFjv045QdYu8Mh0eukI0Xi1nTllOhDg6qY9TMSHH03690vQRS71ajpEDqQ/s1600-h/IMG_2146.jpg"><img title="IMG_2146" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62oPcXfKku7ILdnwjwnU4_YttYg20laBu1LcyMAivnapMWx_XD3AFCp1BKf6SkvpltL58hQ3fYVbmnsix1gUh9AwWQY48SqzPb_gKZuP3_RST9uCFRNGeTiWSBk5zVH2Un8IQzgeX4U6-/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6dZdMA-049orA_C_JSEypQFeDyPedvwTEc2d6fTWedKVcH9VfLf4MzAVyerU6w6OrxC3goR9X1zp1s2zJx4KdU4u0mIU8ysQtarNzzU-6fgg1W_AuN03kyLcals6F6oL8Db-b7RTLVux/s1600-h/IMG_2148.jpg"><img title="IMG_2148" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgir08Q74c0r4k0lTMdlValbNOK8ewzfqbzvSonaKwjB60lXjuDseSDiav2IeA-yRsqaF3NDq-KidLqM07-l5oAfQkcZaP3Rl2JeFlOxJOuChRVkkQ6wTJoYCs0byPrqLjPbctbN5Kvl5A/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha9LGjj4pard4Z_eTKieUWftckJpJFL8ooyTirq1J2h0IsuaT5ISfzSvbNNBC3qzdKjDjEGIZdcKFhWayeTbb46HYegFzB1TJm_s56tHDSS22zIEuUaw5wOsF2aVCtsdfMpvI41PRKsA7F/s1600-h/IMG_2149.jpg"><img title="IMG_2149" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBsi81-LP30_s_sYj_Qkigv7CLBskP7wr3DUs39buQ3WjiY2mCBE7i831wPpq2PcJpNaVh8rRfn4PbtJjIMI6qVrFJK1xVIaafAK1BnR4aG7MF5gZ_Kr-RTzAS66NZne85RtKxR6GDBFRZ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBGLOuD-Y4pofKVot78U01mw4eezpo53aH5I-Gs2eMjb43zOY3bY87PCdew4pc7LUtsNf_VW813_wsrautHyczvfa_cAKoJnQ0tzgIE2EzHkLGZJUTTfqkMiCdxOYkSa0AUmmPGS_DFnuT/s1600-h/IMG_2152.jpg"><img title="IMG_2152" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwdbzdr32-z0CgPLKBc07njKQKHMv92s0M4NtHODFCgYaaTWr-CM5NlMuMCVgOqJr2mGupDxA8uQPkpmYDF5X81k1wm1137cxs0QxaZcpVqK69bTH0PRxLCbb4n0kY_1Z_oyYA7zyATL1e/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8aCZ2t9osXAly6swuT9SNS8zzviIz8b2I6vbK700QY6av-SEoSo9i77oENiEZGmql3Gf65fwusc7IKr8fI5SkeW0KcFCAQtiIVkSiuMk6JWY8rVc_BK7tzc4yANPlTwJ44KTlZB_pJN-X/s1600-h/IMG_2155.jpg"><img title="IMG_2155" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwSCKFecyBaPmFSqTG67LCkbKKjzhDLkuXA4df9PY08UBB3FZK0OZF-OmCV2_uwnRCpFmeYH8suhgGX2d42FV8q-t_J-jKMrU0HkF2s7gMAWAFnyvhf-su9Ilk01vGePn_Wlgf1EP2iNLo/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjat7UKnvFrXCtG5xHFi70OFAF5sUegiUA_PIkea0hSFk4X_1SCSw18W-hAkF-cR4Rgh3HfJVNOp_je3JaAm8ARG__BQwxrqam-jjCoKbxQpRMvG3Xv3MsWsaN7t0Yf2z3mZl0MzUli1c8T/s1600-h/IMG_2158.jpg"><img title="IMG_2158" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajzGggwFn8NbZ8jbxa_M0Mxb3sm4FTt2vyhwILspr7cYY1YcOAe-ie60Gp_KHf9Iy75qzXDQBSNxfineFRDjAi0OpGlrDvZhSZiryfjA7RuhzUjWVN-1B9RM40mtrmWPSljpaFpCb5Dv7/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>At some point, the sun started to set.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5ic_-Fo6i12w8EmnOK3HegpZhvjmy5twTQLotuFDGIZXXFkfGW4CIafMeef92qcbe16BPtrt4vYnO285ZrOaZrB-XYJraM3cL5xFHWdq6haypzWKiqD8VaeGh47RUcaKpIjr2ps6yjw2/s1600-h/IMG_2159.jpg"><img title="IMG_2159" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIv2o5NOGryFBxu4wgy4ZeIeF7o5oV-ZMAazVbuq1YM8t4MtN41bzL7i98dLVu5S9u5MCSaYKpxMmPkwmfmLd7jwZ87kX34170JK-ft0Depx7bOuYSlusc1p_SQq261kj8DdIowkQFk8At/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIEGIlmw29QaRMKZsTTVwDuSWgK5IMP-v1sjPzI3f6pr2mljyXMP55tvcBpOFONH_zF6qqB2Ra4d0fRG2T27e6GPUMVwfKzHMQFw3uXi-RcqNWzD3R044LC2DxyprSuGM8_w2YjUmE1f08/s1600-h/IMG_2162.jpg"><img title="IMG_2162" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZ-NrTi5wGYYDFDryphOBgighswfiLLhyphenhyphenaSeE4S-smKpKLElkuNtysVSDkNgahpTRHyK-VhxRiyyeUs54s8PP4xLvzzhTC5MLHgmTr3Etxe7RGhCEulp3JRKDpnXzJBW5ryfhAKOuh3FX/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>When the train finally arrived in Siracusa, it was already getting dark.</p> <p>I have never heard of Siracusa before planning the itinerary for following the tour. All I cared for, regarding Siracusa, was its location on the map and how well connected it is to the railway network in Sicily. Thus, once I exited the station, I didn’t even bother looking around me. Jeroen already had the map to the hotel showing up on his iFail, so I followed his steps blindly, not caring at all to whatever was around me. It was a long, 15 minutes walk to the hotel; even though it was getting dark, the temperatures were still high and so was the humidity. I was sweating all over and all I wanted was a good shower.</p> <p>Was happy to finally arrive at the hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187891-d1527291-Reviews-Grande_Albergo_Alfeo-Syracuse_Province_of_Syracuse_Sicily.html">Grande Albergo Alfeo</a>. With the old, dusty setting surrounding it, it was actually a pretty nice looking one. Checked in, rushed to the room and set the air conditioner to the lowest temperature it could possibly yield.</p> <p>It didn’t. The room featured very high ceilings, and the air conditioner wasn’t strong enough to cool the room.</p> <p>“The water taste very bad”, said the Dutchman.</p> <p>Nightmare.</p> <p>Hungry. What’s to eat?</p> <p>Where the hell am I? what the <em>hell</em> am I doing in Siracusa?</p> <p>Down to reception, and the receptionist explained that Siracusa’s tap water isn’t very suitable for drinking. The city does employ machines to clean water before it gets to the tap, but the water in Siracusa are so terrible that even those machines can’t do a good‐enough job cleaning them. Advice: don’t drink tap water there.</p> <p>None of us had any motivation to look for a place to eat, so we asked the receptionist, who recommended a place called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187891-d3733724-Reviews-Osteria_AmUni-Syracuse_Province_of_Syracuse_Sicily.html">Osteria AmUnì</a>, a few blocks away from the hotel. Started walking there. It was already dark. Dust, grayness everywhere. Passing by a couple of alleys, a despicable scent of sewer filled my nostrils.</p> <p>Then, I saw the restaurant. Nice setting. A few tables inside, a nice patio outside. Went inside, greeted by staff that could barely speak a word in English. After repeatedly asking to see the menu and not receiving any, we were referred to one of the walls, that had the menu written on it. Of course, the menu was in Italian so it was of no help.</p> <p>The owner of the restaurant, a cool chap by the name Pio, came by. He could barely say a word in English but really tried his best helping us out. Trying to make things simple, he asked just one question: “what type of an appetizer do you want? meat or fish?”.</p> <p>We went for meat.</p> <p>He then proceeded to determine the main courses mostly by himself: all we needed to choose was whether we’d like to have beef, fish or chicken—and Pio took it upon himself to complete the rest of the details.</p> <p>And it was, hands down, <em>the best meal we have had in the entire tour</em>. A large plate containing 12 different appetizers, each one tastes better than the other. I had a couple of small steaks with truffle sauce, the Dutchman had some chicken bits covered with olive oil, spices and some other vegetables—absolute, complete, utter delight. Service was excellent, the food was simple and perfect. The very <em>thought</em> about that meal makes me hungry.</p> <p>That’s why I love Italian food so much. It’s not sophisticated: on the contrary—it is <em>very</em> simple. All you need is just pick the best ingredients, make clever use of oil and a few key spices and you got yourself some delightful food.</p> <p>Pio was very excited to hear that this was the best meal we have had in our entire three months trip (and counting). He was so excited that he rushed into the kitchen and called his cook to come over and hear it directly from us. You should have seen the happiness in these guys’ eyes. So happy they were, that we were treated for another side dish (which was magnificent, but was mostly left untouched. There’s a limit to how much I can eat), as well as a shot of some alcoholic beverage at the end.</p> <p>What a fantastic dining experience. If you ever happen to pass by Siracusa, don’t dare skipping this place.</p> <hr /> <p>As we were consuming ridiculously great food in that restaurant, we started talking about the next day and how horrific it was going to be. Then, as motivation was close to hit rock bottom, an interesting idea came up: how about we forfeit the hotel reservation in Pozzallo (too late to cancel it), and just stay in Taormina instead?</p> <p>It took a couple of minutes to discuss, and eventually, we decided to make our lives much easier. Upon returning to the hotel, the plan was changed <em>once again</em>:</p> <div class="indented"> <p>July 16:</p> <ul> <li>Pick up car in Siracusa. </li> <li>Drive to Taormina. </li> <li>Check into hotel in Taormina. </li> <li>Next morning, around 5:00am, drive south to Pozzallo to catch the ferry. </li> </ul> </div> <p>Could hardly get any easier than that. Hotel booked and motivation kicked in. The next day, then, was going to be a great day.</p> <p>Off to bed, and I realized I can’t sleep in such a hot room. The air conditioner was as useful as an ashtray is on a motorcycle. Took a towel, soaked it in cold water and used it as a blanket. Slept like a baby.</p> <hr /> <p>July 16, Tuesday. Got up, quick breakfast at the hotel including some sour milk. Terrible breakfast selection, much unlike what I got used to in Italy already. Got the luggage, checked out and headed to Siracusa’s harbour, where Hertz’s agency is located.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxjWvXCPuiW4WQT1uXdSig6AfZqZ_f2dMQhhsESKGJoAisE8O4DoLhCqJzVRAUROwCDvB1vhEHDerNCJt9zV7xBf0vfuQ1J5nTO82AtONMOgHbxurx0Vc03MLEGwrFJj3DPg7vkPxuu03o/s1600-h/IMG_2164.jpg"><img title="IMG_2164" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzFUypCBMYJ87lOfsT39EX01QhlnwhcELr9Jv4eSN2ceae_dVuqJmtvxg_W50_YJWA5ns4puS_vAAHfp-La7epc088Oh7r9RgPCWUQdKE27L8pOMfv4c5M83ziwYcnTbNVVnVky6dVL0_/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Signed up for a car: a small red Fiat 500L (you don’t see many Fiat’s in North America; mostly in Europe), manual shift. I can drive manual shift, but really dislike it.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I know that some people prefer manual shift because it helps you “feel the ride”; I don’t subscribe to that. For me, a car is a helper object to help me get from point A to point B safely, quickly and with the least amount of effort involved. Beyond that, a car is just a pile of metal cleverly put together.</p> </div> <p>Of course, the car was parked less than one meter away from the water: an accidental drive forward would mean driving right into the sea. A few attempts to put the car into reverse resulted in the gear shifting to 6<sup>th</sup> instead, until the Dutchman realized that there’s a hinge you need to pull with your finger in order to allow the gear stick to switch to reverse. Good to know, and I’m happy I didn’t drive the car into the sea.</p> <p>Google Maps’ Navigator at hand, and within 10 minutes we were outside of Siracusa, heading towards Taormina: three months into the tour, and yet another transportation method was added to the list of methods used for the tour: a rental car.</p> <p>Now, for some reason, I was expecting Sicily’s roads to be old, narrow and rough to ride. I was shocked to find exactly the opposite: pristine roads in perfect condition. The ride, other than being much easier than expected, was also scenic: many hills along the Mediterranean’s coast, spotted with red roofs and small buildings. Almost no high rises at all.</p> <p>Less than an hour later, took the exit from the highway, paid the toll and entered Taormina’s city limits. I was looking forward to that, not only because I longed for the safety of a roof over my head, but also because I had heard that Taormina is beautiful.</p> <hr /> <p><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taormina">Taormina</a> is not a big city. It’s actually not even a city: it’s a small town. Still, it has been a major tourist destination, and being there, you’d understand why. The town is built upon hills, rolling down into the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ionian_sea">Ionian Sea</a>. Most tourists spend their time in Taormina’s “Village”, which is located on a cliff overlooking the Ionian Sea (we’ll get to that later); in lower altitudes, life seems to be simpler and much more “authentic”: beautiful houses, some of which are really old; streets are narrow and almost completely devoid of sidewalks. The Ionian Sea is visible from pretty much everywhere. It is <em>very</em> pretty.</p> <p>Arrived at the hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187892-d233484-Reviews-Hotel_Villa_Sirina-Taormina_Province_of_Messina_Sicily.html">Hotel Villa Sirina</a>, and was glad to park the car. Got out and took a deep breath of warm Mediterranean air. That’s exactly the same “air” as you get when you take a deep breath along Tel Aviv’s less polluted beaches: in a sense, I missed it. Luggage unloaded and entered the hotel.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEO1CKjHUqneMBBMhvx9rhR9GrkgXA8xORRRzeSI4QCy9w992IxVtxN6Nfvpzyw-gCJV3PkDSwQzhw120dO6wO4bGmy0bCCTn9D2sMq7qgY4dUeaxbYw_oFJmkQJy8x8Hp_8A7aq8KB7Rj/s1600-h/IMG_2165.jpg"><img title="IMG_2165" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRzF7PUnpwBAZ5-Mnkv2Y1-qwPOfojUPqkbw1RyvMlKiHMYCTtqHGBul2LWrgEpdnlX4VIfvXAI93pVIi20ZP6DuYGGJq9ZEOK4CZSjXrVKZO4IxAz483j8AlfnAmJkwpqlONjEo0vysC6/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Checked into the room to find out that the air conditioner wasn’t really working: fan only, no cooling. Tried to do some writing but couldn’t—the heat was terrible. My “towel trick”—wetting a towel with cold water and covering myself with it—didn’t work at all. Down to reception, where I was informed that the cooling is usually off while housemaids are cleaning the rooms (<em>very</em> strange), and that it should be back within an hour.</p> <p>And it was. And Isaac was happy.</p> <p>Hungry, and less stressed over things because <em>I made it to Taormina</em>, it was decided to go grab a bite. Got some instructions from the receptionist and headed outside.</p> <p>A couple of pictures of the hotel…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSKRwIm3COMWS24ZgCj_DspwatDr-uuKB_cQ-eR65Xg_HYYZlmznL_8yPJzTmXl4dmn41FKuuT_5qYYGxfyuLL_OXbOYEfCKxtMrFTPSPZkqvD2iG9-5-ZmZMgfqFaMwHTjdwzerxG6cc/s1600-h/IMG_2166.jpg"><img title="IMG_2166" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSDc5OSB1gYdYgD3tDXzECrRIT_GoTEDgyfjImW46lTibTML_jW0qRIrIep5ZHircXyqQxH3ZW9IBFFFdKGbMs86RGyauHwDB-sjJW7PWCY6WJG8KTqvXs-hOc3iCSra-JrlYphtGDQ3m/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBqS_2uR03tw3y5Eu-Ng9KgTKrMZyyyT-OoPDr6PKZoSOdZV8RrJoSxbfpk-q94MB6_6H3CrlrOMw3rKkenWSegYmS2wqrZuYTIDb0bgC1kR6ClkEblYgloLsS0APj2Soro5GcdI9bhMzl/s1600-h/IMG_2167.jpg"><img title="IMG_2167" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJM6pqpf7nCzBgeTH0D-rhb1aGPOlPXcxWAGtJv28srwgTPVlmUbkocCbOfjd-cbSIDFDjb1QeRFHDoyh0G0Uf0ZI9qy7parZR8s7Vl3GI42wdgtqlCydx7WW2vErEqTs2dNlRi_to2W-/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW_ArDOGm7fuPpKna7Cql__zkEPDzSfHTorYpdEAi-TmamqZZbvwZYIT6UmxNY7VDwtgyOto_WkOVxQhYPc1nQHV3o9G2eKOGUV8R03Mn-avZn_QESd9_gDnuALdk0Mtt5IoauMgfdpwb7/s1600-h/IMG_2170.jpg"><img title="IMG_2170" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGD4kMsXhSjdyUT3WN7oCMN7E0dHy68n-ibYoa2hH1I2uwfwjiqQO-QN4eq-kU9sh-gzVmjWmWXUwYKslefzOJUTmm0gwD4STfiMa-t8rA2I7uGP0QwPIc9SF3F0WJJl68lGAdnSntJ2w/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAmqRZPw7MTgBeKWlc4EqvkGdJzqt2Xcsj1-4YTBiIxJwt9LuaeBIY0ukl9ORZtLN8o0nfyWfnsOvWazgBGvwqE_4UorqNAsLW9w6zaTRhfW9he000GSkpCuG0W5x-6zsp4QGxc8oKTfpJ/s1600-h/IMG_2171.jpg"><img title="IMG_2171" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6UywG-OO87tqPPETBabwIq6nxIMrtLsTPNP1a28AEANtDzP47TLywIMgWo9yITVQX3YpUlK53THjYGZi7sDXiujKsCvpuUDSuwwpbBxza9vEkuzbrlwwifMTs47IfPz4-c6aMhiIoKXX/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhmPnGCxOCOu7DjR_SoCCe8FDLrA6m1Y-09f9TI3uS1gOLjx-vYmWBhyIG0TETy0qjL2_Tzc4fQg6disY_r2uUACyFMOKvZZDFKktU8sqdNT3INqf-nkK-38f41WBEwV1cfPB8XfAG0k7z/s1600-h/PANO_20130716_134648%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130716_134648" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130716_134648" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWRsoAD3-IDwIr49jS0aARiLKacs1Ce6ucX1LDhTED2E2f-9WgkonEu7pFb0ueh49o7dhWCsBORXbQNQb6Y1re2z65bIT-2ummvMgZofOPjvbbRFsZo1rOPac2jWaKRw2_L80-bUeVuOB8/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="279" /></a></p> <p>As we decided to walk and not use the car unless absolutely having to, we were guided to a restaurant down by the sea.</p> <p>The walk down was moderately steep, and almost completely devoid of sidewalks. Here, you’re expected to walk on the side of the road, I guess.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD_3ujQSwzih5EhwRBUJK6OR3OgEql1N6hwgO5OiMoWVF4_GxKLzNRUcxWSEfWpjC-HJ7NMk0zQK1A-LyA0y_6lpzU9lbFwyhfU8BPK0Wl_aTuGLTtduxBq8za6dVY-j-r04ZQN_OxXxrf/s1600-h/IMG_2172.jpg"><img title="IMG_2172" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHei2dlAKIq360-R2ZSLcDjEOZYD7-wDDPs4irhlYIaidn3Co7qk43O5Q754w3Zfe_-VeV_d0BQVcC5AULcdfkwuswjsOipd6F-Ip1NV7ypVkzGPlVGhyphenhyphensok_bUNlwotySIeJ6s0R3TKdu/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1DslYN5L_aUYQ4yHR3F6lRnbmWLYeV0Neg5GJDBDeYl2iUYbDh2mz9xguQnzuFsUxE8SEJ5eNiSMMjAgYqoFHRNF4TL93ut3nGzkccUrf2ErpqbcTlHHE9aahkivxmd5_R8wtLWQBp8kf/s1600-h/PANO_20130716_135311%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130716_135311" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130716_135311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9876eua8m-bZ7m199Sa1x6MHv2p9O46PXg21SRXaT7CRDU4nquP_XbbCSb8le2r4LQW1oSnkJqAuE-8MPKIzVKkRLW65s3LR4px4Ko_2QyGG6cWQnfZGdzGLqQbDys7doZG_IfIZirm9U/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="183" /></a></p> <p>Reached down and there was the Ionian Sea in all of its glory.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizyO1spiGuTbxhwU9624zPvzG4K67PI3PEzyFhmdY8u7MvGpfD2E0ySnk1kME40KvmFmlpeNhhGupK2ARrREhmTZZJbBjadDrf4qOlY8r453by_Kdm2SOvGtkHH2bDU2GeabPx0qQur7tN/s1600-h/IMG_2173.jpg"><img title="IMG_2173" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ul7Yf5Fe4ye4HWy5jmH6Gmps4_r5mfslplPUHd5dyJlKQZdFNc9JWn3RTtjbAnIqSiLt2-gaBVci_Ifir30xaplZkElNIw9c5lVkfwskyyzmNGyFWPwn3vIn6w3_BHNuiOT6Za2yK-58/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81bSefAuYgqrX-3N2FA6Gl7009KYFi8TcvYrtug6F7siGVAzMBOpyqQZ1tmvdntcTJrF5IDL6kNS_YORUDZEiORRvZQKngICz1f1xUU4LwcIfwCqaPSplF_2LTvoh79m1L_Di6lrr5m__/s1600-h/IMG_2174.jpg"><img title="IMG_2174" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik8q2PcfgM9CbU2kWQ9m1EoSNwUc6roqq7CJ6_apMDgoD_vBuYfZazhjPyXRD9zhPn2UmdFYhtbv1x857epMDBSJW6ALgOQycBsBlT33jhhTu-gEs88YLPDoU486hz9CrZX73RnwRMvMgQ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwPQOPKvmEJ6G-vkEGc3QNeu0AFgBA2cOMUm-gOOd1GQg-rNTsClvVVquFWtpwapAhe8QJdRYPueuLUJ45ebSp7fARENXbE26GrXX4d4pmcxnq5c7rlMCVVaaMgpdhskutI_JjH93pLKq/s1600-h/IMG_2175.jpg"><img title="IMG_2175" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDWmKBm9kxicEOcxvBYUyY6oCtMosnjoGuGw_K2UkCW1UblDKxe9ksVEJiwgxlfekLylUl9ue0iOmugFwz4meLQ5ZpOHAi__aLJvRiR2wDDIPmbL1npFN2aNrk561nhgxceHEJ0rQeueS0/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijT03LD4_0QCsjkktFbbWG7VX3L29y5kjpev0FNOByaMKJXoltr2u3lIxaI68Tm8D4E-Ov3olxNb33u4FdPsHqetYcfvab1fXauvKJ5Rqxr4HFc92OcSmHahMaEGhUL-Vnhj1peFrDGxhu/s1600-h/IMG_2176.jpg"><img title="IMG_2176" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5KGIfAbJY8NkLBztBbKCifqkTfaXEF6EWn-Tg4d_UFnKfrAAowN3qA22imrBcIkZzZPu69xjdhcZmtB79BqYwtPOZH6g8msc8WpJ7cqgCM_iF6kUhkdH-ms4cOibOyohaMFVQ8CIe6NNL/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The restaurant we were guided to was closed, so we settled for sitting in a patio, owned by a different restaurant, by the sea.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSEDbJp7pokJKi0MD8Jl_kwSeJ8k3iYuzMgbI2u2-BOyy403-x_ZgP4ZAbSgGRlhN8rmf6qRrqXECjLTfZOj7hQgnDSTZY6ajJfiMf8KfZ0Z8Ku3ROae3DNVA6WLhcI6rWOh3ZqYgcXpv3/s1600-h/IMG_20130716_135728.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130716_135728" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130716_135728" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCoo0YtDJpKVeawku5f7c9jLhdOXCYlpr_CsAw9amUWNy_Pgi5cEytp-dbn8XgcJdGnouWbWJgEWn1UadRjTopNTbxY2lmGeM0bfVXAnYrXz6OOGhto0z1pfQPz6iX5HedHSLvMXsibU8U/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Good home‐made Sicilian food, followed by another short walk along the coast, an ice cream from a nearby gelateria and many, many pictures.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8bnf8ziMx23byWaXkKeiVDex2ccZqTVrzB7WRFw-PcAwt8sTXn2dtkxGp8T6SRRMBC8JYNb5CnEPzxhZpDfQj8avae3nCxkBo6sh8xvEmekXmbOQ2SUSO_K4X4ayFIAYcDdFlE2bWJaVk/s1600-h/IMG_20130716_150236.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130716_150236" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130716_150236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiH_z2N5LsCIqRM-sB3D5GH9WIdrOZwuR6P6Y5c2bpOx9Dbue3v8GccEC3STcXKNJJnu2ySlm53H5i-4WLk4F2ot2p2YzHQuN2B33cvwSNeLtencieW0jWF4TaKfVQNFfC8kw8-u7TwH1r/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEooeFzUBX5HZvXBVpOJpZjh0sOMtNohdcPUlawElYlxu0RzTRkkrFNJ6dXJUbDUbQZpihQgmzjl7AJAJNIVEQlR3-vumZ6CB9u-Kp0E4gUCvxVKqxmD6odq6gG5glC8rp7Fsc_-QZaav2/s1600-h/IMG_2177.jpg"><img title="IMG_2177" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDvzK6GquE-TAxdVUaF6V6vi-Utf37RUvbQeRKUiUwLpXx5GhAyka1Ti5TXendG6Wt08TozQsbFW0kvr2k27UlsMF7lC-xO-AE7Xg59pfi8DZyBYLu-bj-4_THMWxgX2tqcqqvyy_PCNyP/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSBboiUg0bRaJF8y0r1ZdBOiWlymU-bZji9iY494VmWytSOaz-TzRZkUBw-KQRduf9aNfucBv3TVa5cqOH_8tPUWsRfM7i54__vGtsP2vGA8mGAiXBlMQkZkXQRPtMoseguq-3MmUwHgy/s1600-h/PANO_20130716_150839%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130716_150839" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130716_150839" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Q5bGU1M311u2euZhEg-_udWtVueaGAvwKhKIF7e-mLNOezyjfK5RxJMdBsR73_YDXA38Rz2u7M0v7c2MzC3HZ1Hcp8GKpqlC1clE4EczxTY5GEukyk_qFYee1j4TRbz1Q-jh5fUJ2Hr6/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="162" /></a></p> <p>Back to the hotel, now in an incline, beneath a scorching sun.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX-OytBG_V7ektudT0doHQFvSDxMOtaB1BqnYUtwIWt6PP5YRvT7Mi3J_O2625XtJVjcn2Bl7KaAGjf_m74KZ6EDoru856w2UKw0jcqc6kcPdz75oXWCUHFUzMXy5k5qkKGEotySvIIZR8/s1600-h/IMG_2178.jpg"><img title="IMG_2178" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLkuyrdBAKfLjMuT3AvtAgmGkucGUSsWSIBiNhp09mC2jsfvAM5Z58qObAov3SHal2JB-8gQGQ1vbtSrWwM6DwSwOOBPZ58KaTD-_Rex80Ag9ePRLx40pNMmEYdb5PCDqk5c8Z44MvUCmL/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Remember what I wrote earlier about “no sidewalks”?</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_GSMY5A8B5SXEix7HZWN3qcoJMS4UibQGs4t7REV8D_e_itc6jYGlfvopEdB23GtkSL7edoK10PklF6mkJu3Fi9C_7gCu_x_b8qBJQ5WKgSA9lDyFHU8z-5YO-7Cp_38AzCcCr5xntyC9/s1600-h/IMG_20130716_151343.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130716_151343" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130716_151343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eocUv324mVlhRSyPxUJ4F4VL4_Slah0JH9PApBlBFtzkMK1nGetvvqkMh9JIjyHoe56z-iNznZYb613Fn45TY864FWRi3QIaUTnjJkYuGsBtF_fyV5IY8v_PYOYAJZgLapSHg9keKwqN/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Arrived to the hotel, sweaty as nobody should be allowed to be. Heat makes you tired, so I decided to go for a nap.</p> <hr /> <p>The concert was supposed to start at 9:30pm. The venue, however, was some 2.5km away from the hotel, including a significant elevation gain. We didn’t want to take the car because we didn’t want to mess around with parking at the area (none of us has been here before, and we didn’t want to take any risks), so the only other viable option was to walk up. Knowing it might take a while, and wanting to leave some time to take some pictures of the venue (which, I was told, was magnificent), we left the hotel quite early—not before taking a few shots from the room’s balcony.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfXXMAljHLyCyahydnQT1ebMHA2rC75TNsGpQfQKBbEIfxuPM5oGvFMZbIwhWVwWzKKICyCA-ve2eHzt6oN2HJjXwnDKFuXsG0sd_yCQMOdc649Fgt7iogjk1zZ-DTQoWGMWIg-UMQYYqA/s1600-h/IMG_2182.jpg"><img title="IMG_2182" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitNB5m2kV2GOkjX51dSc5PNd5YoL-ZA5ey0qI6UWE18h-_WvJmUZvesToUeyzdotkGQa2AOQWAd2uWouelYAqGEm_9SoWhMUiaQTe2GDJNTskSwU8SERbcMDiAeuV0gwXFmUfgE83Lleqd/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>When searching for walking directions in <em>Google Maps</em> (at least on Android phones), you also get a graph showing your elevation as you go. A quick peak revealed that the walk is going to be <em>very</em> steep. We really didn’t know what to expect: we were expecting to walk 2.5km, and then arrive at some venue.</p> <p>We were wrong.</p> <p>The walk indeed started very steep, providing excellent views over the Ionian Sea:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXUP96FWeB6DpUbIOgMzJmh8Peqetb0xU_bGMcE6XR5KLJt73nEJppaO5ov4Ntz8lsEugzaM9SY0i5L9A99nWZih26hHx74hEcVurLT5IYTETwb2xmaXqC6Avxw-4X4WiUizGp3EUv2A8r/s1600-h/PANO_20130716_203138%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130716_203138" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130716_203138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpDGFwPci7T_5k8ARjgG-Roo2EAIwnBJL4SQ6O5ORPNpkCnJwamR9vcCjolUyIgkEAGXGuba8tSvftDc7aPjBIO_xHO5KIsgLcRz005K4GBwQPq3H7pdYWiE-chxMDYxMLSEwXPEBWdxpd/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="221" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAfdM4tRqNwMK1uuKR3Jb6ETIA8WomtrfDBqpO8J544EKGir3YUqvUVdBooVTa8ia-8_tnVADNTTXPSQFov0Uqn3kOtqaAm2PRfq9jNMEEUNNKDHAEnLNEBHyDVUnf2xAtLhWEJqNqwLW/s1600-h/P1050965.jpg"><img title="P1050965" style="display: inline" alt="P1050965" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVFknIQznZs4HnWr0kW_dy1RMuSj9osu26Pv7zVIV5b9VgzcdL_4kSVZTuDKz6q2eMO6L7-lrc6CZObj12M_ywStaB2giyxKwgRJNjeMo4KygkIPiKFwuuXnPE0rzEq7tmcdDeIZJKCf3/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXPZ9q1-zd9ELWg2meYAU615TRTtUG7S2Wq8plg2IQrUeatCxzWWq1zX1rFcdLGFt2Bwt9He8mo3ltOfFH1hyLX48cPJiKdmXSK4JeoFqvXMe6GP3ODGkg9da2FbHxQFOZ1jhEhl-4JkL/s1600-h/P1050966.jpg"><img title="P1050966" style="display: inline" alt="P1050966" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3ybwBvJwyjbuaB3ec_5Rl0GT2HaL_Jub2N5t4TdYd0HZ_-q5y310QQY9q-huOMMItotreTTCd5sYKkCsYNGW6-3PKjvzXFyWI7AhLyZUgRpiOLpTkg5J0bj9AlK8Fh2gO4AzAJGijNoX/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_S6ZX4RtSn43CbVilqNR-KqMTRRDD9yRUuDkdpIoaWYVxqJKur_bHk1n0UQcxiRSF9sehFYB-VIrZWIvVTCkSb2Sh44vSAFdgB79PLi-nMhHT38wZ0AWAkFvsNlXiCyCowZAfCHcjf4Ek/s1600-h/IMG_2183.jpg"><img title="IMG_2183" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhER-mle6zmc85h5UuvwyCxv9Aqfy0cSR2XARbGpL2EKuWb8fTo8ZMj4PZGuuEYjuBFVkB02bBN8kHsiPaZ8hmPCtO0rHveNppOIMGW7pSLbt7r-gg8rzZceIvVBiVc7-bHxk-2Q1BZ6fFI/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyO9MKzMo_QxrEQcIBHYADg3qD9k-WkWsIfsypkVua4zxLc1Au0G8strNk1JCH-wnDKK3fuygP0OPlXOBwiM7SxFXAimPr_XfV3OM_SxeGkjdRiqGN0Ezh1C4meiKe7pdGBVClKUgPZxvT/s1600-h/IMG_2184.jpg"><img title="IMG_2184" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLSJ9_4cRs9_YoHsihfrM3aCpHB3z6Mn5qqZ5LwXTBT_ddamoOnJ6-weKytMJYI6Ovlh2p5ycMHJnxFrTp0teOwTXjPpjlxXaDjgSiezdDvfcNM4Xh29p7b4XytSe9h_5gZf0v3pWOH9fU/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLzBNkbXUyYA5vqzJLc49uU-UJXKaTRQi51NgWriiaIscsjWjbUH4pA-2E5IT8KB2STyfyumO5St2AuxD6xGYD2QRkfWm8cTapH2R53qJOjpusD5tmXEnw-UsUcHy8QyAmfcrcntNR4EcY/s1600-h/P1050967.jpg"><img title="P1050967" style="display: inline" alt="P1050967" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbb2rmQ6Y-1Tj1gu3cweRJ3SMryH_x6yujfju7y3YKEfm395LKQkZtVlO4A_JjwrnpaOwAb1ARXQhc19T8rXSCHNDDobOonC-DsIrfWV0xsEosK5ftM4-x2lrX2n6C6Tx_IDYYFVPBNyDs/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A short while afterwards, a very narrow walkway forked off the road. Only scooters and pedestrians could use that walkway. Suddenly, we arrived at at intersection that appeared busy.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fEWI4jB5iyF7vUwlUde1D3hTYx8vgfnsSt726o0JQ_z2qHq0J79yZxI5kBDgIKEUY7GU34UEtzYNs4s6R08vAFubbfyLx-lzm_IbMOUtcYDr-RoHdcvRytQ4C68fbYk1ubZV4X62Guwy/s1600-h/P1050968.jpg"><img title="P1050968" style="display: inline" alt="P1050968" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOr7nU5WyzNTW9qcgIcdyUI2CYaJ_-70wrJCK4BLnd_UIKo0Yzs6xcOXzOWmo94v4LYEJmpuAMq_4f2sTJnks6JCpUiumenSjXO3msza9q24IY7uXiH_S0bUKCsoqITGmqnUfQ__dke8lC/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Nearby, a police officer was directing traffic. Behind him, there was a huge building serving as a parking garage, about 7–8 stories high.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRrIkmX8B0AwYL1Jrvmp62HcNrscgInuOY48prWldDavaY-vUu58OWJY-L1GQPHyrplg-1KIt9Gs7UIgAM8drGvxT6B8ElLdvL6MNdHY6W9VsQPhEvUQptBkWwVsDnBp950aHCpLq7damx/s1600-h/P1050969.jpg"><img title="P1050969" style="display: inline" alt="P1050969" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUMj49fwZ_LvqOxS17ykuMuIHD1LgDd3tY_micOolX3q0ZRuluV1mx3t5m5xkdo1pR6HO1GCOhu4CNGudeAqiNo9Os8v7CrXM976dBMGc5DG5QOem45xm9z4BFa66LZzLTCfF0Ptx04dS/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>(The last picture in the group above comes to show what the walk was like: essentially, walking on a road, with no sidewalks. Was interesting to see that they still bother painting crosswalks there.)</p> <p>Despite <em>Google Maps</em>’ instructions, I decided to ask the police officer whether there’s a shortcut to get ourselves up the cliff as it was obvious that that’s where we should be going. Fortunately, there <em>was</em> a shortcut: simply enter the parking garage, look for the lift and get to the 7<sup>th</sup> floor. Saved quite a bit of time, sweat and blood.</p> <p>Leaving the elevator and stepping out…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqFmbD7xwQmYx46W9Wu7qqu8sGCfPX0tSF9JWw0dJEIrbyTL59ZyCgkqb2CLx_LNjtnQYajZYdaKXEyFVzhbhDdThpSDYmdJNrj_rEqYyIabMHX9BYNOtZkaR5Rd3QF3kYEptIgodCdp8/s1600-h/P1050970.jpg"><img title="P1050970" style="display: inline" alt="P1050970" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5t6qbFiuQWfEUzIkIbiZVb36aKj02JbR4emHnoeLmsIvG2-RKx2FXbFJerS77LeuD4uXiSHD6wQgF3w6CQOeSU4cqtD_ev5DhfO112fdo5hWmjLfoeMuTgYW7OA6byeOYshF9yZ1JzXBr/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… it felt like a completely different world. As I was expecting to be walking along a deserted walkway and eventually arrive at a venue, I found myself right at the beginning of Taormina’s Village: full of tourists and, just as it was full of tourists, it was absolutely, unequivocally, ridiculously pretty. Being there, walking the narrow streets, you could see why Taormina attracts so many tourists: this is tourists’ paradise. Of course, it looked a little overdone, but you could still sense history. Beautiful, romantic place.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibtDmg2rJ3UnNnpFyZNkVHAOzR7jb07icaqbf_uXDH83EFfdiKGRChUOWAspuHlsAUBw9QYmC6MihIhsI66qOAkwAc1HxX_yFdJnnzPNM9JTNiYI9KDX8tSlcUislJczgDTn4UUBx8NMM6/s1600-h/P1050973.jpg"><img title="P1050973" style="display: inline" alt="P1050973" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8Er8Irns90SIFXWO3oeTzVvQWU50_bZiCSCD3s0nnGl8ryVrfwms-xTEvrvwqdwBOhSZzP_Fu2Cd2_xPBf7YBJb0kX8msnh3G0G2z8uj0V4fPfEXzIqQN9vxgsAplqQYRySk3HicvVWp/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRWHfXwJJYD5uFgodz3AvXZ_I94YXlgvVth0EJeMUBy9GO1jCTpD1ChQYLGkTV4Bt6RrJXd82UltDnAmrQH7YhHjOLREwL2BlbRMgGzkxxAgZ22FLFIOYtSnnm5mgTWI-KvMU8LNUCmaWc/s1600-h/P1050974.jpg"><img title="P1050974" style="display: inline" alt="P1050974" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwSbiW-gAsLEnTEYXw0CIBcGofPzUnJt-UZ6o1-FY7FvZSX3Rx18j3FXzeeqBmH9fHbzhgF-w8CCHV0aaN9fU8mJxANrXuUYSAiUiRfKat4j2NqEPFT5cSAAmnJlsRO36UTvjWgy-3chPK/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXpB0Iwdfps6CaBOLEsX01X_3s9t4ujx3iqnOErkONUOt3LT0TnIHx9YcqF95aT6F6sbryCcfiHOHHkua8SO6QShSO5j7ER_3aeB2yXnG-mV4reYCZBOFSv-daMobzna4prD2ScuWuFDgC/s1600-h/P1050976.jpg"><img title="P1050976" style="display: inline" alt="P1050976" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTgGqTl8EpDL4Z7t5tKgFxfdI4tsAQkzBE1JzUFZanTDui-YZeyDIfF5M-IB2WDlXnyJOgc6YA0Mh5R41Ig7ZMXnMlghka5i3CiHii2fM0lx_eConTLfMvhbM2TV5-WfQMCWVRZFLcWty/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiwUuenzmcUIbTh72gmUOQDpjo8Ihm4GIaJYA3m7BeOwdhDh_N6dSc7rt5heB1dxt-0AZPRvA9H0YPsCjwHLaMI_BtpQZDbAjiiWPYxDZNh-dxhx5g2gYopH416SkkM9EftkejFj16Zzt3/s1600-h/P1050977.jpg"><img title="P1050977" style="display: inline" alt="P1050977" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbuZ5IXKLjD9ye4kvtfaudD5gWRTVfz3_vXB5Ng7wVLmmhbMgF2aMZEbd6k93m6eKBWxJ_Jo7nLBjNLLe-MNrqYoseWM6z7exm1uRoKznbU3Ov0Hfmz6ksvHdxIT-8VGpKK9zRsuJgHBG/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Taormina’s Village is located high up on a cliff overlooking the Ionian Sea. Many opportunities for landscape pictures.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadSXdOIBIYhJXPnB16FbFCZ3AunJm9u1BufMS9FNj8JGM81XbVSXHixd4kMk9UYIXcUavs7GW15q_gnT0P_NfBzT6tnZL0QWjNEiKLrIoZG2pSPu2S2FIB9tSKkM_Q2nvKfLSFOd8deoL/s1600-h/P1050979%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050979" style="display: inline" alt="P1050979" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjISmMBZM4K7Ob27zKCo8iHslBNW1MsFRsBFgejIJ3w0XutGqkNHrJBJETZR9W3QF1lM7UrOoAAozHLiIsLQWXRAS_vqTwHC9dcf5U-Mrv_SXO0MEf3QUWuVHdv4XtqX3rbGm90hEy8ILnI/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>Decided to head to the ticket booth to grab the tickets. Italian efficiency at its best: three people working in the counter. On the left, two women doing nothing. On the right, one man on the phone serving about 4 people at once. Approached the women and informed them that we’re collecting <em>markknopfler.com</em> tickets. They had no idea what we were talking about and referred us to the man standing nearby, still on the phone. Waited there for five minutes until he finished talking and taking care of people in front of us in line. Finally, my turn. I showed my ID, looked for an envelope—couldn’t find it. Asked how we got the tickets, I answered that these are fan club tickets.</p> <p>“Oh, fan club!”, he called, <em>referring us back to the two idle women</em>, telling them “pre‐sale, pre‐sale”. “Oh, pre‐sale”, they called back. <em>Now</em> they were actually willing to do something.</p> <p>Got the tickets and headed to the venue, some 200m away along a narrow walkway full of tourists and lined up with many gelaterias and other booths. Arrived at the venue, entered and knew right there and then: this is the most beautiful outdoors venue I have yet to set foot in, in Europe.</p> <hr /> <p>The venue, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ancient_theatre_of_Taormina">Teatrico Antico di Taormina</a> (“Ancient Theatre of Taormina”), is an ancient Greek theatre, dating back to the 7<sup>th</sup> century BC. Not only it is well‐preserved, to the point that you feel history being injected directly into your brain, it is also situated in such a location that, when sitting in the arena, you see the Ionian Sea and the rolling hills of Taormina right behind the ruins.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFR2Mhp6rMTPUp4U5GnMM7kXJLREMVZUauhavsEIvFhFwUXLWJdbnhh6XkVwtP00RtEJufuDlti-PnXOQGXOr4Uwk5usJwHN9FTSCtOst_G8AgwUElKGPXq7AZWlTYu2W9NLlWPV01rjzI/s1600-h/P1050983.jpg"><img title="P1050983" style="display: inline" alt="P1050983" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4y7GLN6BXaOgn2mbCJayDtpYgk8DBc_ejn4txVs4b1q0NRB5OBdpPBfkPUpNtL8IGcURlio_AQj8shJeUcVXMtZPw4E6WyFCb5iN1OSlw8ACs8aVnIVJQ7piv8rWb4LpdLJ-9j6BRoAT/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_U7NJ2gK2l9nNAdgHAI00rlYF7OFOrig1_o0ZFGgKg7lwsflF97HIppAYG7-XswYsHy3TC_zXSzScVAJlJVTqHxy6THf5FRaWujWQThLgc6BH4N6fOtD6hbHk7da8A9caOaAIPpokY6V-/s1600-h/P1050984.jpg"><img title="P1050984" style="display: inline" alt="P1050984" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3jhoczdobalemx_o5FjpDoR8dloqZ4oDvOYNFv_N9JUl81J4Up269rpYs40hIvukg_fNPotqIcpDNUx6NEjpMvfeELp7HoFRl5kddzl-9P681dUTamPnUutOBwar5BZzTDvoIlTi2nvjZ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Our seats were in the second row, but looking at the venue, it was decided to forfeit these seats and look for alternative seats higher up. Watching a concert in this venue from the front rows is, in my opinion, a completely wasted opportunity. Quickly found my way up, where I discovered a series of unoccupied seats, almost at the center.</p> <p>What a stunning setting.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb29PH6hu1n9-D20w2cupe2RSbIExWs1PzkHrfiIWnJxO1bc0qbk732x6eJqGNmbt-ZNoPDO048d9FuwTAiJwcYcozoLJiI_nW4ExLyrKgI6PQcb1FWuExyyzzq05WtA_-9Knqb40p_Gl0/s1600-h/P1050988.jpg"><img title="P1050988" style="display: inline" alt="P1050988" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7y6r_c61mL0k7rVHPq8CwHjLUUwQGCBV3KyKdfOq8QeKP4au_3FV_ldisrTNJZo41vZP51XJNN4DnObvCdQUuXS37JwItvbSe7FuqTo_lF3VWCWzxWnZGkHcF_6JDaxg1Nmcsw6UyPIg/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV_vizFXnGl35PKneyfeP_TnlpAYmiXjfijKklFhhFeokP1dmL1O5_Jub5DG9oqYJrzCdL4kevSqSBSZIreA1jazVhnVIFKSQhe-LXmBsS5x1IqMRt7PiUzG6azohjpAg6CbW4wbTvntBP/s1600-h/P1050989.jpg"><img title="P1050989" style="display: inline" alt="P1050989" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlqDY0kQbCAHqsSsE1YQDm8yGTXIpLf5unJ21Glrl3-6suiT5l-hMkHMSyErj_EKM89g5nAdoSCaHD8rf_OXsNk6CpLox9ZIIIB8JvxDcgFVqUljADYVGHzANB6PQUybwtLUUBjwQD8Yo/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzuWasoD6ArFk2HqgeVOD9dA_zsSAqGcBjDLB9uTN_7e_Wq0Lf5_yxsuprFfI1Wk4gXeQWBDxPOwePRvUjtAJwGsWvagJKvYCwu8vXln6xw80TrnrDYM2SNZzR3zYs5xCPBcOrq2FioijR/s1600-h/P1050987%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050987" style="display: inline" alt="P1050987" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1MiavRegItvIlMAs3I-04Q21eLDioRasr2n5jc4gUi5fG9vriue8QObFFh21AJG-n5CCaL3KPYa9WnHm4hTxivceQPtgQ_BCH5RVnS8yQVTnNdhcxrG0GJHk6-x5mnspX0LH5IdTzsd1a/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>The venue felt very intimate. The stage was low, virtually no gap between the front rows and the stage. The stage had to be adjusted to the venue’s peculiar format: no overhead lights, very “thinned‐down” arrangement. That, together with the breathtaking scenery just behind the ruins, were enough to determine: this was going to be the best concert experience in the tour, regardless of the actual performance. I just can’t imagine a more profound, exciting concert experience: perfect temperature, cool breeze, astonishing scenery and a very special arrangement of the stage.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8e9cJ9_WAUM7ixEZJQBoMTHLic_dpECFlDHdUwekYDumAIj_SE_QA3jrsbpaK_t8Wy4o8Wwo-2uMwc8ajF0C4wQtSqYlSrX8vKah1xFsf_VxL9ZtWbY7GPe4lXhAWzIdkWdxZMjLeTwZ1/s1600-h/P1050993%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050993" style="display: inline" alt="P1050993" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYqq9s1uV2TQ3TR4zk4RKPtH8I3LTzjf0o83ms2_Cd2aFrSAwnOuHDNS0U_68MOUI7bhhYDPAoEUWxl4dN2EoJ91ixxX7lnU1FMsK9qxQdODGNvoan1W9jqPjE0tOgJ1iIkDJQRMTrGZV-/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>The concert itself was very good, and featured a surprisingly long set, comparing to the last few concerts.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbrWUAXzl-gbBxc6C-UP8pSNgiBBs9aUOeiOLUmXISqDPsiThjNzpb4e_ByWl7gIaVXk0TDhENm0gSE496_ErJQsKlWvfZSLeTvll6CaSX6wybAlhu5rEGdRLfmANnhlQxzOoMzQUASWfp/s1600-h/IMG_2211.jpg"><img title="IMG_2211" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcV1WvDcWaoeYg_ol6YIDuJ2zQxC01cQreWS-Tdl8rt4rONegoaDiHiqdTH98nExjVXBowfm9XGENHhZQ-bKMqEFH8P8D1gEZ0iXRfy7YmgUhiuEO4ow2Tzeg7ohW1Q0fWpdvdg1nBW-r3/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4M0dPpL-bOCnnNVCxowi0kWXU3w5eWpNVCoM9uclhxMLiooHVxctjFXNicvipAzS3svAs4o7rBBxyfQ2PPbA2RpbJgtoxvop9vU3WJPKVMY6V1Wr6uW9HlQ6IS9cO1HGj6lGlTepn3DkC/s1600-h/IMG_2214.jpg"><img title="IMG_2214" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMlJsAQBZ9OPKxOnHgzuIYd4xYWb5a8YW7-fqXXdFdfXZPRFMzPz8iFwBUM9rvKxDHs6C-ZeVYGpObcVUUcnefN4Me8fMTl58EnPV6_hddsIH6O7hP2XWOuAooqVwrPymiJnPImdG2sdZL/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPf2unTPgMYioDw1uQCFiYe4fwAvjFyAbiARwOxseOD8EBR9VaY4TRwxlLF9BjyMqbCom8OqCkxYEGwrw_G-7h6IeAsBPcmNv617zxaCpjSRhtv-0iE0IyJItOQI110DC55xFcO4RWqYiS/s1600-h/IMG_2215.jpg"><img title="IMG_2215" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1JdKzIl65ztLQteZJgkosx1bDhNkL865LsyHaYlWruwGylbKg5F-yWiP6aOgFwJ7rrgnfWz2-YAR-L7BjKR6c0vGPnUuhMMvJ3o53zPgFRxNjpreQJBDIS6ToGQC9wMctAytrwGSsKOgh/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvO2iLMVBTvbzIvTXs9wsG17i2RAn6bfUXvpLcDqz3sUvXc5GpHWa0KSIz3h2GxiDbVp1UHp_B48m6R951kqIJiJskUN_opD3aNbueEmJWBFlOAI8aVzvIdaWAYMWsIycetIUC22cRMhO3/s1600-h/IMG_2216.jpg"><img title="IMG_2216" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2_AySakKFjag5tp3M70Oa1Aicgz9lF9FJwJdg4TnEdx_WQwSAFiyhXoezZsU2G46Inmea9ElngtUBz0P0Zu-a37Y2HxazjzYSFuWpbRShcDd-Mo3a-hAMSntCbg0wT3bXFlPPKRmFOtd/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>Sultans of Swing</em> made a comeback to the set, sending the audience to the sky, and prompting one of the police officers on site to film the performance.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ32IWuwkkjFwA1TNCj8tYRJzH_vUz5M2wDRC5z1QKNOKeAbyRhuurrhzqLACxaEBBbcKnvmqa0u25_d-rHNYZ5PsPlICiCCemZRIkwuMOdPUjx_kkLjHOob7xQioaZrL57SuEhVAKFBsN/s1600-h/IMG_2217.jpg"><img title="IMG_2217" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifk0j-qHH_fcLZjxT9ii78ap8SSh-ELW7DFh-XSU5biUW9yPp5nLw3LK6mgma_ueC0Jc-wAj36NkwyKuK4OJHt6BhKWBzS5crzFoFctOhEQwtkEFUXc_HUmYDUqWoYsczeL18VC-9y8orH/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Good concert, well‐received by the audience.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMHAZGuteeFpJo65mNF_Ymu2ZZ5FUKpgS7uRFSZFW46UlIKkhw1WPHJWeD3CWXCW-TnyE00muoFoQ4DqssAe6D9HvvPdf5lsL-Wrv4Pe1Ne9aXPCOexrXkAaZKnp_DBbaYMTxfkmP-tTDb/s1600-h/IMG_2261.jpg"><img title="IMG_2261" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF0TCOHBPFzWKux2GyUi6bpbSqGb2WviDTMgThIRZ_mZkGSfDN1mKiFIOwSVyrF5ehmePErjsq_RDAiYsLt7ypsQqmDyr52x5ppzwOStao8eMH3MDBBVEkRJEUrOa-W493VZZpOhake7wg/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As the concert ended, it took forever to leave the venue due to the narrow exits. Before heading to the hotel, stopped by a local booth and got a few snacks: the next day was going to be very busy, and it wasn’t clear when we were going to have breakfast, if at all.</p> <p>One last photograph before leaving the wonderful Taormina Village…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdMnos1B6BsP5FqvIOT_623ZnEzK94mGeE9kdXcb7y56yv-3kr7tmgVk0yQpKAxIuUN57kp9a0G333V-00xoSxNNgCp3Uq8FdaI-xmCebL-VJknvZxW3EzZcb109IpgcDSMXjyMB7vw6z/s1600-h/P1060003%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1060003" style="display: inline" alt="P1060003" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQlA6qBNh8in1udNfBP27WOx9KpHIa7G50NNc1k0AwNRU9dlxclI7HvehRJsUTHw0IBt6Z9xCPCIvu0gERiFMnHtUF6oArh-ONFQYuTwbCuob93H2ogBUPI_3XxLoj0ewCDssJaIocgPTW/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>… and a quick walk back to the hotel. The walk wasn’t quick because we were rushing anywhere; rather, it was quick because it <em>had</em> to be quick. The path was downhill, and so steep that it was very hard to maintain slow pace. It was also very dark at times, which is when the Dutchman’s iFail proved useful (using the camera’s flash as a flashlight).</p> <p>Twenty minutes later we arrived at the hotel, set the alarm clocks for 4:30am and off for a good (but short) night sleep.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from a cafe in Malta. In a couple of hours, will head to the airport to catch a flight to Pisa, then Lucca tomorrow.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-86280715429442201472013-07-16T11:19:00.001-07:002013-09-10T08:27:55.671-07:00Rome to Napoli, Italy (July 14, 2013)<p>After a very busy day in Rome—including noisy train rides, some sightseeing, and immense mental battle to keep my sanity in check while waiting for the bus heading to Rome’s city center after the concert—the compensation came in the form of a very easy travel day: depart Rome 10:40am, arrive Napoli 11:50am. One hour, one train. Brilliant.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Mark, here’s a small request for your next tour: more easy travel days such as this one. Thank you.</p> </div> <p>Woke up late, easy breakfast at the hotel and headed to the nearest metro station. Sunday morning, and the streets of Rome’s city center were as empty as they can possibly get: still moderately full with people. Weather was warm, but still too early to be a scorcher.</p> <p>Feeling upbeat for the upcoming easy travel day, entered the <em>Spagna</em> metro station and headed to the ticketing machine (the day pass purchased a day before was only good till midnight).</p> <p>Two single tickets… €3.00… no problem. The entire transaction was done in under 25 seconds.</p> <p>That is, the entire transactions except for the part where tickets are actually printed. Checked once, twice, thrice… nothing. What do you do in such a case? of course: you turn to on‐site staff for assistance. Piece of cake.</p> <p>Approached the staffed ticketing office. Jeroen did the talking, explaining to the attendant what had happened.</p> <p>She didn’t immediately respond. Instead, she took out a piece of paper, wrote a number on it, handed it to the puzzled Dutchman and instructed him to call that number to complain.</p> <p>At that moment, I already realized what was going to happen. I already knew that there was no chance in hell we will ever get those three Euros back. Turned to the Dutchman, and told him that there really is no hope—lets try another method, maybe a different machine.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I grew up in Israel, and Israelis are very similar to Italians in many behavioural aspects. I know what it is like facing authorities in a highly bureaucratic environment; I know how to detect when nobody is going to help me with anything. While not being the primary reason, the Israeli mentality of being harsh to each other was one of the reasons I left Israel for Canada to begin with: I was tired of a society where people care less and less about others as time goes by.</p> <p>The Dutchman, however, grew up in The Netherlands. Much like in Canada, in The Netherlands, people in general want to be helpful. Chances are higher for a service provider to walk an extra mile for you in The Netherlands or in Canada, than, say, in Italy.</p> <p>As such, the Dutchman <em>really believed</em> that he could somehow demonstrate to that rude lady that he was right and she was wrong.</p> <p>I therefore opted at standing aside and watching the dialogue evolve.</p> </div> <p>Two more minutes of an increasingly heating dialogue didn’t help at all. The Dutchman kept being more and more amazed at the immense rudeness and unwillingness to help exhibited by the tantalizingly stupid attendant, and the latter kept demanding that worrying about issues like this is not her job, and “call this number”. Eventually, she simply said “I am not helping you” and gestured with her hand that we should step aside.</p> <p>None of the aforementioned was surprising to me; yet, it was fun watching the Dutchman reveal the multiple layers of stupidity, ignorance and rudeness from the attendant. At the end, he muttered an expression involving the F‐word and walked away.</p> <p>Time was pressing, so I decided to head back to the ticketing machines and try another one. Tried to issue one ticket first (so if the machine is broken, we waste less money)—done. Second ticket printed too. Good.</p> <p>Heading to the platform, we came across another attendant. Jeroen told him that, at the least, they should be putting an “out of order” sign on that machine so people won’t continue wasting money on it; alas, the attendant wasn’t much inclined to help either. In the meantime, more and more people were using the broken machine, losing money to Rome’s metro station.</p> <p>Three stops, and back in Rome’s central station, <em>Roma Termini</em>. Easy train ride to Napoli, except for a mature man sitting behind me and constantly talking on the phone, with a very heavy Italian voice. Every sentence he said sounded as if it was taken out of <em>The Godfather</em>. I spent a few minutes listening to his voice and imagining Don Corleone speaking. It was very amusing, and once it was done being amusing, it started becoming annoying.</p> <p>Fortunately, it was a short ride until the train arrived in Napoli’s central railway station, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Napoli_Centrale_railway_station">Napoli Centrale</a>.</p> <hr /> <p>I knew very little of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naples">Napoli</a> (in English: <em>Naples</em>. Why? beats me) before coming here. I knew that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diego_Maradona">Diego Maradona</a> played for Napoli’s soccer team back in the times when he wasn’t doing drugs (at least not publicly) and I actually cared for soccer at all; I was also informed that food in Napoli is very good. All and all, I didn’t quite know what to expect.</p> <p>What I encountered was a very different experience than what I had experienced in the northern parts of Italy.</p> <p>It started at the central railway station. There, you could already feel that Napoli lives somewhere in the distant past. You could see it on people’s faces, too: to me, people seemed tired and unmotivated. Old infrastructure—older than what you’d expect in the third largest municipality in Italy (after Rome and Milano).</p> <p>Figured out that we need to take the metro. Down to the platform, expecting to find ticket selling machines there. None. Instead, we found small machines into which you should be inserting some ticket for it to be stamped. OK, that means that you need to buy the ticket <em>somewhere</em>. But where?</p> <p>Backtracked to the main level, and started looking for information. A lady working on site asked what it was that we were looking for. “Metro tickets”, we said. “Tabacchi, Tabacchi”, she replied.</p> <p>I already knew what it meant.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>OK, so here’s a very useful tip for tourists in Italy. “Tabacchi” means “tobacco shop”. In tobacco shops, you buy cigarettes so you can smoke and kill yourself faster (except for Ingrid. I don’t think there’s a cigarette on this planet strong enough to harm this superwoman); BUT—you also buy other useful things there. One of these things is metro tickets and bus tickets.</p> <p>Public transport ticketing works differently in different municipalities in Italy. Sometimes, you can buy public transport tickets at the station itself from machines or manned booths; and sometimes you buy those tickets from external vendors. Where public transport tickets are sold by external vendors, usually tobacco shops are your best bet to get those. Sometimes, you can buy such tickets from other vendors—even in your hotel.</p> <p>Better do your research before leaving home.</p> <p>We already had too much research to do, so some things were left out to figure out “on the spot”. Finding our way in Napoli’s metro system was one of them.</p> </div> <p>Bought those damned tickets and back to the platform. Oh, the humanity: what an old, out‐dated metro system. Prehistoric trains, prehistoric tunnels… prehistoric everything. Boarded the train, and the short ride to <em>Cavour</em> seemed to take forever. These aren’t the advanced, modern metro trains you’d see elsewhere in Europe.</p> <p>Exited the metro station and started walking towards the hotel. The path reminded me more of the older parts of Tel Aviv or Jaffa than of Italy: very old buildings—I’m surprised some of them are still standing—and man, oh man, how crowded they are. Living here means no personal space for you, ever.</p> <p>It was Sunday afternoon. Not many living souls outside, most shops were closed. The mostly empty streets reveal sights of neglect and slight decay. Weather was hot, and I was counting down the meters left to get to the hotel; was happy to finally make it: <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187785-d646334-Reviews-Hotel_Piazza_Bellini-Naples_Province_of_Naples_Campania.html">Hotel Piazza Bellini</a>, located by Piazza Bellini, turned out to be an island of beauty and relaxation in that area.</p> <p>Already late afternoon, we decided to go out for a bite. Before heading out, we asked at the reception what would be the best way to get to and from the concert venue. The concert venue was located about 8km west of the hotel, easily accessible by metro, which makes it great for getting there, but useless for coming back as the metro’s last train on Sundays run before the concert’s anticipated end time. The hotel’s receptionist suggested that we don’t rely on buses because Napoli’s public bus system sucks in royal levels, and instead gave us the number of a local taxi company to call.</p> <p>Great. Was really looking forward for another hectic night, figuring out ways to get back to my hotel. At least, we had a feasible “last resort”: walking. It’s not fun walking 8km at night, but still doable in just under 2 hours.</p> <p>The hotel’s receptionist gave us a general direction for lunch—just go towards Piazza Bellini and there should be “a few open places”. Those “few open places” turned out to only serve drinks and snacks. Incidentally, I turned my head at some point and noticed people dining in some patio. That looked promising: <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187785-d1091054-Reviews-Antica_Pizzeria_Port_Alba-Naples_Province_of_Naples_Campania.html">Antica Pizzeria Port’Alba</a>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBe8eD4ckbihEu7v3aQLPpGxeZtmliMoc5h-QgraoKztty_506Fdpw9goVfVMYzFnypfBjkjEHbtbJNjbMSMivYNdoNbQRXoywnFuE570WIbSxyWXpIF3SfL6Uy_plne_yvqq8DOkZq-X/s1600-h/P10509161%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050916" style="display: inline" alt="P1050916" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRa5k40gAuX3KnhSnqnXUoCl5WbOvjRIZzflvZCIj-TrbgxbXYJoehyphenhyphengeFkke06_K6SKftBE-w-GhTsNWXEjHfUUyYdKNxtqkgcHbexTH5ZWbtWjphHZbinup-Ru8GRMfTWl4NngtsqaK7/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZK6QscN6lm3uvktYxTtiNRRclBsX8qvJrNwTF6hNFmDQGGEvNYlxBsfPAQ0IHFDsqyfkAUdqZSskyJVnUnBhffLFL74hmw_GX_XX75o3Nm2c4V5AF3OvOu3bkhQNqT9ae1qRtfEBO_K7p/s1600-h/P10509171%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050917" style="display: inline" alt="P1050917" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7pVgnUtgn7MK1R_lLqudO_Lt64WjZ5vpnzLwAg0cAg2O22FzmOQhb7JDQvPefPGg_r2Uu81KIhOsD43aMA_zm7w502kpbi1WPIn_ZWOCkPBnLHg4H4cr5iMZYX_hoIjWwsvxff1B0StG6/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I was told before, by my friend Daria, that pizza lovers, while in Napoli, must try a simple Pizza Margherita as it is a “Napoli thing”. Who am I to argue? the pizza, along with some spaghetti and a side order of vegetables, were all consumed with pleasure. The pizza was fantastic.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>As I am sitting down writing this blog post, I used Google to find a link to the <em>TripAdvisor</em> entry for this pizzeria. I was surprised to also find a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antica_Pizzeria_Port'Alba">Wikipedia entry</a>. Well, what do you know: this restaurant is believed to be <em>the world’s first pizzeria</em>.</p> </div> <p>Too much food was ordered and eaten. That, together with the fact that the preceding few days were hectic, prompted me to decide to go back to the hotel, do some writing and never leave the room until the time comes to head to the venue. I followed my decision through, and added a good, healthy nap to the mix.</p> <hr /> <p>Time’s up—let’s go. Left the hotel…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmgmPf_pcPvmeStsc8EaIrGFycNsJp2znJvktMzzTEzFLpM4RCrPvH8ce9sUsEw1M5LBo97u98_CYlHIACFGC-uZYE0g4NHMIt7yT51GDrAKUcQQPUBrkGvC1GhHeltYb25lmsg4OAXZC9/s1600-h/P10509181%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050918" style="display: inline" alt="P1050918" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ_NIfhRoXmRnKHjIk7wjxf7o43YrIPp7x3XHrTHZrlisRC_Fh7S8U4eUNk2UZnqQjM7j2-f-uHtoE7ck8IOxU4lQHG9wKyQyK61mD_XJkvJqYfMrhHPh-42AizSHLfeHKiJqBImUwSBzH/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xDPxtxu3t8zPbXVIoW8wqnnofCDZ5B9SGnTlCkZL1wEPGPPU_hksRy3atUe8Sebn96VtOTf01XM1mot2kF5CEqKrR4M2I73VkIzHnYdlsJCKAmpa-S_MSJDbiy4_OzBKEFJd-wMdIudq/s1600-h/P10509191%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050919" style="display: inline" alt="P1050919" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHdFCvv9GkFOOBpP1VnRo5D4tsQtmjVpjFlgMQdedJcDdUaSnI7d3Sz1vj0hXDeC2PR-hp7F60enOyu37i0HzYieuqjfhUzXhV835SAw6HXe-Smm-eejHdN2RSBLff0bHDlp4EtIhVQbF6/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… and entered the metro station again. Couldn’t find any ticket selling booth. Where do you go to to buy metro tickets in Napoli? right: the good old Tabacchi. There was one a few meters away from the station.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfeVsdiwUDDj-2TQGZL8yt7AQdf-diaZlSvwPq17E5UKRfBNuLTDSjytgx4mDDX9UmK9YE6FSJ4xUhAzIKWXKg17cXqtVx9v3HKvI08_vQnoxmi8w1_bROrwJLmrTNqtSqTEbJs8zpCkF/s1600-h/P10509211%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050921" style="display: inline" alt="P1050921" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4JHPqxxOUUx1ftR-rgynI25QUe1_ne7xJ39MpFqwv6wcnY5Ui157YJD_Yl-6iU-dYJbrO4zim1jpWeeayIiFriVJNz-mM3EeRFApNWM6E7hHhF7J3pJkaUcn5m6gkGZwPVaW6fBbXZ3xG/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZrfJXNWIehAuMujGPXfx8A0j34pLmmE5DtPNIN5cXWY2haU12ekHgjCsK9tsUVsVpKBOO37BDItZDsdzdBWMKMLGXlZvmMzarPUlUuMYsyQXA5UujoRXzmW_rTtOKy1wbdkMDql2Rs2l/s1600-h/P10509221%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050922" style="display: inline" alt="P1050922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ihi31KjC22VvtQHXo7HgM1n-Hz7l-yHr3L0GSiPEVVPcXHwfsKNSSM_Ic_uPyGsXbY3lYgoNSaGvxlj8Xe5wjROlIaNeXRLlcqWvgerJ6LJla51QifmNx3dz9astXEEldasNDFoE2UVC/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Again, those ugly, noisy trains. Long, noisy ride. Left at the closest metro station to the venue and started walking towards the venue, guided by an online map. It was a long walk through a major, busy avenue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9pdAnzz0JHB3nzPLJ4aFg0TP9AkhyphenhyphenQYJS9MkLWTKX15Ix9LBEN0pyQkNJMshBKndJjVMEPCU659G1b9RjufIIAYgAOx47dQJ4v3ZRexYlN3htz-YDj-V_D-JHODZdkY9TpAJ2z4yyCbv/s1600-h/P10509231%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050923" style="display: inline" alt="P1050923" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Qb5_1fOM67uX34E-aZ6u-rcixunFM5XvXBbu-tGnEG9SPyCthxByJKlG8G3919XteZzCBycyVt8QXlFM3dNnNjlYNIW3fzhE-Dk-DuUnwI1O0WnXgSSuVfen39WO8LHaGauwKXnaUPYH/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDhcJrxvLSGlR3V9tTbYNm2Ly4q8UFXSCOzxKOYlKJNOUYvJcKRSSWFzxLmXbINXn654aI4-zXGmq4m8M6KOgX1Q2mYSVpaEPbfDmGFUJ7M95ZEUozBbPPUwDs7SSes33Frx-_3hH1BCaa/s1600-h/P10509241%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050924" style="display: inline" alt="P1050924" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieNdicWO69k2OBzklFo-ahmRQD6qdgRazBYFcI04jfmsjlmUfib4Oo_ww57H8o2xWMIH503k1Y83hhLc6wCWAcX2qaW5WtdXiHh55wJq_k9yGeXJXw6WpTlcnDriLeTe9FgJi91b_ymsl7/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-7h4aGIrXR0AkiPV5Q60QFqEXO4vDzrRGmDOkMQFfPFl4WcgADpdNcVtnnbkaRSWsNn8C40XWo0pvQy4U0dqKOMfNpni7bXgJ8c1YuTd57dBAw6UHGlvCo4UAqYPxWEs1sYErhiCCjyj6/s1600-h/P10509251%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050925" style="display: inline" alt="P1050925" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5gMlGB_rhKUbukfrdagXuyg9hgLo0P44KppvrS_-7uoSCyr-B1dTv_5ZmQcMpYTDa5QM_Y0RSXAiV2BNNANiKRKWq2Xb693c8JNJ31ZHZ2H5KU4kOw_GrdfH6BK5H_ztJpd_w-sRzlNri/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtKtibUKw27f-E4tlfm7H06gISKbkxKGZwtM_L9XfPsp-7qupC9B0vxuSJjFIuUEAhC-coR2NisLQKww6hMuwZqwKFUhbuHRZWvLFLFma7dOHp1f948f0DzdZP7H9sCfnxowiNtnhlS_pU/s1600-h/P10509261%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050926" style="display: inline" alt="P1050926" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZfcofBKNC2hkt2UB33ZAOj2ZAEhIIWPK76WIdzYP-fSK9QF9cgJNNgXPD72D67fbETi8Uo3tNjnMTM2BnVZnB1j3hshIklOpe3GcDRiLblkofJjazzzU-JW6uwduAo0Ps2qOqhUuXf4n/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>We were a little unsure where the venue really was: in the online map, the arena seemed to be a part of a huge complex, so it wasn’t clear where we should be turning off from the main avenue. Shortly after, I found an indication where to go: the fake concert T‐shirt stands. You can always count on those to show up nearby a Knopfler concert venue. Turning right from the main avenue, I was in the middle of a huge complex, still not having a clear direction where to go so. Others seemed to know where they were going, so following them seemed like a great idea.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpAovRoacoT5v3xxgQ5lJ3LOWbEwO-EiMdNZ-IEp2otUk7sngmRyRRXvmVHRGfKjVeLQbwrozBViC4SqGVzTz49C6IYZwDsUXLKtRdamZcgR1XX5NjRNIwCLfsITaWKCqkbyL7lJIzWem/s1600-h/P10509291%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050929" style="display: inline" alt="P1050929" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlinhtm1nHUVHhN-KJ6udjkmVwS3teBmeA_tc1wJDJdHfeq6rPHloUcexsMVvO0TR5Njs6mXnLMJLR8mBnNHGG2gTadz_EtkN2Spc18f7Qgi-1OPKoBmdg9V7_qCHh9VKvQ4pfZjOQT4pU/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5-XCNip3wALQk7o-bbUSHjfN35QXOgKl7faKI6WekGa36Pq3ISGxnpitP_ISkFF4QHZk3UYLJVaJehmXA1hEmG-KK0hsHQFAzFfpUWAoPvj0aFSBVBrXKVwKIM1W1iL2nzFYh9OMuA_m1/s1600-h/P10509301%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050930" style="display: inline" alt="P1050930" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vmwcEfM0WOdNS7D2INZCcq_e6OVndvELhzF3X-bHNHG8I8gqMHSasrjw-jHoboZC4a0gBiwBP4R0KDtyRo2ptkdzR9Kb9Xv2elkDXqwCfLxLNnmH7HqeNghgsIfvGkCi4XqMoRWV764Q/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It worked: <em>Arena Flegrea</em> was right there.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsGZIqj5peqephPP82kAk9_eHdrL5cVFYE8I1yLLjLH5xbH8c-lq7kt9O_XL3DmE8GngJc5blySjCdND_Ycoyscu6Snh_XUABfe_yP8nR9Zh47g-gKe7GwRxdzplR_zWor6m6M_2YjdnsZ/s1600-h/P10509311%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050931" style="display: inline" alt="P1050931" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivCy-9rpLqSfEk-hCZ_OR8zxsxBY4urnJ7YJyw31n-2wdm9anr9ryt0pGsgmANGDUf1gENfXsDZ5Cz9kAh_f9s7XQOaf6YLLR84AgRPX-ceOePHjBUiX2k960wqqw4POdJu6j8LOc2NlRy/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Collected the tickets, and then decided to see whether the people working in the ticket booth know anything about how to get back from the venue to the city center. Again, Italian service at its best: there were two women working in that booth—one handing tickets to people and the other, facing another window, typing on her phone, looking completely apathetic to whatever was going on around. Asking her, she gestured as if to say she has no idea, and turned to her co‐worker who then said “don’t know”, followed by a shriek.</p> <p>The ticketing booth now had two panicked women in it. Ticket collection stopped. The entire world stopped for a few seconds. The reason? one of them discovered a huge bug underneath some paper.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74O7S3kFgJfaHWeflL7dIrDWTUMJXrsFkj90jx6nv1mnI2iX7Kz9MCh13ofnGj5_VviIJmgaFf5I-X1fssvqqbOfv7z74u6Pg-4mWEQ7ZxYT28xylCYPF6WJ_k4Jlc15BCwC251irVRZV/s1600-h/P10509331%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050933" style="display: inline" alt="P1050933" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG5uVotOCN_4SPkmKELxSU_LNv0U5mvOyaaOEmC_lOuQM8vtj4uNbnlqqdhpHNkzCEs1q7zp_vbxXotGgRKIDglhKxqomlK2Fjbm4Mt_FmtAlNzVfZ9GkCqRV9n6PcTScdZXcWFRH0DXzP/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Up the stairs and entered the venue. It was a little weird: the area where the concert was to take place was outdoors, but to get there, you had to go through some sort of a building. That building looked relatively well kept, and I’m guessing that it was new (I can’t find much information about this venue online).</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyOKssMvN3Fhubf-1QVylmzXHsSnk_x87pCE8HWdyV6JETWRR1zKTH5sq1bWH8s6IcGdslMmR4uFOOd_nszFOyB4zYnLiC9MkKCWgY_xG10p0BNHN6nPZ-LxtwqRA2k7YL0zy5AQUmstbc/s1600-h/P10509341%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050934" style="display: inline" alt="P1050934" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_JbH132uZG6m3QxddpQshNOWxKQUJRvJRVOJYWVrGYCuKfMIh4qwQRuNv_NtrA41Wiyd9mN-imYG2wewUbkwlkiWr5LXSDZs-8ZCMh6OsOXkGhVZXBoAhL9SfEC7YbskLald-VnrS4mfx/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaSszbeVhhDmNmCPLd_fjV95aATWXErpxYaACnntYm4l71w6nuggiWhUhAgPsR_2zAw7-0LhwQw8C8c_A3-qTgMKl0PbvB2nq4txihLGyfXNGNxXO_GsNzRh29ezZRVZZOocscdG3SfZLo/s1600-h/P10509351%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050935" style="display: inline" alt="P1050935" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgkjTyjxXC60-nMDnl0a16glece_4eT57ta9SqA8ZOh6FW75K0GMnngqP9Ug3gswhSeLwTchMD9nhDfC6Tv3hW4RzZG6Ic4TPyo-fi8cL2IbHwanGb41Y-4bXam9kKBnHpSI_3xgnUS1os/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Looked like a small venue with one strange feature: between the front row to the stage, the distance was about 10 meters. A fence separated between the front row and that 10 meters gap, and the gap’s height was about 2–3 meters: clearly no <em>Running of the Bulls</em> tonight, as that would involve jumping over a fence, breaking a few limbs while doing so, and then being completely unable to watch the concert as the stage was a few meters high above the gap area.</p> <p>Another feature of this venue was the two concrete walls to the side. I immediately realized that acoustics were going to be a problem. For added scenery, the venue backed into tall green trees, giving you the feeling that you’re watching a concert inside a forest (if you were to ignore those huge concrete walls).</p> <p>Seats?</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KcKs-xRSZWzoLhas-3ChWQGBz-8D093iwWfprhMA6Gaq07DqwOlH4jGOltEFicrSVLFrQv_JniiNTMvMrPbvfrB2PJR_cNa36CXMK_s4KOcUTx9J3rkX3-87LNLBEKvuOh_rt_kyqnH3/s1600-h/IMG_20791%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_2079" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2079" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFzEaiC5vcCBYOY6j7SzxDleVH-JYqkuBg_wQIsdf9ASHCIyGnG3Fk8rzyvhX7w1j0a_ZiFYVqERr2r0shoXJ7C3sTJWMqSy7pbDv7oZ4iH8VHQMZLYlQwcAo49CYiNgXkpTTiMEhGCVi1/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A few readers of this blog came to say hello: one from North Carolina, one from Manchester and one from Switzerland. Another United Nations sort of thing. The common to all: nobody knew exactly how to get back from the venue to their hotels, and everybody who tried to get any sort of information about the subject ended up encountering a huge wall of complete ignorance.</p> <p>It was decided, then, to get together in an agreed‐upon spot (conveniently located right in front of my seat) after the concert, so we could figure things out as a group.</p> <p>The concert started pretty much on time, and right at the beginning I realized that I won’t be able to watch the concert fully from where I was seated. I was seated to the left, and the high volume was going to kill my sensitive left ear. A few songs into the show, I decided that I’m not risking going deaf so I watched most of the concert from the very back rows, high up the stairs.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PJFHhQ0c1i5gshgtoFhguEB5_sG7iAufT2QNe1tKGYNelh4VkMjoGyK9n1O6zZ_78Rz0HPmLOQZVwbFusmc-qrQsNzMnJ29G7yuxOV6ZetznPhpza1pXlS9jBfcCGNmvCTaPSEWcO5W3/s1600-h/P10509441%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050944" style="display: inline" alt="P1050944" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvnENb1wduT9W6ToYEoXGx2wSGRdIiagksCRqpbwVRCVR-w3p7KcFH7dJNIDbM-70VZ-7hbvpxhNWEG3zK3urDCq4CWTvqBW3ctXHPVRyEGfqg63MgyRsOYEl54Ob5TMlfo3PKdrG0aFL1/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="367" /></a></p> <p>Was a good concert overall, with <em>Brothers in Arms</em> being played for the first time in a while. I watched the last few songs from my seat: people kept sneaking to the front for the purpose of taking pictures, then hurrying back to their seats. The guy sitting to my immediate left videotaped the entire concert.</p> <p>During Telegraph Road, someone decided that he was going to Skype the entire song to his friend, using his tablet. He arrived, armed with a tablet and his girlfriend, fired his tablet, Skype‐called his friend and held the tablet so his friend could see and listen to what was going on. During the quiet part of Telegraph Road, the recipient of the Skype call decided that it’d be a good time to start talking.</p> <p>So many idiots live on this planet that I start feeling lonely.</p> <p>Concert ended, and five tourists gathered together trying to figure out how to get back to the city center. We decided to head back to the main avenue and try hailing a taxi. One taxi signalled that he was turning around to pick us up, which he did—but while doing so, he was hailed by someone else and let them in. Great service.</p> <p>Went to a nearby bar. Amann, a nice fellow from Switzerland who was in our group, happened to be speaking Italian so he grabbed the phone number of a taxi company from the bar’s owner and called for a taxi. A minute later, a taxi showed up, but it wasn’t the taxi that we called for; plus, it could only hold three passengers.</p> <p>We had no choice, then, but to break up: Jeroen, Amann and myself went into the taxi, and the others remained behind waiting for the taxi that Amann called for minutes earlier.</p> <p>The ride to the hotel was one of the scariest taxi rides I took in my entire life. I would <em>never</em> drive in Napoli. People here drive like complete and utter idiots. Sort of like Istanbul: you can never anticipate who’s going to do what. You can’t take anything for granted. Numerous scooters ridden by people who were under the impression that they owned the road.</p> <p>One of the scariest moments took place as we drove through a tunnel. In front of us, three scooters—two people on each. At the left shoulder of the tunnel, a girl was walking by. The people on the scooter right in front of us decided that this would be a perfect time to stop the scooter to chat the girl up. May I remind you, again, that we were <em>in a tunnel</em>. How our taxi driver got out of that one—I don’t know. We nearly hit them.</p> <p>The drive took about 10 minutes but it felt like forever. I was sure we’re going to end up in a hospital somewhere: <em>insane</em> drivers. Luckily, got back to the hotel safely. Took a few minutes to see what was going on in Piazza Bellini, right in front of the hotel: seems like a popular destination for youngsters in the evening, a few cafes full of people, and others enjoying their time by the fountain. Some police was present on site, to maintain order.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOV5C3KLJZKlXkwf3rZw2mNjMBlyTRxyH_-OVltMZYFaZbjpv-DB9Z4RZ5927znOrkxe6eOXJK9DISfixFUv9CbsuzN0lOQHCtWJtY9kMJrZkTw_A73MxUUKGNi_z9FEsfUDTpQgFLU951/s1600-h/P10509501%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050950" style="display: inline" alt="P1050950" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZoQ_hzTCnyE15ENmeiFA0ixQphWO7bZpS-OUSUb8MH6qUwGi7puDUG7e4FYTUgY4Rcway7Pg1YsHQZX6INJi4DImPln6E-_cDO60dasgayydoveeqP6BHEWIMGIrxqOxqxAhKXW9uJqYz/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Back to the hotel and off for a good night sleep, knowing that the next day was going to be hell.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from the hotel room in Taormina. So much happened over the last couple of days… what a rush. Off to the concert now. Will try to complete the next blog post during the ferry ride to Malta tomorrow.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-73722993317175505732013-07-15T14:34:00.001-07:002013-09-10T08:26:40.990-07:00Locarno, Switzerland to Padova and Rome, Italy (July 12–13, 2013)<p>The first cable car from Cardada down to Orselina departs 8:15am. As I wasn’t quite aware of the cable car’s schedule <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/nimes-france-to-locarno-switzerland.html">until I actually arrived in Locarno</a>, I felt lucky as 8:15am departure fitted well with the rest of the schedule for the day: depart Locarno’s central station at 9:03am, arrive Bellinzona 9:26am; depart Bellinzona 10:05am, arrive Milano 11:50am; depart Milano 12:05pm, arrive Padova 2:12pm. Five hours over three trains.</p> <p>The Albergo Cardada hotel, situated in Cardada, some 1,340m above Locarno, offers breakfast starting 8:00am, so things had to be done quickly. By 7:55am, two hungry travellers were already checked out, luggage set aside and started piling food on plates. Less than 15 minutes later, breakfast was over and done with and the journey to the cable car station—a staggering 10 meters walk from the hotel’s entrance—began.</p> <p>One last look at the mountains and Lake Maggiore. It was grey and foggy, but you could still see some majesty.</p> <p>I will miss this, but it’s time to move on.</p> <p>8:15am sharp, the cable car went on its way down. Each second passed made me realize how lucky I was that everything worked perfect in Locarno, schedule‐wise, with all the funiculars and cable cars along. Last sanity check: do I have everything with me? let’s see. Train pass… here. Passport… here. Laptop… well, my laptop is so heavy that it’s impossible to not notice. Yes, everything’s here: nothing’s left on that mountain.</p> <p>Arrived at Orselina. A few minutes wait for the funicular down to Locarno… boarded… check. Felt good to be back on the ground again. Not because I preferred Locarno’s city center over the mountains, but because now, on the ground, with 30 minutes or so left to the train’s departure, I knew that I no longer depend on cable cars.</p> <p>Philipp, Thomas and Barbara were in the station as well, en route to Locarno’s airport, where Philipp had his airplane parked. Imagine how nice it must be: you fly your own airplane, land in an airport, and park it there. You wanna go home? no problem: train to the airport, start your airplane and fly out.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>That also allows for an exceptionally good pick up line. “Hey, how about I’ll pick you up at 6 o’clock, we’ll fly somewhere nice.”</p> </div> <p>Hopped on the S‐20 S‐Bahn en route to Bellinzona. As Philipp is such a nice person, I agreed to lower my standards temporarily, join the “common people” and board the 2<sup>nd</sup> class cabin for the first few stations. Not that bad. Trains in Switzerland seem to provide very high standard of travel even in 2<sup>nd</sup> class, and even for S‐Bahn trains, which are usually short‐haul ones.</p> <p>Arrived in Bellinzona and had some time to kill. I thought I had never been here before, but once I exited the station and crossed the street to a nearby pharmacy, I looked around and the place looked awfully familiar. <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-feste-marienberg-wurzburg.html">Yes, I have been here before</a>: here’s the cafe I sat in, exactly three years ago, waiting for my train…</p> <p>The reason for visiting a pharmacy was to attempt to buy an adhesive tape, so I can attach a few gauze pads together when wrapping those around my wrist under the wrist brace (won’t bore you with the details about why). Of course, not even one living soul in the pharmacy was able to communicate in English, leaving me with the only option of looking around the pharmacy myself, which I did and found nothing.</p> <p>Hopped on the train, quick two hours ride to Milano Centrale. A short delay, but we still made it to the connecting train which was conveniently located on the other side of the platform.</p> <p>Looking at the seat reservation for the train from Milano to Padova, we noticed that the seat was a 2<sup>nd</sup> class seat. That was odd: we wouldn’t book a 2<sup>nd</sup> class seat for a train ride unless the ride was very short and the price difference was substantial. As EURail and Interrail train passes cover 1<sup>st</sup> class fares in Italy (but not seat reservations: seat reservations, if required, still have to be paid out of pocket), we assumed that we could just board a 1<sup>st</sup> class cabin, find two vacant seats and enjoy the ride.</p> <p>That was a mistake that resulted in one of the most chaotic train rides in the entire tour.</p> <p>First, it turns out that train rides from Milano to Padova during this seasons were extremely busy. In hindsight, that’s not surprising considering the fact that these trains’ final destination is Venice, which only happens to be one of the most popular tourism destinations in the world. Boarding the 1<sup>st</sup> class cabin, I thought I was entering hell: I don’t think I have ever seen so many suitcases inside a train before. <em>Loads and loads</em> of tourists—single travellers, couples and families—were all over the cabin, with their suitcases located pretty much everywhere: overhead, between the seats, on the aisle, between the train’s cabins… bloody everywhere. The cabin had air conditioning going on, but apparently not strong enough to battle the heat generated by the bodies of so many tourists scrambling around the cabins to either find a vacant seat, or to find their own seats.</p> <p>Luckily (or so I thought), two vacant seats, opposing each other, were found; however, the LCD panel above them showed that they were reserved between Milano and Venice. That meant that either the people who reserved these seats are not on this train, or that they <em>are</em> on the train and currently battling to find their way to their seats. We stood by the seats—the train ride had already started, mind you; and it’s a fast train, reaching speed in excess of 200km/h—waiting to see whether the seats’ rightful owners were going to show up or not.</p> <p>Eventually, they did. Fortunately, they were sympathetic of the situation and weren’t mad or anything. Frustrated, we decided to head back to the 2<sup>nd</sup> class cabin—a walk of about 3–4 coaches in a moving train. On the way there, I found one vacant seat in 1<sup>st</sup> class and parked myself there. A minute later, Jeroen appeared and reported that these trains require seat reservations, and if you own a 2<sup>nd</sup> class seat reservation, then you must be seated there even if you own a train pass (this information was provided by the train’s staff).</p> <p>Defeated, we marched back to our rightful seats. Total time spent walking back and forth in a moving train: about half an hour, out of a 2 hours train ride.</p> <p>Chaos didn’t skip the 2<sup>nd</sup> class cabin, either. <em>So… many… tourists</em>. <em>So… many… families… with… noisy… kids</em>. Where the hell am I? am I on a train or in a damn kindergarten? <em>WILL SOMEONE TURN ON THE AIR CONDITIONING</em>?</p> <p>All I wanted was for this train ride to pass. Eventually, it did. Was happy to leave the train. Exited Padova’s central railway station and headed to the hotel—<a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187867-d230420-Reviews-Hotel_Grand_Italia_Residenza_d_Epoca-Padua_Province_of_Padua_Veneto.html">Hotel Grand’Italia</a> (no typo; they put the apostrophe in the hotel’s name)—located right across the street from the station.</p> <hr /> <p>Even though the tour’s schedule mentions Padova as the city/town where the concert was to take place, this information is incorrect: the “real” location would be <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazzola_sul_Brenta">Piazzola sul Brenta</a>, and Padova just happens to be the closest sizable city. I knew this, because during the 2010 Get Lucky tour, <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-anfiteatro-camerini.html">a concert took place in exactly the same venue</a>.</p> <p>Still, I have never been to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Padua">Padova</a> before. In 2010, I was subject to the mercy of two wonderful Italian sisters who live in northern Italy and were going to the concert anyway (by car), so I tagged along with them.</p> <p>The feeling I got as soon as I exited Padova’s central railway station—even before arriving at the hotel, which was a mere 40 meters away or so—was not good in the slightest. The area looked, felt and smelled like a slum. Typical central railway station scenery in Europe: those who weren’t as fortunate as I am to live capable life—along with those who were probably given a chance or two and blew it—call the area home. Dirt, filth, everywhere. Everything looks dusty, neglected. Questionable individuals leaning against the buildings, some drinking alcohol in broad daylight (you could get arrested for doing so pretty much anywhere in North America).</p> <p>Shady, dodgy place; the hotel, however, was very pleasant. Checked in, chilled out for a bit and then went out to look for some food.</p> <p>Before heading out, we asked the receptionist about how we were to go about getting to Piazzola sul Brenta, which is located about 20km away from Padova’s city center. We knew that there was a bus going there, but the problem was about getting back; we presumed that, if no other options exist, we’d simply take a taxi.</p> <p>So, here’s a tip: while in Italy, you must <em>never</em> presume anything. The receptionist informed us that a taxi back from Piazzola sul Brenta to Padova’s city center is likely to cost about (sit <em>very</em> tight) €140. Mind you, that’s for a 20km ride (I found out the reason later; read on). The Dutchman then said that he does recall reading about taxi cab riding in Italy being a stupidly expensive thing to do.</p> <p>It’s funny, though, how things end up working out at the end. The hotel’s receptionist mentioned that they have a “private car” service, and that two other guests in the hotel booked it in order to get to the very same concert. She phoned them, and the good news were that they were willing to share the expenses. A “private car” service means that a driver picks you up from the hotel, takes you wherever you want for a duration of a few hours and then gets you back to the hotel—all for a price of about €130. Split four ways, you can’t say it’s a bad deal.</p> <p>Nothing suitable was found to eat in the immediate vicinity of the central railway station. There was a McDonald’s there, and if you took some time to observe the people who hung around in the area, you’d know why. Searches in <em>TripAdvisor</em> showed nothing useful, so we decided to just walk towards the city center—about one kilometer south. Once you cross the San Gregorio river, the scenery begins to look more like what you’d expect from Italy, and less like what you’d expect from hell.</p> <p>Of course, this is Italy: a restaurant is to be considered closed unless proven otherwise. <em>Google Local</em>, the online tool I’m using for looking for places to eat whenever <em>TripAdvisor</em> fails, suggested a restaurant by the name of <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187867-d2339006-Reviews-Brek_Ristorante-Padua_Province_of_Padua_Veneto.html">Brek</a>. Arriving there, it turned out that it was going to open 20 minutes or so down the road, so the time was used to wander around the city center and taking pictures. Meanwhile, looked for some other dining alternatives, which turned out to be overpriced tourist traps.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOEZLkEUrnqcgl8vZf4RuxobtTc7RQ02hrS-pMyliaySAy2wdVs0QKPlfu7NjfATKLhhJGdcKlFyU8HsnJR8INIRBAlJlm0BCTxiRGG51lv08nbcm_KtZC1Dq2EFVU_vwp-KZqT-HUShei/s1600-h/P10508811%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050881" style="display: inline" alt="P1050881" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwEL8EoQzE9ThyphenhyphenMIOAadffYKqTeLTHa8hJzk-sa3Pb3iyZmBr6ZNXn2cfKjuqg3jbX4I4V2wkpEXk_8NrJkfkSn8phdtyqpSgo8i63y5JHukGWMK_OEtO3m3NmEb7WYxXlolzX53PU8eeA/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDij9adaCx_igFAYz4auq3TVr-Al43X5qucpjiCf2hw9_boq_Ex6TYsmGIEucA3WciQ75C8vD1yrody7AseUpvD_BoGLKk7NLF_I0_UJs3VwsELtXqWFXrr7rNChyphenhypheno1K3vaoGeOb1v5n1/s1600-h/P10508821%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050882" style="display: inline" alt="P1050882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTGyV8gPKnBPC4o0nHBg4fU962zbU-qHE3o5ER8loU2KtF_pj6WXdHG9Rp9TntPvpnEaWL0Zk4hXKsX4jlAHCCZeWD0izz3PKv0VtINfum7JQzN4Pj7rEgxOasVfYXi8I6hyphenhyphenERIXNgld7P/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyj9j6qO07Fmwt_keMw70Fc5DofuEiJLtHWnJWeexC5N2bP79mk98WYcR5FfETIIQGQWizyEn_2BaKUpbm5dW0ls9pl3E-Ngm-gdgzwGA-wcnm0rJCMaER06O7eLxP1947x3fnQF1D6ibZ/s1600-h/P10508831%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050883" style="display: inline" alt="P1050883" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLImxm5Ruo7gD_15cma4N8SHjT7esXqFv3-5-Y6Ks2-1heqHcCNXfLJY5sSCE3vjcD1k0Tbi2OibEEhWRWkgllQ5lpbA6-Z7rLSvA0kTo4qPmd9aVXquJ7uEzlIm3vOtSvTuCtpMHhy6sM/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzG3A03vSrJqv0yrFf1dkkLpSLXFnoIXXDwrYQnlA8ssM0VNL6glCRx2Vb6YNXKpgiAsWMzp4Fcom3eQhp6LydfArYMRxsbmlm6JhrKcWg-5nOxEwSGrzAVucS0ahQ7RByOY1TsMdFT9DV/s1600-h/P10508841%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050884" style="display: inline" alt="P1050884" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7iQvSQecqurscblJic4ib7al6BlZCQEjQ9iiFG5HuqxO43lq2nOIda1ZoE-sUeMy__Vnzd93RNozHkdYLHXPGTHrEvRJKE8AGG-Gvfxen8IuJI8-t8o0H-W9xH2SSUJcKqpotvEETIoVJ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh649OV4MUkwuQaaic-dnchG3ZZPzzwsN7ZvRvGFfA2L6qWTQ5-XMVA5Hv630M6COYmh0LgrkD1RjxbpX8imYHujXeXxGOHy8Nq9S7EmHbyO-Jatra8XX-wscTIsTsUBiALKKd9anhwOI7l/s1600-h/P10508851%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050885" style="display: inline" alt="P1050885" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbRHbIRiAIFYTEIEWNFdjKTPPItd9Ct9QGS8uFxR5RiJYG__kBobh7kcz0_ta3wBJ7cqa1VoSXsLFn60jQph7vmfO_h8Yf7eAVChNHk4rgf0TUG3sdV3KW0IL0zC-gyg0jSB6paeSa0oOI/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgglLzPugUy1nikoDuV-lZa_OeVjc-w6YFEcqCjr6TT2kCFSYXoI-0Q3jTCjogzyJG4yrEG53NzgNJRBy5N4YX4ifwSSqZjuFixc3gWpTLkQNI34KgAz8pOeYJ7Tbkrfj_UDnKPCApJU3g1/s1600-h/P10508871%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050887" style="display: inline" alt="P1050887" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFPKcjq1T3ok9TYn1bL-yfhwG5NpVUcNbMObZWVHspWCDnxlAP0stp3V2DVAVKcqPOzYpuAkPZdr_Dr5D2ctdWbvjdM6ejRNZorrLLSodPAcH__cWglCC6rIuEdA3svPxlxKVT3VSVBRS/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>This part of the city is indeed nicer. I would have, perhaps, continued to traverse the old city’s narrow, picturesque streets but time was pressing. 6:30pm and we stormed into that restaurant found earlier. The way it works there is that you’re supposed to walk through multiple “booths” and ask for the items you want, then pay at the end. Problem: it’s all in Italian, but fortunately, there was an exceptionally nice lady working there who explained each and every item in the menu.</p> <p>Simple, excellent filling dinner for two for about €26. Can’t go wrong. Go there if you’re in town.</p> <p>Back to the hotel, chilled out for a bit and went downstairs shortly before 8:00pm, as we were supposed to meet the other passengers there. Minutes later, a big (big? huge!) guy with the haircut and the attire of a heavy metal fan stepped out of the elevator escorted by an older woman. Their accent meant either English or Australian; turned out to be Australian, a mother and her son. The son, in his early 30’s, recently quit his job in Australia and decided to spend a few months in Europe following all sorts of music festivals. I asked him whether he’s aware of the fact that Mark Knopfler isn’t quite considered the purveyor of heavy metal music—you know, just to help him set his expectations right; he replied that he knew that, and it’s all good.</p> <p>Hopped on the private taxi. 25 minutes and an interesting conversation later, the driver dropped us off right at the entrance to the venue, and promised to be there when the concert ends, to pick us all up.</p> <hr /> <p>The venue, <em>Anfiteatro Camerini</em>, is located in the area of a huge Italian villa called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Villa_Contarini">Villa Contarini</a>. The villa is named after the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Villa_Contarini">House of Contarini</a>—a rich and respected Venetian dynasty. The venue hosts a live music festival every year.</p> <p>A few bars and restaurants are available outside the venue, along the nearby streets and near the adjacent park. I remember, last time I was here in 2010, I went along with the Italian sisters and their family to a nearby cafe—a couple of blocks away from the venue and away from the typical festival noise. Somehow, I managed to find that cafe (actually, “somehow” doesn’t fit well; memory is associative. Being placed in the same venue, three years later, helped resurface hidden memories from the back of my mind).</p> <p>Interesting concept: you can’t just go inside, say what you want, get it, pay and get out. No, that would be too simple. Instead, you are more than welcome to browse what they have—but then, you have to go outside, where a cashier can be found. You tell the cashier what you want, she types it all in, gives you a receipt and sends you back in to grab your goods.</p> <p>Inefficient (which, in Italy, means “business as usual”); but what I was really wondering is whether any of you could guess, by this receipt, what it was that we ordered.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6DApQ43Pv1bBjjqhRQKfn5Drg5NTJZrTwtjIolwpLuNH_SsHEHczMesXwfenM6xMeYQPinU4TA1QeTGv7fz4OpOHDw40etMnz1BdkNEtEC_oNCxafC2ykXoYZ45J6DxlwsGUPmieQ7lQ_/s1600-h/IMG_20130712_205129-rotated%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130712_205129-rotated" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130712_205129-rotated" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoW6aK80fOYrjiAbROV0WWb-h6B5bh_VUlrB0JFs-tv5cyVfhyTdbrgpLQqQf4GDuigMSkZw0klJng34NiuYEm9vTN6nfP8iBxauSk_i1ZzJE6p4IVOAC_4RmmIaPPgM3HbUVpIFwzuAh/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>For those of you who weren’t able to guess it, we ordered one cappuccino and one small 2‐scoops ice cream. Shame on you, really, for not being able to tell. Now, mind you, this didn’t confuse only you: it also confused the poor lady who had to prepare the order. Eventually, it turns out that what we <em>said</em> we would like to have isn’t exactly what the cashier <em>thought</em> we should be getting. There was a very loose connection between what we asked for and what we ended up paying for. At the end, those missing €0.40 were gladly paid. Perfect cappuccino, thank you very much.</p> <p>Back at the venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaSeOamWSj02woWicnz3L7YWMM-c3ryG-K8cmbfsowHUPyUTZTJzWR0nRm47PV_CmeFk_WZersKsaE4fZXoppRUOR2gDhe6XlTgg02VW3gLwXVA_G9la2VQ1eGbX1RW8qu-u6H7rH-qRt2/s1600-h/IMG_19861%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1986" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1986" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgd1yLzjbTXIM1Ut6YLYu_f0DJjljuCLTQWPCZIwSu-FykP4tWJcxC9EvM8hnVwuXNjbsrKz8IEXac6l4X9i6ZDc3_brV9gXse6lO8goZbsGw7UPJqH_iFbTWZgkkKw5rjysGyUwpKlhE/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOXJddWeLayn7EilSCiIcWEDwMzCFBvmLaT1jYSRLO8S0EiBFbS9ciyUWdHLgBJOuYv_f7AY9qr-neeipPM3nOGnVlDwu14c2GjP9GeH8R98sR-8TkcuAiMG5ltip7ZBbCG4SjPdP28k_Y/s1600-h/IMG_19871%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1987" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1987" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfVKxBg26zegmQCE7iIiZiMfkY37JyqOYoRb46Kh6aW2DeHCui0DSp9IeeLcdn_WfG2K48VrWbhw_A2x-Th646-NwwSAt5kYUmNSqu63ioL3X1F0VIBp69DqUa3xJBZD73G5lHOK0phnl/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-2-_H4qlAEopSSt7zIHgUD0G1aQEKjE6OUvknuxs1a9cWQU0LNOrEHuSJZRtfl91LJg5e2Z4NjkoXEvR8gM2YCprfX2jdCHGew4Gk2Ac2O8cpm564FwR706U2Ry4p6PJFxSrn114LEQhf/s1600-h/IMG_19881%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1988" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1988" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhth1gIdLeKu2XWJrqJmYG8q7V_ogUKyrvWz29410k3kfvv-wOkIVF0mkNcTmLF3Q-2l6f8Itos4g7dXgicq_lHfnwRAHODIHsvvzb0tAviwhDMh04YRA3PLUtr82pQJi4HiFw_JTebAJiQ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihbYFztdpZ9S6y8i7UVb3RAm8hhXxysSbwpY6i6P1KbZbRuqXvO1ySZPRBJTSBB5hLFZ0scQeucoyu3P76slu4tyDKuFGaiOdGKT2n0AQVZXvefDP2m_Xfu6RX7Cjhkn9dhTG61PsiNNRX/s1600-h/IMG_19891%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1989" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1989" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK2EyZwG0dPmtk4tpQ97YQ40uDAaHPynmc09uOIU1hi3tFa05FFpvdsgdwjkcC4hk3BEwhDGynDZk6XNPFNXGg8qlj9DMefI23c-WXXRPsXDKhTMm2k73aU6ZKEThOq45emSN6qbHicNAF/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtydxSLPUM_Mo1D2ccMXuIpPQsnyT4M2-dL6yl5gaJ562t6aksnFjWUT8D0Amz0vmwd4dof3stexqYZz82ZGHiSfI_Qhts7d-vE6rS3MZQpKo7Med-opoB48Mq3CGWuuVdTckbzvTWO3hR/s1600-h/IMG_19901%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1990" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1990" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihBVKJbNSKDrpGq7uq2YpYhzuAqGMjcbgrR1dN8tjxlkdylmkmYUUSc8D_HXbmLwnZUHJgDt4nRGuaZiOpo7Fqr-v2irLG6Zu2BjSjMSlrSyXyx5JGT5PeWrzndOmvCUjOXObdsEfesmU/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="367" /></a></p> <p>Villa Contarini provides for an excellent outdoors concert venue. The beautiful villa located to the right; green all around; lots of space; and the weather was excellent—what else could you ask for? not much. It was a great concert experience with a lot of energy. Well, this is, again, Italy: the audience in Italy is an integral part of the concert. Cheers and applauses are usually <em>very</em> loud, and when you factor in the amount of passion built into the Italian language itself, you should get the idea why attending concerts in Italy is a pleasure.</p> <p>Ian—perhaps for the first time in this tour—chose to stand up for the opening sequence of <em>Hill Farmer’s Blues</em>. I’m guessing it’s easier hitting all those cymbals that way.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3F16TB7IH0a-zu28Kx1ivY8tOyapwfeDCDl0fFAR5eF7S34elgy1xRVVPUdcsAmT_3TvlDBxv1Iy6tUFX0UgH21I68XLtjkUfQZ3TSWzxRmWqQCSRzv6tB7QpAjHynn5vYP3JzgWGnVeQ/s1600-h/IMG_19981%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1998" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1998" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1KVKxHHuIT6GF1Qrilao8iCFwdpIGpgEjr1JtjHCdl0K_5sPkNAgDjhyphenhyphenw_lVYXElB-A342ua8XWJcgG39IgwAkat30r3TpET70iLrzJMjJvFU5QEUMhnw5nPaKkAcjwejLrv4CIeDQyR/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>After <em>Speedway to Nazareth</em>, I was expecting the usual <em>Running of the Bulls</em> which, in Italy, might get rather nasty. What happened in reality, though, was far from anything I could have imagined. A group of people from the front couple of rows indeed walked (didn’t run, though. Walk. Puzzling) towards the stage with the intention of staying there until the end of the concert. That, naturally, obstructed the view of people sitting behind. People then started yelling at the bulls—I don’t exactly know what, but it sounded like “<em>sedotti</em>” (maybe an Italian‐speaking reader could comment and explain?). At any rate, I believe what they meant to yell was “sit the !#@# down”. The calls grew louder and louder until the group of people, standing in the front, simply took off and went back to their seats.</p> <div class="indented"> <p><em>Update, July 19, 2013: the correct word is “seduti”. Thanks, Valeria.</em></p> </div> <p>After <em>Telegraph Road</em>, however, nobody could stop them. Good encore, show ended and we exited the venue through the main exit.</p> <p>With every step towards the agreed‐upon meeting place, I was praying that things will turn out well. It was comforting to know, though, that there’s a business association between the private driver and the hotel, and if something goes wrong, I would be raising hell the next morning. To my complete surprise, though, the driver was already at the meeting point, waiting for us outside the car. Now that’s what I call service.</p> <p>Quite expectedly, the Australian and his mother weren’t there yet. Long minutes passed before they showed up, during which the driver explained, in a nutshell, how taxis work in Italy.</p> <p>If I understood things correctly, there are two types of taxi cabs in Italy: white ones and yellow ones. The white ones can’t be hailed spontaneously: you must call their respective company in order to get them to your location. Once you call the taxi company, a taxi is dispatched your way <em>and the meter starts running as soon as the driver is dispatched</em>. That is, if the driver happens to be located half an hour away from you, and they are dispatched at your direction, you have to pay for that half an hour.</p> <p>I don’t think I ever encountered such a standard before. It raises interesting questions. For example, what happens if you call a taxi company, and they have two taxis that can serve you: one is two minutes away from you, and one is half an hour away. Which one will they send over? the one closer to you? not necessarily. While it would cost <em>you</em> less, remember that it’s in the best interest of the taxi company (and the driver) to get as much money out of you as possible.</p> <p>Yellow cabs, on the other hand, work differently. You may hail them at will but there’s no telling how much you’re going to be charged. According to our driver, the taxi world in Italy is a mess—everybody’s ripping everybody else off.</p> <p>The Australian family finally showed up, with Alex (the son) holding a cup of beer. Before entering the cab, he remembered that he needed to urinate and voiced his frustration over the inability to simply take his manhood out of his trousers and urinate on a nearby tree. He then had to go back inside the venue, empty his bladder and get back. That’s another 10 minutes.</p> <p>I didn’t care, though. All I knew was that I’m going to be glued to this driver and I’m going to go anywhere he goes; at the end, I’ll likely end up in my hotel.</p> <p>Fortunately, that’s how things turned out. Paid the driver, left the car, bid the Australians goodbye and off to bed.</p> <p>Funny how these things work out.</p> <hr /> <p>The next morning started easy. Being in a hotel so close to the central railway station carries the advantage of being able to sleep in, have breakfast at ease and still be certain that you’re OK, travel‐wise.</p> <p>The plan: leave Padova 9:53am, arrive Rome 1:10pm. One train, around three hours. You’re kidding, right? come on. That’s easy. One train? that’s it?</p> <p>Yes.</p> <p>I was excited to get to Rome. <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-cavea-auditorium-parco.html">I have been there once before in my life</a>, during the 2010 Get Lucky tour—for one night only, a time period barely enough to do anything in this great city. Also, the early arrival time made it possible to do some sightseeing.</p> <p>The three hours train ride was divided into two: <em>hell</em> and <em>paradise</em>. <em>Hell</em> took place between Padova and Florence, and was characterized by millions of tourists riding that poor train. Again, so many suitcases…</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I moved to Canada a little more than ten years ago. I had to take my entire life with me, for an indefinite length of time, to a country located about 10,000km from where I was born and raised. Everything fit well into two suitcases.</p> <p>Why people take so much luggage with them when they go on vacation is beyond me. Women tend to pack more than men (<a href="http://www.facebook.com/isaac.shabtay/posts/10151509101247073">see this</a>) for incredibly stupid reasons; but that aside, the way I see it is that the more you pack, the less “true” vacation you’re going to have.</p> </div> <p><em>Paradise</em> took place once all said tourists left the train in Florence.</p> <p>Arrived in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roma_Termini_railway_station">Roma Termini</a> on time. The hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187791-d278345-Reviews-Hotel_Mozart-Rome_Lazio.html">Hotel Mozart</a>, was located about three metro stops away, near the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spanish_Steps">Piazza di Spagna</a> (the “Spanish Steps”). Metro… now how do you go about doing that? oh, here’s a machine. Good. In Italy, I prefer using such machines over talking to people, if only for the fact that these machines can communicate in English, which too many Italians can’t. In Rome, you can get a day pass for €6, covering the two metro lines and all buses until midnight; a bargain.</p> <p>There are two metro lines in Rome: Line A and Line B. Line B actually came first: it’s old (dating back to 1955), and the trains running that line are old as well. Line A is more modern and is even air conditioned: not only the trains are air‐conditioned, but also the entire waiting area.</p> <p>We needed Line A. Good. Mind you, you don’t see many clouds in Rome nowadays as the temperature was approaching 6,000℃.</p> <p>Three stations to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spagna_(Rome_Metro)">Spagna</a>, and from there it’s a short walk through a sea of people to the hotel, located in a narrow side street. Very good hotel right at the city center—although it does get noisy at times, because… well, because it’s right at the city center.</p> <p>Checked in and decided to go do some sightseeing. Being in Rome and not going to witness at least some of what this city has to offer in terms of history is insane, and what’s more insane is doing it <em>twice</em>. The itinerary: first, go to see what’s that Vatican thing is all about, then head to the Colosseum. The reason was that the venue—located outside the city center—was closer to the Colosseum than to the Vatican, and we were prepared for the possibility of running out of time and having to head to the venue directly.</p> <p>Off to the metro, and the Vatican City is a few stops away. Exited the station and started following the crowds.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSBlSxl5nuQ8gBj5d0E9u9KMOe4Y92Wnn28o6HYkoJLU3tSq9LyplIgdgnKmZVsqKMbQ5fVtFpwvpmHhu3AtsOGtYkP1gJQB5ydKi5UejUQS5cUXoBfX8mxYQPOXA4NxieHOFxCyVSc2HW/s1600-h/P10508881%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050888" style="display: inline" alt="P1050888" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2oxGDyIvuaYpjaD2oGC3SmFgmjuhybuIROsFaOhbb1VI4qcGGqx7-YprJ3LItgGMSM_Ca3nSlKKNmDDUeCmoOPAlnkYNSq104A09VLEjIeq8H4ZoXxepHi4aB6LT0codpLoOy6MuzTPQa/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9lPnsbMBR3awINNDwiya7UVse4deANRBmm0eniP_3_OaRgggBrpcpws7n3_ae3V0R8Ok6tGwID9eGuhzMv4uj1-pBKiw3Hc-WBm3zwnAkGmffo1Hi48S4oM_iFyRu1-vuw24gs2G7DzWh/s1600-h/P10508891%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050889" style="display: inline" alt="P1050889" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYpxeCuM6uYlnDtMM7OfbhcD8Qph5FEa2GbYqPwdeRxQSIUQxQoUemozvl7vw3QgaNvECLCl6yky8hRhWKXu959t_IjhWsB0kvhb__qiGzm3xcXe0FSYjAQGAhyphenhyphenMRAuv19CNh5D2lvduWa/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Five minutes later, and the Vatican City was right there. It looks like a mass of architectural beauty amidst a mass of… well… “regular” old buildings. Entering from the east, the first thing you see is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Peter's_Square">Saint Peter’s Square</a>, a huge square located in front of one of the most famous sites in the Vatican City (and, considering the number of Christians in the world, I’m betting this is one of the most famous buildings in the world)—the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Peter%27s_Basilica">Saint Peter’s Basilica</a>.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxVCgK_GMTLIodb5PPp6Vt0O0r_uJFSbZDHaiKYqwUZqsAhI94jpUtdZn5B4dtTQE5mGi7x3XATCpnEzAFZKSBVFyMBxZ8zqohY3SxtcYqfTt3A8kryxEb4OWaDxmP1dWtCjCXEGs1Qf_Y/s1600-h/P10508901%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050890" style="display: inline" alt="P1050890" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitHSoRCT16WjBcqbjZCdVnelCw7EarQg0AzZ5fzga627pEKhej4hLrk1Ie-x88oCSP1C2vIaLjrcq9Xk6gRBRfMSH3EX8MPPUoxrbaYLuG8bS5ZqmifbZA0qR4H-ld5Wk8YPjqfp1Tlgwx/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD1f9K3wVX06ie7mpmJzTwOPxeXagRrdOwbnkhRtp0BzbCW0VcuC0eWt01OvjIo-2ukIidS2S4yRY-b0a54eb9SwgJ_4Q0KvwW6FrbTXDr0BvMR0azHWF2tWFNp4A8ygfjARq_SjqDAqV-/s1600-h/P10508921%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050892" style="display: inline" alt="P1050892" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6H-qkTL8dGFx5Dy5PZpH4JF4H5gMRc7YGXZe5-qYnJyubT0RQTUKhRX_fpRcfox3s1fxtr_AHuK7cVzyoMuCkIoVAde5FRti8zlZAnofixkxq_yWrCDSSiviwsl1PKwmS0A8X2OMk2D1u/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-BmxRFO3cMtOPgoF0Dkxpp7Sjff-EvZ4wuGBZcoTZmyb73pkQIoqo6HgDb99I5ylVHqC1XSrM1-feQoi2nsnlXdiYPel-Rbjy4-0Dj8fVX7qPK5aaN7zx_vwru25ypxiG0sb41WvIFVRK/s1600-h/P10508931%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050893" style="display: inline" alt="P1050893" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXJ3BXPUncBVo0tMXQShyphenhyphensOsp6ykUpQGeh5-sARb2wJLhdYVN7dd1oDq0EG2w6JSonz0hEBX1HGfvXe-XpG6hijmR-_1aUhq1RYmUSkc2sbKM66UhSkXV73wLJl9C5Z6VcceQ203LMsSU4/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLw-syCHIkMMzjkCo2HAx1TyOJZ8z0tOOraAQvRbd-DpkPolWesaKNdFq4mK_SdoCJDVnLqIO7XWSFX6JnatXHCulLqhYqL_GiUN-sIbMZepyWrD1RuUVZmDGpI1jPYfVgcTHgOTYF9T4A/s1600-h/P10508941%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050894" style="display: inline" alt="P1050894" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7UrE7r-dMGZSatHptERJCw-xU93yV1x1ncKK0tWU_DIt7a_mSr67nkQP7kOvj29tg8BLpENmtC2hQBGa0K8ZP7sPzN-6dh6S_HfWb_r0_-PR-wAcy8OcgBjjX3nhdI4bQJ2yBpHKyrL1/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilXx_ch9pdRuxyaXq-CwBOaEeZ2nkJJGo8yQH_TMcSKEDNXmyXSwNXgjvI8KOBzWuRsw8MlpOZzdZ1eNLftAdZTIQ04RFSFHaMQ2hvVnffR-mA8DCvCe0KaSeyFrsvkNcfgFC5Zyd1SM46/s1600-h/P10508951%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050895" style="display: inline" alt="P1050895" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7XgO8Vuh-FLELPQmKqmhD_BHhuoRmtN4z6kp7ulAZ6kt3hizBs2dgdlXzgkL7Y14Om1rTe_wnJ_cJVp6_LenyDlnvDkJ0RLOOujKBDNj5sl67Rddze1QnpmwL7FP4JKGzJVmSYEL3FfT/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAPLgMBkRUS7MCVuRXXAx_ve3YhJmrBHqf1DdvrqLivctRQbhT8oDkLEAulr5WkY3Hvk-A3L_p26mvEcEktF3ypkrGCGxufOPaItmpC1RNHcNJmvuxEkY9XQtD_iro94IieRP5A-aq2daK/s1600-h/P10508961%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050896" style="display: inline" alt="P1050896" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFWs7dp3sVL1y4YvV5ddyWj7WJpBpdk1_301F-tj0qORpxbRZtZHyt539S-ZmvGzm89tWF0ct2GpuloUIomeCqzsLJT_TGeAiIwF5OYXwYHS884hW9hKXJxAyN867SD_wJ8XNRC2jjJ8Hn/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizKm4ZUAFlMpMLth_mJOWQGed0kjZ1TeSPSmX9drTt39YCfF8AATbgoUuhhPR5uNqztQLMq6mb895YTT2KtpRXg6Fg3AeFxdNgacXc-9uNQXlX86jP6olLG0e2ZNh7jRFvNIJlDxGs6bWv/s1600-h/PANO_20130713_155122%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130713_155122" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130713_155122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitKyFXHh5Kda5x8CzAn4fPrloJqhaU1AO_D1jKMbR03grMr1Nmr1iKcQGdvr6jX68PEBLw3feVpnAUiY61G03nBPszRjenYsf4AFFgY-bOCpH4c0s6ig1TaP3P8VEV-pc46PNb3YbsOY-i/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="180" /></a></p> <p>While the place is indeed beautiful and very impressive, for some reason, I started feeling anxious.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I’m not saying that religion is a bad idea. I’m not saying it’s a good idea, either. “Live and let live” is my motto: as long as you let me live by my own values, and as long as your lifestyle doesn’t violate my rights, I really don’t care how you believe the world was created, or who (or what) God is. Whatever floats your boat, really.</p> <p>My problem is with religious “authorities”. It appears as if religion is such complex an idea, that people often seek some sort of an “authority” to tell them exactly what they should be thinking or doing. This, however, is a slippery slope: people who take religious authorities too seriously can quickly become controlled by said authorities. If you are used to some authority always preaching to you and telling you what you should and should not do, you are likely to, eventually, lose the ability to question such authority. You then blindly follow whatever someone else says.</p> <p>And <em>that</em> is where things go awry. Too many crimes against humanity were committed in the name of religion. Religion, by being preached to billions of people, became a tool to differentiate between people rather than uniting them. Competition between different religions (and different groups of people having different interpretation to the same religion!) led to terrible wars and millions over millions dead.</p> <p>Why? because “some authority” decided that religion is an idea worth killing for.</p> <p>What I say is simple: the moment you (either directly, or indirectly through some sort of a preacher) decide that someone else’s life is less precious than your own because of religion‐related factors, you don’t belong in my society anymore. For all I care, life is more important than any sort of deity, be it called God, Jehovah, Allah, Buddha or <em>E=mc<sup>2</sup></em>.</p> <p>The moment some else’s life becomes less worthy in your eyes because of your spiritual belief, your spiritual belief is immediately rendered as complete and total garbage: please commit yourself to an asylum and relieve us from your presence, thank you.</p> <p>That explains, in a nutshell, why I become slightly anxious when I get to think about religious authorities of any sort.</p> <p>And I won’t even get started with the Catholic Church’s issues with child molestation, their divisive and hate‐mongering approach towards homosexuality, female rights and so forth. There comes a person, delegitimizes people based on his interpretation of the “holy books”, and in the same sentence calls for peace and unity. The only people stupider than such abusive “authority” is those who blindly subject themselves to it.</p> </div> <p>In the Vatican City, there usually is a long line for visiting Saint Peter’s Basilica. Standing in line for hours is not something I’m capable of doing without losing my mind, let alone on concert day; therefore, after about 10 minutes wandering around Saint Peter’s square, we left the scene and headed back to the metro.</p> <p>Like many other touristic locations in Europe, many streets in Rome are laden with individuals who sell possibly‐stolen, possibly‐fake, definitely‐illegal fashion goods on the sidewalks. Goods are being placed on some sort of a blanket; upon noticing a police officer, all goods are wrapped into one big bag in a matter of a couple of seconds, and all you get to see are innocent‐looking people walking around with strange big bags hanging off their shoulders. The first time I saw it was in <a href="http://blog.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/08/from-spain-back-home.html">Barcelona in 2010</a>, a few days after the end of the 2010 Get Lucky tour as I stayed an extra few days in Barcelona to unwind.</p> <p>From the metro, it’s a long ride (including a metro line change) to get to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colosseum">Colosseum</a>. Now <em>there’s</em> history for you. What a magnificent sight. Seeing it in pictures and in movies really doesn’t do the trick: you need to be there to fully grasp the magnitude of this thing. I took so many photographs trying to capture how amazing this thing is in real life… almost consistently failing.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzuLQYtgYzLHAcZE2Pbh4ZOstji8Oq-5mV9nhMrUoffG3q6LrZiLEUN01HL9egyhHei7WMOQCOH7xD3BbkMNYyRWyKXH1_ac08TD8U9po_HqtBzexiQ-3iKEFziv6bHQi8Xq0P1qR7VyCU/s1600-h/PANO_20130713_163754%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130713_163754" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130713_163754" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhA9zFv63acxd7CYKfhZvXqPlXAnBeNqZ4qn9bmiPGcShdPfjjZM0g40WoqOvdsiF0ZWkIyQW4gZiBjP1r8cnRbbJoxy8lTxVZpppuxScyNgO_TNxNFo37ZEfmMl5lWGjpyiZF-el-oQE5/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="494" /></a></p> <p>The place was, of course, filled with tourists. The Colosseum, mind you, is not the only piece of history in the area: Rome’s history dates back about 2,500 years, and, to this day, contains numerous important historical sites. I love places that are rich with history, which is why I often visit the city of Jerusalem whenever I’m home for a visit. I’m not even going to try to cover a fraction of Rome’s history in this blog—there’s simply too much to say. But one thing is for sure: you need to be there to believe it. No still photograph and no video can ever do justice to the immense ancient beauty that Rome has to offer.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi21CKAqHKwXs_3k-XoHf_oBIpMispeuKQd3xA72BgDETYG-V6aornENokpsa9HJRMok0R3LH-W8RHi2W5t6jrfK7kn_pgFg_bMVQcBngUGzXja02fzI0yUEDn2ZJzAiAUQKhWSeQ9Hntmb/s1600-h/PANO_20130713_165143%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130713_165143" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130713_165143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-9ZTiwz8J_fB8aZWigYZQ8R1ehuSad9CweM56RDgk4DdeANVHvXK4ke_IXeM2lIz4GWyttF0AINHbG-PO7nMDm03XsINCpIrn6bOR5VLor7fZIlLpCDFEtw3mKZ8I9MFIjEkjKlOkpD6U/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="178" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2CG2DZuDHPGXWs_YQeY0xDyK-15Ruw1rl8Em33jJY0Ybyv3A7EnDzok9RAaK6CaK1cWrDJUSvcoWtdhL3YG1CrsoUCv8KuxZlI-EkU3w57eqvYZK25YGiWW1cbVnTqKGNbP5FlwMC0YjV/s1600-h/PANO_20130713_164439%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130713_164439" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130713_164439" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ip1GCvBFzzHr0g71ClSKLBo1yA6uoTp7shXTEebGmbga-x_iyhRn5iIfsFPLbGsj3U1vRQ7l-YPe0L9-rGFOmZnzZuhCcRGCZ627lExj454hUkxaSveHhpOVdNZxPMc32pO836Jxkebu/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="170" /></a></p> <p>(I took the last panoramic one just for that kissing couple.)</p> <p>Rome, therefore, has been added to my list of places to revisit in the future—not an easy list to get into, as I have been to so many places already and I have to be very picky.</p> <p>The weather was too hot to bear so decided to go back to the hotel and chill out. I knew it was going to be a long day still: the concert was scheduled to start at 9:00pm, and getting back from the venue to the city center was still a big question mark (we’ll get to that later).</p> <p>The hotel offers a nice terrace on top, offering fantastic panoramic views.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4wrJR2zFJamSgklptBrhAV-Ih4J4OitWEILAp_-JJxarVmbPhFonKQF2qEICcsK44cehhxWYS2JCmbKm1Y3AbbN2Tjvb5VchviZxCfn9fJ1zNneGTFnv_mdv8WMThQVJICLzDEZMH8pb/s1600-h/PANO_20130713_181619%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130713_181619" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130713_181619" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVVP01Hs8MAxtbgrw0GDeAI4XLsYoMiyc_cbQsEu4VpXjVNOzHC2FwJ29tTgbTiub5ige2mKpuyy81MYCk0rkANd0_vEUhlJo638195c3w78DrLYQygSB3ih29SuNvh-M9rQQWjTJOo9gE/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpNJUgPZiSs_vHcH1D-MVVvo88bBG5vdSZZlPo_yMj1SUzzqo-2AkpwFHaugBoaoE5vxWvZavIlD5kDzsceAiTPzdFDD1xCY8AAYumBqeMENlbQe6cgtBRrSFrsfwi9oZ1cyNCvZIMSXTY/s1600-h/P10509101%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050910" style="display: inline" alt="P1050910" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQPC6G1I6yZcYkWyUIU4Yb0Bn1UpYcuF0YWCdMUe7_ARLb98TQi5pIxtjhp3vZkD8X2N11GyqlwgTX18eNsnYeOPMZJf9JYXmKpFngk5-EggnSnwwjwNQSECLpN1hgQBYNmtyIQCiq5JSV/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi7IIUl_5lwjxmQ5DhZwwH8oyqfHCKjrSX2hUItwjJAlYvGYDgLnHAH9sTYEuEfwn-6kLHAzH0OLG-glAhxeP7g1tcgsMfmCBR1N9iq2PLpiPmi8FXZIrLgBPDge0uQMDiHqq5ExJEQT-P/s1600-h/P10509121%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050912" style="display: inline" alt="P1050912" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhiM8FlrRLVSA7D8C-F3zn3Ag2vQCGe1oRda0e2SkH606w7K0PVS5pfWHy7f0tOSmIrPms_mUr5eKS93Bd_9m3dZjuFq6zdQf7W9LBQ_CsRG0zz7p77uWM0agec3FvkplUCzyX6QcsMox/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAH05T2zv7ptSrL2BCoQqW-4mh7ZLCCutCtoRQRpKpgsHdPQflAOOVUkGDrdxDWILU_nUODaAbREFpnWz1m1bmfrsZfGprV2GnoK2VTjvSJmdIFJEHq8g1yZwpJAK53N9rWGoF6YEXw3X_/s1600-h/P10509131%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050913" style="display: inline" alt="P1050913" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAll3f5xJ89zLd2RlQdz2VDx5d7rPbf0mlbsM1rHQDzq7r0WsAT3jUV6Arii4CyfyQ8BAMHOi2WErfyBwV4dhalqN66QiKiEI_ppBL0Up53sglinSO8YlRWWBZCTVMBtbEnaQmqb2KJX3c/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDKgSLYzpe_D4AzGv4uC8gzLPoCWusa1sD-COVJYzdWUPlEjpptP7HB7wR8bJr_ouJOp3-JJif5NvdGPM2OYUQ3gQvFfwu6UJwqfujQGILPhEQ_erTpvIR2Y8hfFc2MQQnVAKC4GKkiZkv/s1600-h/P10509141%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050914" style="display: inline" alt="P1050914" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJ3hGhq0N5nTH3JdXlZSfGHTwb0COUqCMgP2siSnRz6fpJhUxfpEVMG3Zs9AAvyZX5ABy-4o3RgeSydyjIcqZRYZC1Np-Qz9QPKN7YDq9Xm42LVN3Qx4KyKcMPu6oC_BbBU4NuX63eIiK/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Back to the room, to get some rest, and then off to the venue.</p> <hr /> <p>The venue, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capannelle_Racecourse">Ippodromo Capannelle</a>, is—listen to this—a <em>horse racecourse</em>. There’s a first time for everything, I guess: more than two hundred times watching this band perform, and I never thought I’ll watch a concert in a horse racecourse. I didn’t know it was a racecourse before arriving, though; all I knew was the venue’s name and that <em>Bruce Springsteen</em> performed there a few days earlier.</p> <p>The problem with the venue, though, was its location: the venue is located about 20km away from Rome’s city center. To get there, you need to take the metro almost all the way east, and then take a bus. An annoyance, but not a huge problem: the problem is getting back to the city center. While the metro in Rome is active until very late at night, buses become less and less frequent. Due to the huge distance involved, walking back to the hotel is not an option: missing the metro and/or the bus would mean having to hail a taxi, which is very hard to do on the spot due to how taxis work in Italy (you have to call them first).</p> <p>Arrived at the venue, and the first thing done was to ensure we know where the departing bus leaves from. That’s much easier done in daylight than otherwise. Once done, headed to the venue, collected tickets and entered.</p> <p>Italians love their scooters…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmtSr23PCyIDHA2d2TGdLcsWfoGF3nLH0WDQgoIeKI640UtlA3HxfZOy9j09K0MW4GLs0qr1_xgVK2AJltPQZLR7-EJB_7p977DqWvmMOLG8cX44LLQxRAzCDip2bFer18RhOYS8nmlWpT/s1600-h/IMG_20461%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_2046" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2046" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2cr_PqjvQLXSPlS4UOeFAmBYmWhn441gonGKU_Eil-xwwX_toKLlmUAKDlq-JTFWIbNjAZ1i3aQ-bZ3CeMkHA0xEW-JchIU3L5amPi-XgdbyXLD20YwUOs5JCm8aKByKb3xgEttMQCQ3/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig2bomAxpq5sTkuPQpMUkIKtKRRa2D0vL1PIkl9kBnDKHsP64FC3Y0StWA5p12C_BSedpeAOWm-BAuu0oNVUcyHZxppShuJuzNDSwxDQA0SMUpFgG52cO6xgTJxvf6d_1TRfQuQQAtwqcr/s1600-h/IMG_20471%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_2047" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2047" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAyL5h9w9eDUQQouyGbgIxXbv1OUVEeWtnRjs_bcj5T2Iatmqpngz1khROn9TYfOC_rUt0Waqy44Eo14WEl5TmlwszwrYwtT-Sw82HP-ri1iRyb_BuV1rQhJ9UPyrrfRlmlETF-UdStyUn/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3ciY9BDjRkZoFNUqq6pXTu2q-rDe78V6gcDyUa20WUVm4ZKXYUIa3QKAsm6W8VISGA-JYT8CQ_H0_e_miukGCDwH9geyiodtq_ROBFn_rKxWy7O2Sn9CZq-TBw_4ELen5O-R-1rRsdg9/s1600-h/PANO_20130713_201854%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130713_201854" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130713_201854" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaD79MbNeuLSU1Dodu4BK2LxqkDflY2SajfCKMFWKa2nOzvk5tVCCAFgCycK8NXmAxQCDqCAT47dNd16fDyfJMM_qIUF_WOnSCjAOkrWEUVc8uKCgqsdYA4QGr2wHXMHKu98GAtS_zkFwl/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="217" /></a></p> <p>Once inside, before arriving to where the concert was actually going to take place, there were many food and drink stands, plus a few “rooms” dedicated to particular products for the sake of promotion (<em>Samsung</em>, for example, had a “room” there to promote their <em>S4</em> device). Some band played “music” to the “pleasure” of passer byers. Torture. A couple of minutes walk through this nonsense and arrived at this.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4cKBpvwq95pgWPKOBfM3o7aZNr5JMRKRXZULkseX_2FbQg5Anp0s3PC2mgbt1Qzw0T3qj5k_3L8D2XOjpXQOCJ_Z-snHj37GPmpCfwaycp1aSvCDpIlaHQnjrbl14PvmVpyjkgUBHO5cA/s1600-h/IMG_20501%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_2050" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnCMXeOyW4J2d6e_ihyI8Qec_eFnvMr2QL5Oe64hiiRtJN_ckxe3yDrpRpOfRuX_3ZTyZ2A1gcnYtPOkvTaj58yAsdyPVOrXaxxOmSaqadGwqmtlhqi4qZ0Dbj499qycnJwpvUuQnXoii/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33CLqMgHvgyLLTDdxCwaBAsmFkxSsMsspa9K_wzZV4U0chWTwEi9-NYI8XbcGJgiSwjUc2XV4guRas6SDuM3GdwW1SHPFe68D-EEDm7U2bVO7-XCls5rYtH51psHlXOcxnIE4Gv1tdEBC/s1600-h/IMG_20511%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_2051" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2051" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMcdbd8MkkcOaQry5fjQfM-rBlJRhkX2dEwKoIC8ZSbKwgBSYuw0wD7DkvZfZFjXzIeek08ySeFzfIzAgCEBG7g6vre9qStmyT1mk26WoDVtd5XzpDycsjaxoYDc96Z8EQIrhNZchd4wzQ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4WCsPBtBKPCUfXJz1qFf6Ij0WnCPR64JkpitUd2C77fp-4xHm6KNkKaSeFZv0wH8ZxV6_wxFcP6-yRYvKEcgk32GPqxqNquVxeqjyrPt3WYkY75UwVBvN4s7gu2K9JmHywLbSCFIE_bae/s1600-h/IMG_20521%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_2052" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2052" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0UuG0p2fS7UAEvascaECEp_a-kTYMamVQFde14A4fjnOqMSXDdGiBiaDZsjFbh-XfNmaRGut0TrYh7Xl2qp9N_Vf_D7i5Z5V-sTJ0lbCQ7abMvUVb3JtKtvVIsm63YdoHW11qItRRAaik/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwGzHMPN5FaPssG-5AHCYpKVBv-VZADyDLDYwXcYy6MX5FJ8EWjr-FzhMhCgaYnQy9kWINLhOwRN6Xefpv0cnjTp2CFNxhgkd38-sI_pf19REvu-RK1j3eT277mFAq-QYi5p1zI66W-Xlw/s1600-h/IMG_20531%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_2053" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2053" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOWslWOYzEdhtC0BngOQrw78QhyphenhyphenEWnpdCeyah33flROCRlKigDyB0s21uxbr42P1z9ANiG6dTKS1fzNYobJBW7R3gNxRwSqgog5ikWiDhaINWeLsovFzFZhQMl5Xhn8JDwHbO_0zi5z5L-/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikHPId5IIoCFmMf22A2CreIuQIVJ0O779hwtjX3wfG5K9HBxKzdE9PDXhHUz-wihGdXG0ccCLE6-VeBLREibcYkS0idBYycCFxaq6fUGrZWWb2toe0aUlg0vde5nusyx1KvPyDovQ-ookJ/s1600-h/PANO_20130713_202313%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130713_202313" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130713_202313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxAdBMCbhcQicvhvQXhW5HWfBh3eZWOV26HE8pGN0RyTnBRmIf3gJE07-CvnoMXHaTin4Y2_zgbOFp91Z818PdaA_lM-iWat9JKENvBrtW97_Q_QhgusJ72vN1NerWOQtYH2fwBGfNxqIr/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="271" /></a></p> <p>It was then when I realized that the venue is a horse racecourse.</p> <p><em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket purchasers were allowed early entry to the venue, a privilege I was very happy to forfeit. I opted, instead, at watching and listening to the concert from the very back, as the Dutchman held a convenient spot closer to the stage, leaning against one of the drink stands.</p> <p>How far back did I go? as far as I could possibly go. At the far back, there were a few benches. Laid down on one and listened to a part of the concert looking at the sky. What a relaxing, great experience! sound was not bad at all, too—even fifty meters away or more from the stage.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPM1yt6XHBlXIeoG1yY8c7QQyi4kVphVAAqMZaOVutHFe4EqL16h-6we2u03R34nj0zvlYblM_rk_-PB4TqGOJRIID2uBZ_c8dx1t-39dYpATMWg4IfeA5wVO9f03Eym61wTpiS0VkqiHi/s1600-h/IMG_20671%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_2067" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2067" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3VFkFfLQ7vRhOEuiMJUI_M91JnKqsQM25rF-BZBuS36I9ZMcoF1ZindcaM5EwQ45YnRX3ucLzBRkPTHFfdlEnUcyELaU-eYpIwS4XsDUdDArIOq2chHJDZuL6cz9OE1HR-qYDLkTnhYKQ/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="367" /></a></p> <p>The concert ended at around 11:30pm and we were the first ones to leave the venue. We were in a hurry to the bus station—in such a hurry, actually, that we left the venue’s area seconds after the band did. The bus was supposed to arrive at around 11:40pm, and nobody wanted to take chances.</p> <p>Of course, the bus didn’t show up around 11:40pm. As time went by, more and more people arrived at the station, each one wondering where the hell the bus was. A different bus, also headed to the city center, drove by the station without stopping.</p> <p>The last thing you want happening after a concert is to be stranded 20km away from your hotel. It was slightly comforting, though, to realize that many other people were waiting for the very same bus: it meant that there was a good reason to believe that the bus will arrive <em>eventually</em>, which it did—about half an hour late.</p> <p>Stormed into the bus as if I was getting out of jail. Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at a metro station, just in time to catch the train back to the city center.</p> <p>It was late—around 1:00am—when we arrived back at the city center. The next day’s travel schedule was going to be easy, so it was decided to see some of Rome at night. The city’s streets were far from being devoid of humans: it was Saturday night, and Italians don’t seem to believe in sleeping at nights to begin with. Many bars, pubs, clubs were open, and people—old as young—seemed to be having fun.</p> <p>Not far from the hotel, there’s the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trevi_Fountain">Trevi Fountain</a>. What a magnificent sight at night. Being one of the more famous touristic attraction in Rome, there were many tourists and local nearby the fountain, having a good time at the immediate vicinity of this masterpiece.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKV078qOLlQD3b7dzWMOAZfKWnvMxS4EbdXhZc1wJX7c56EJHT-0o5nePe1kOdoeCY7l_Lo7BPZVhHDPoT4WUvqAN9Xv7f64WOtQIQ_Gy9QYn1k2hocJufSDz_FP0Zd3wsKCe38KLEqCY/s1600-h/IMG_20681%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_2068" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2068" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQnzoRTiLyQszSGFd1Zybe3Q6tI6w9J1y7oWWDmsbD6is0nDf9JhlbdR2VhpWjEOAMDV3WTNnwS2JqpilLMIxM-UwPUMCVzzeeb1Fo4IvH5wx6V4z3uWg2fAH7E_TsiJI_oPpqGlxQrg_w/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XQmEeraSepUhyphenhyphen852xZf7K06ghK5t5dAEX__OO3YfGPhhEcmkDnYNNF2DXAiT9xdu77PMEHoDx_PE06fI-xPMVsWg3gGThU58GOH_ocSjw6VxEFnSDxIy0gJZNmsBg6Q5GccnGQKjSpI0/s1600-h/IMG_20711%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_2071" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_2071" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikx00GRIrrMu-Zpi8JvPX1W-bg3uaSaxeqEs5qIYIc42KdvAAfl6GbqbMQQGUq-5zIWu70W4pOhcK5lyJDEnQVD1Kxr6WOSie_GcxO2IrIuQEjbNXCvnWczJVBrm0KMXymTGy-oEyDJtXL/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Tired… headed back to the hotel and crashed into bed.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from Napoli’s airport, waiting to board a flight to Catania.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-79405459949864712982013-07-14T17:01:00.001-07:002013-07-14T17:01:25.426-07:00A Sign of Life from Italy<p>The last few days were just too insane. The tour’s current leg in Italy involves a lot of insane travel, late shows, complete insanity when it comes to getting to and from venues… almost no time to write at all.</p> <p>2:00am now, after the concert in Napoli. Day off tomorrow, I’ll try to catch up then.</p> <p>Night.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-76476682047465319502013-07-12T08:13:00.001-07:002013-09-10T12:52:04.439-07:00Nîmes, France to Locarno, Switzerland (July 10–11, 2013)<p>After great two days in Nîmes—following great two days in Stuttgart—it was time to decamp and travel north east, for another expected great two days in Locarno. When following such a tour, you learn to appreciate and embrace time periods that involve no travel: travelling by train is more tiring than not travelling at all, even when you travel in 1<sup>st</sup> class cabins all the time. Being able to wake up whenever you want without subjecting yourself to the whims of alarm clocks… savour these mornings.</p> <p>The punishment: wake up early enough to grab breakfast at the hotel and make it to Nîmes’ central railway station to catch the 7:29am train heading to Lyon; about an hour connection time, then catch the 10:04am train heading to Mulhouse Ville; ten minutes connection time, then catch the 1:07pm train to Basel; and lastly, about 40 minutes connection time, then catch the 2:04pm train to Locarno.</p> <p>I’ll save you the math: it’s just under 11 hours of travel, over four different trains. Three of the trains were TGV, so I knew that travel wouldn’t be <em>that</em> hard anyway: TGV’s 1<sup>st</sup> class cabins are excellent—spacious and comfortable. It’s the last leg—the four hours ride from Basel to Locarno—that I wasn’t sure about: the train’s code began with “IR”, and while I might have ridden one during the last tour, I couldn’t remember anything about it.</p> <p>Long, long travel day, one of the longest ones in the tour.</p> <p>The first layover in Lyon was used to look for, and buy, packed lunch of some sort. The next opportunity to do so would be in Basel, which would be too late as I’d starve to death by then. Exiting the station, it was decided to go for a safe bet: the good old American mega food corporation of <em>Subway</em> has a shop conveniently located right outside <em>Lyon Part Dieu</em>.</p> <p>After much debate, it was decided to buy two types of sandwiches—two “foot long” ones—and share them. As the sandwich connoisseur was completing working his magic on the second sandwich, and we were debating between ourselves how on earth we were going to divide the two sandwiches so we can share them (if you have ever been to <em>Subway</em> before, and know how they pack sandwiches to go, then you should be familiar with the challenge we were facing), the Dutchman decided to start the day with a giant leap over language barriers.</p> <p>– “I am going to ask him to cut each sandwich in half, separate the halves, mix them and pack them.”</p> <p>“<em>Yeah, right</em>”, I thought to myself.</p> <p>– “Yeah, right”, I then said out loud.</p> <p>– “What?”</p> <p>– “Do you speak French?”, I asked a rhetorical question.</p> <p>– “No, but we’ll see how it goes.”</p> <p>I was curious to see how this would work out, considering the language barrier and the fact that the Dutchman was going to assign an unusual task to an individual who lives in a country where bar owners often refuse to serve you cappuccino because “it takes too long to prepare”.</p> <p>The Dutchman then proceeded to explain his wish to the sandwich God in plain English. The sandwich God responded with one of the most vile, dumbfounded look I ever witnessed on the face of a Frenchman—but then, surprisingly, did exactly what he was asked to, no questions asked.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Some of you may wonder why I was so surprised to see that this minutiae worked out just fine. Well, some background information is needed: I live in North America. While exceptions exist (of course), people in North America whose jobs involve a great deal of routine work tend to perform their duties “by the book”: any request for a slight deviation from what they have been trained to think of as “standard” is perceived with a great deal of suspicion and helplessness. There are strong reasons for such mentality, concerned with strong obedience to authority; I have done a lot of reading on the subject and I’d recommend that you do, too. Fascinating subject.</p> </div> <p>Sandwiches grabbed, and backtracked a few steps to a nearby cafe, to kill some half an hour left to departure. Lovely lady barista eagerly tried to convince me to add some sugar to my specialty cold cappuccino—smiling all throughout—that I was starting to think she might be flirting. Then again, I have no idea how flirting works and I couldn’t tell when a lady flirts with me even if she smacked my face with her bra. At any rate, I was never persuaded so strongly to add sugar to my drink.</p> <p>Back to the platform, off to the next train… arrived at Mulhouse, off the train, back to another platform, hopped on another train… then arrived at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basel_SBB_railway_station">Basel SBB</a> for a much awaited forty minutes break.</p> <p>The black wrist brace I had bought in Vienna started wearing out, as the Velcro there wouldn’t attach well anymore. That, combined with my decision to be more conservative about how I treat this wrist of mine, prompted me to try something else—a firmer brace, one of those featuring a metal bracket that prevents you from bending your wrist altogether. Luckily, this is Switzerland, and in Switzerland there appears to be a pharmacy in every block; expectedly, there was one in the train station itself. Quite a few Euros later and I was the proud owner of a beige wrist trap.</p> <p>Back to the platform for the last train for the day. Those “IR” trains… who knows what they are made of? would there be 1<sup>st</sup> class cabins at all? are they crowded? air conditioned? how would the next four hours look like?…</p> <p>… Senseless fears. That train ride turned out to be the best train ride in the tour so far. Modern, spotless 1<sup>st</sup> class cabin with panoramic windows—almost floor to ceiling—and for a good reason: the ride from Basel to Locarno is really, really, <em>really</em> scenic, once you leave the big city and head south east.</p> <p>How scenic? well, I was very busy writing the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/the-200th-stuttgart-germany-to-nimes.html">previous post</a>, and still, at times, I just couldn’t let go of my camera. Memories of British Columbia kept creeping in—mountains, valleys, snowy peaks, gorgeous lakes. The same British Columbia that is my home, and that I chose to leave for 3+ months to wander around European destinations of all sorts. The more natural scenery my eyes transmitted to my brain, the happier I was that the tour is coming to an end, and in three weeks time, I’ll be home again.</p> <p>Time for some pictures.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyfPzkpA9MQrPXdi52IkhSbjT5PaDxuuUgqTkokMHj7Ll4pLMZVUFMPeR5QEMRANaHReqhk0L2ODJ5spBu0_2QFncN_B6DdOICmPG90Pq-3N-4hfufUiCQwsrqrJD7PJVE3pqR4Fu-1fOf/s1600-h/IMG_20130710_153707.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130710_153707" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130710_153707" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvl3Z79xUqMbBNAyZlrp1XbXlDaM5Umal-E45QqST0u3cJQcGE16bxQUjrbumWgB3Io-Z_7rKWzMoquaC2q4J5C891VcwR9vqHM-tCqWN555Bzhr0o-5sLjldO4OMi4n7GyEpZt0T_6_j3/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a 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src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8dx5bpcT7jtqw3vcjGQgEG2VgwfMIwA_AguGshzCEHXlS8YIELrQg0Fw8h-5aYJtCZg5qkE_X6J8tIFjZ0yixPuZ6vL2djsuQd8-ikmePUAWRCuAOQiXJeiNTptaV2bT5zxxYlsUDHOlz/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTkj3-F-BCTSM-ltDKRVhe_Iv0qrT8XfwjC-ePTTl4_JSr4VYBGO4LY0aQ8KiyJQdKi0l8PSoJ5rM7QiXkmh-rQP_pqKvUJBJB_2v2EWM4j7UD5roiOPRj_YbpSJYeGfPthfGkHqpWlhG_/s1600-h/P10507825%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050782" style="display: inline" alt="P1050782" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXeAN5l8oNVciJkivEqTXBPR1B2229ySlQnmzmKygwaQV0AoIOsJm4mVTWJhPKtnp_gMCkO2NL3XVh6exzwR7Kqi6jGb3EKlsVErzX6EeZbXChxbvmILuhgikK6KI-xd99yc8VMWgkcr0o/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiURB-keINsViOpNXGM6qSQLlsmbZhJDG1DtEWruGmYH-zr9DjXyiwBlqXVY-0XZ-uTYUl0205ZTtVAAzQkJwJUTrtXL8uVXNWbq0iLczrRBonUtl2ilktpQYfxAHQZ8_1JcY04cuODFxI6/s1600-h/P10507835%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050783" style="display: inline" alt="P1050783" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifc23uRURRsWPEKCPEWjy15ymgbOUPMNZT4FZ7g0KV-LpeGUvwFzQ_NjPkSgiV-7wQDSosZhhl-QGw9YZi6_eEQxgdmLk1iLiFkub8oruKm3C39Ey7FORHfspvd_GgjJgenWJ0YRAaQ-uC/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlA5Ubhrpi7QGCxKriHW87iSgpGlzUiv_xkeLrp9-IgZ4BjVVZaZZu_a92pG-LhW14UVyV16jCHvoNBKRzM_Eg0wB0ZVNPWJppZc0HbYM2WiwybLdRpNVRxIMW9JhgxMikezfG4YuayfeG/s1600-h/P10507865%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050786" style="display: inline" alt="P1050786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv8uREqCg8SyBf0_jtraa4_kRIzYegS0SicVEL0hMHlhZlUh0dYkmXdb-VeoT-6x3oVsDawhWhUhD2pYh3bP5-uf8micg7m6wvKulxCqOLZ8uCbvGn0yk6WCucoILDbrKPp9unmBIH7kT4/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>With scenery like that, and the 1<sup>st</sup> class cabin being almost completely devoid of other people, it’s no wonder that the four hours train ride passed quickly. At 6:13pm, finally arrived at Locarno’s central railway station.</p> <hr /> <p><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locarno">Locarno</a> is located at the foot of the Swiss Alps. About 15,000 people live in this tiny town, and some might say that these are 15,000 exceptionally lucky people: it only happens that Locarno is a very popular tourist destination, as people from Switzerland, Germany and Italy flood its streets year round. Why? well, it is, as written before, located at the foot of the Swiss Alps; plus, we are talking about an immensely picturesque place.</p> <p>Amazing natural scenery aside, the city <em>itself</em> is beautiful, featuring beautiful, colourful houses, narrow streets and a great deal of history. Now, that scenery that we had put aside before… add it back into the picture, and you get a total eye‐candy of a place.</p> <p>Much of the Locarno’s beauty has to do with the fact that the town lies on the shore of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Maggiore">Lake Maggiore</a>. This huge lake, shared between Switzerland and Italy, boasts clear water that blend perfectly with the beautiful mountains all around. You need to see it to understand just how majestic that entire natural ordeal is.</p> <p>And, of course, seeing it from an altitude of 1,340m may just be the best way to go about doing so.</p> <p><a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-piazza-grande-locarno.html">I have been to Locarno before</a>, during the 2010 Get Lucky tour. During that tour, I was in the bad habit of planning my itinerary while on the go, resulting in a financial catastrophe in Locarno: ended up booking an outrageously expensive room in a mediocre hotel with no air conditioning at all, right by Lake Maggiore: that’s what happens when you book accommodations in short notice for staying in a Swiss resort town during one of the busiest periods in the year—the famous <a href="http://www.moonandstars.ch">Moon and Stars Festival</a>, taking place annually in mid‐July and attracting big names in the music industry.</p> <p>For this tour, however, planning was done well in advance. The problem, though, was that it was next to impossible to find rooms with two separate beds in them. Very few options came up, and after factoring in others’ reviews of these hotels, three options came up: one in a town neighbouring to Locarno (still, very close: about 3km away); one in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orselina">Orselina</a>, which is about 300 meters above Locarno, accessible by walk, car or a funicular; and one in Cardada, located even further up the mountain (1,340m above Locarno).</p> <p>The latter hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g1930516-d1835876-Reviews-Albergo_Cardada-Orselina_Ticino_Swiss_Alps.html">Albergo Cardada</a>, was shown to offer magnificent views over Locarno, Lake Maggiore and the surrounding mountains. There was one caveat, though: it is only accessible by a cable car, or walk. You can’t drive a car there.</p> <p>Considering the options, and figuring that it would be nice to spend a couple of days in a hotel offering such peaceful, magnificent views, it was decided to book Albergo Cardada: reasonably priced, and the views are fantastic. The hotel also received very good reviews, so why not?</p> <hr /> <p>A few weeks ago, I received an email from the hotel asking whether I’m going to be attending the Moon and Stars Festival. Odd question. I asked why, to which they replied that they were going to book a “special cable car” late at night for those who want to attend the festival and go back to the hotel afterwards.</p> <p>I shrugged. Well, sure, OK, put me down for this. In hindsight, though, the amount of details I neglected to look into turned out to be scary to the extent of ridiculousness. The fact that everything worked out at the end is a matter of mere luck.</p> <p>So, here’s how it goes: to get to the hotel from Locarno’s center, you need to take <em>two</em> methods of transit: first, you take a funicular to Orselina, and from there, you take a cable car to Cardada.</p> <p>The funicular from Locarno to Orselina operates daily between 7:00am to midnight, every 15 minutes (starting 8:00pm, every 30 minutes). Sounds reasonable, but things start getting scary when you consider the schedule of the cable car that takes you further up to Cardada: operating daily, from 8:00am to 8:15pm (!). If you miss that cable car, you have no way of arriving to the hotel except for walking, and we’re not talking about an easy walk in the park: the difference in altitude is about a kilometer. It is said to take about 3–4 hours to walk your way to the hotel.</p> <p>We didn’t know all of this.</p> <p>Instead, as soon as arrived to Locarno’s central railway station, we started looking for a place to eat. Locarno, being a resort town, is obnoxiously filled with dining options, most of which cater to tourists. Prices are stupidly high. Looking online, we found a vegetarian Indian restaurant by the name of <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g188094-d3254889-Reviews-Govinda-Locarno_Lake_Maggiore_Ticino_Swiss_Alps.html">Govinda</a>. Prices were so expensive that we ended up taking a one person’s meal and splitting it half way.</p> <p>Then, went back to the funicular station, paid and went up to Orselina. It’s a short 5 minutes ride up, then a short few meters walk to catch the cable car station to get you up to Cardada.</p> <p>By complete and utter luck, we were in time to catch the <em>very last cable car available for the day</em>; and we didn’t even know it.</p> <p>Arriving at the cable car station, there was nobody there. Knocked on the ticket office’s windows… no response. Knocked on the only door I could find there… no response. Ten minutes before the scheduled departure, someone finally made it to the receiving end of the counter. Good. Tickets purchased, and we waited by the entrance for the time to come.</p> <p>At 8:07pm, eight minutes before schedule, the cable car’s doors closed and it started making its way up.</p> <p>We were not in it.</p> <p>I approached the control window, where the dude controlling things was sitting and appeared to be pushing buttons. He noticed me and immediately had the look of “oh, crap” on his face. He looked up, pushed a few other buttons, and the cable car came back.</p> <p>Gee.</p> <p>Heading up to Cardada was… well… a lot of fun. I captured it all on video, and I might publish it on my Facebook page soon. It’s a very fast ride—the cable car reaches maximum speed of 10m/s, climbing to an altitude of 1,340m above Locarno in about 5 minutes. Not for the faint of heart, I tell you. With every second of the cable car climbing up, I got a better sense of what it would be like to be up there, watching the view.</p> <p>Cable car reached its destination. Doors opened, and the hotel was right there. Looked to my left, and saw the magic of mother nature right there—but it was cloudy so I didn’t bother taking pictures. Weather seemed to be worsening every minute, so the first order of business was to check in first, and see what was going on around later.</p> <p>Stepped into the hotel, which looked more like a gigantic two‐ or three‐level house. Checking in, I already got the idea of how things were going to look like interacting with these people: almost no ability to communicate in English whatsoever. Locarno’s official language is Italian (as it is located in the “Italian part” of Switzerland), and, despite what you might think, knowledge of the English language isn’t considered to be a “must have” here, even if you’re in the tourism business.</p> <p>Up to the room, which had three single beds and a playpen. Why a playpen? because I asked for one. No, just kidding: I didn’t ask for one. But a playpen was there. Also, all three or four rooms on that floor had access to one shared huge patio, offering excellent views of Lake Maggiore and the town of Locarno, far below.</p> <p>But first, before enjoying the Alpine air, some room setup is needed. Very awkwardly organized room, and what do you look for first when you’re setting yourself up in the room? That’s right: electricity sockets.</p> <p>Now, I wonder how many of you have ever encountered this:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6qZzfOilOj8TcLs6O5Naa854ccB6LXLfWjl8QdUFFezDLpoQjvZSzvtNP4WzyMYMB6MwUE_kmA2ApN0yUcgLGD12PjiGvfzFu12v7suHkek0G6swVnf7X0VKLANlYTvfQiZYFg8eqWxgc/s1600-h/IMG_19751%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1975" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1975" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibfutz4KjmuOZEsf-Oi_Dtz1ccWE7d-0RpEHQJ4aeIrCRniVKlSQr_JdRzDrIJ9ETxRJL905NZ5DVii1odDl94EqPPAO_X_lYNpGHflpw3Zwry8A3PzXLFcDOOD7UZeI4juBejH_xEVkKU/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>There were three of these in the room: one (pictured above) inconveniently located at the room’s entrance by the door; and one on each side of the two single beds that were attached together. The ones by the sides of the bed were behind the beds’ frames, and a round hole was sawn in the beds’ frames to allow access to them.</p> <p>It took us about 30 minutes to figure out how to optimally use those. These outlets look like they cater to all sorts of plug types, but they don’t. The holes are either too thin, or too close to each other, or too far apart. A “normal” European plug, consisting of two prongs, will <em>not</em> fit in all pairs: there’s a slight width difference between the various pairs, and it takes some trial an error to figure things out.</p> <p>Now, when one travels, one usually carries some sort of a socket adapter. My adapter was just too big to fit through the bed frame’s hole. That took five minutes to fight with until I gave up.</p> <p>The good thing about these sockets (and I can’t believe that I’m writing that there’s a <em>good thing</em> about these sockets. Probably the <em>only</em> good thing) is that you could fit three normal European 2‐prong plugs in one socket.</p> <p>Wi‐Fi connection took forever to work, as my devices kept stuck on the adapter’s “obtaining IP address” phase, which, in geek speak, means that the device is waiting for the router’s DHCP server to assign it with a unique NAT address; and in laymen terms, it means that the device is waiting for the Wi‐Fi router to “accept it”. That’s not uncommon in Wi‐Fi infrastructure setups that use cheap equipment that is geared towards home use.</p> <p>All the while, thunders were sounding around. Rain. Minutes later, a lightning. Electricity went down, and then back up again after a second. All electrics immediately plugged out from those fancy sockets—last thing I need was a lightning to burn my laptop and my phone.</p> <p>What a rush.</p> <p>Wi‐Fi down. That’s another common thing with low‐end routers: a sudden fluctuation in electricity may cause them to lose all touch with the world. Agreed with the Dutchman (actually, didn’t “agree”; I simply refused to go downstairs to speak to these people—all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed) that he steps downstairs to report the Wi‐Fi problem while I take a long shower to wash this long day off.</p> <p>Out of the shower, and I thought I’ll chat with my family for a bit. Still no Wi‐Fi. The Dutchman reported that he went downstairs to speak to the staff, but couldn’t quite explain to them what the problem is, as he couldn’t speak Italian.</p> <p>Whatever. What time is it? 10:00pm? good. I’m going to bed, good night.</p> <p>(Luckily, 3G connectivity was available.)</p> <hr /> <p>The next morning started much, <em>much</em> better. Beautiful weather. Quick wakeup procedure and downstairs for breakfast, not before taking a quick panoramic shot of the view from the room’s patio:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKyweyhHysZHk5NcObg-NYXPjXHqTeQuV9VrK1zyn3sW19YYTnX5164STrf8li3CT2pZDlq9SBr1pRbYVu2LKJIZEWEFVAFgFEyFAIvHwoxFX5fKaRYoO_elCq_-ZjNTPVAV_ZBdYuQvEo/s1600-h/PANO_20130711_084014%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130711_084014" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130711_084014" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj19jKhgnj9zMdRoAUTQMFXNdLyvxNBh_35XIxRmIEnZjCF4tnmlYySVNnyLTuzrxdU4gh25zJhWNhgKfwOehWNDFTvj7yjggMq9A55UzkLchRt-FHvj5Qnp3HewXpFoj8DJz7qFw6M8PZc/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="152" /></a></p> <p>The hotel offers a huge patio for breakfast, and in a sunny morning, that’s where most people I know would have liked to have their breakfast, and here is why.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ19eGv3__9h-bOxmCCGXPEoROvG_1-SVlbGXn4N9DYp4xGY34M4LXPmiOFO9ARte6mtVL7CS96gGr4rX3KkTW8-MrQ53VDOhZRNBcpPLpps3hZeeoLKyrRSak13-cYD7TWd9lU282g-IV/s1600-h/IMG_20130711_085630%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130711_085630" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130711_085630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5u6JQZ4uoDJ4X469qcu9IZWa8FHdmuDvTK3dKuzwAAcd1OmpPQjEL7NLy2p2f4BGxKYlozDIvEBWhGpzaYKUbrAIHBQNpFVK1Gd_akaBxzvc3BDb5PLC9yLFNaucd3KPIcJiMmTIAvYqY/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="369" /></a></p> <p>That was a sign that this was going to be a good day. Took my time with breakfast—I had nowhere to hurry to. Once done, went upstairs to bring my laptop so I could finish my previous post and upload it. Post finished, started uploading…</p> <p>And continued uploading…</p> <p>(All the while, I was wandering aimlessly around the patio just breathing pristine air.)</p> <p>And continued uploading…</p> <p>And then Wi‐Fi signal was lost.</p> <p><em>AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh</em></p> <p>Went back to the room and found out that there was no electricity at all. A quick calculation of cause and effect in my head led to the conclusion that Wi‐Fi was down simply because there was no electricity in the entire hotel.</p> <p>You know what? alright. Might be nice to disconnect from the grid. Packed a few bottles of water and an apple, and together with the Dutchman headed off to a nearby chairlift station: the plan was to take the chairlift to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cimetta">Cimetta</a>—even higher than where we already where—and hike down.</p> <p>Approaching the chairlift station, we noticed a bunch of people sitting on the stairs leading to the station, as well as on benches around. Hmmm, interesting.</p> <p>– “Can we buy tickets?”</p> <p>And the man on attendance there informed us that the chairlift doesn’t work at the moment due to a power outage. Apparently, one of the cables connecting Cardada with the main electricity grid went kaput.</p> <p>That’s not the kind of news you’d be happy to hear when you’re high up on a mountain with no way of getting down. I mean, I wouldn’t <em>that</em> mind it if there wasn’t a concert to attend, some nine hours later.</p> <p>After waiting about 20–30 minutes on site, electricity was still not restored. While it was possible to walk up the mountain, it was decided to return to the hotel and try again later.</p> <p>The hotel offers a few plastic beach‐like benches so you can sit (or lie down) and watch the view, basking in the sun. I was therefore forced to spend the next couple of hours like this:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidOwNdnVNBtt-q3uDAEmZDJBxZx39VxhfzUkqWLIyvBTzk-znXzAR61PW4V1A-xAaDKy1wd_WLt6OLeD-n3PmcWbe_DpVL-92102tlxMnafpm4YpngVn3hpalcUM68-ydX92MwulOpojBn/s1600-h/IMG_20130711_113343.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130711_113343" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130711_113343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib1o8ZOb2AmzzHvS37gKhuazti1vw2P3i2w002sIKCF4suwPyhepLOE5zOtmswkDuyJCwdritX62mCsLny5a0Kf2MYtwQYXZj9PeedxsqgObfDXk-97aYTrVDW7G0m3JxvraWH3j_19lN0/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I didn’t quite know whether I’m supposed to enjoy the total and complete serenity around, or get worried about the fact that electricity is out on that mountain and there’s no way down at all. I ended up striking a balance between the two. A quick discussion with the chairlift’s operator revealed that the cable car, connecting Cardada with Orselina below, gets its power supply from Orselina, so the power outage wouldn’t keep people stranded in the mountain. That being heard, I was able to enjoy the surroundings.</p> <p>Possibly the most relaxing couple of hours in the tour so far. It’s futile to attempt to describe, in words, the feeling you get when you’re sitting like this watching Mother Nature at its best, in perfect weather, breathing pristine air into your lungs; it’s either futile to try, or my English vocabulary isn’t rich enough.</p> <p>Either way, if you can, then I strongly suggest you try it at least once.</p> <p>Once I had enough of the sun, went back to the room and got a good nap. A long day was ahead, and I wasn’t going to spend it being tired: tried to gain as much energy as I could.</p> <p>Woke up… hey! what’s that? electricity is back! YES! Published that previous post and fled the scene to the chairlift.</p> <p>From the moment I sat on that chairlift, until I was back at the hotel an hour and a half later, I found it very difficult to let go of my camera. The views were insanely difficult to ignore. Everywhere you look, there’s a postcard opportunity. I took so many pictures, and writing this post now, I find it hard to filter them: almost all of them turned out really, <em>really</em> well. Here are some.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipl2TOc1GFUpCj2TPjS-0rXn7mwZchf1nxUbPgwMmrlfKk7f-dLjaBZ3JFZZupVKA5CILQYqdUAST-vH9dCaUeJLNu81jlhfGObhF2lVheP-z91xQFbozO509xfonfhDOuiKpv49hVZ-pb/s1600-h/PANO_20130711_153700%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130711_153700" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130711_153700" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-7dkHGHXO7Pk1FE1osJAKiD_mRuxiZgRzn_NsXY74K_qw3KvRqrmQFaerIZqmjZ2f_eIFJqZ2AGKmdxuWW-HAfY3-IkyGVhnUClO6ViYjbJBkv6Sjy-1mpVu6Cx-1D7waXJc9AuvWyTqW/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="160" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIlhVSAtivMGiv93pkzDDL6MdeuTD6H-UT7FSssro1hJPyGaNxEqTorRVqh2z9pXH8iDM1LIRN7lbhZ8KazPai7JG4GNbMoFO1AVgys21JWLWWs2lJB10tAfxqCczDOc_6jLl72wmUASd8/s1600-h/P10507971%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050797" style="display: inline" alt="P1050797" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwSwwyejJ1CwD7bhjiqouJkcIZRHO3dXJVDorQhnaVpo-Q2tYz0TsQglQteuxTHUwWj4UdXdmwlx9XXVdsljSWQuLwQquYl7SONvp6h28sEjawBjagbJd3WcPSHc7HrnKrNECbHEnJ5m4O/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaa2a6YMCoXaP0-F2JIvLVRstfA59JKKT53pMUs88Swyrm6MJgafXILDDHg3gvUWi8NrYinFwdl4nak2WoIiehsP2E5pJ9x5WyMf2Gyd2TcZ-zW29wMC_diTnx7HThFpYE_vjBdxYBVRGB/s1600-h/P10508011%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050801" style="display: inline" alt="P1050801" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDMoT0wGczhbiW25VEWV_zfhGNidwKPf9XWxtFie9AFJA53HMstr5J2zosvpe2I2LAQ4SNwJopYYE71duH6Jj3tTzhZ6bSGl-BuyjKyCih87g9DO78qC0VObjaAQuw58_U5vztmgtVBa9t/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPvXsYnqLcIEkZd9EDu-ohBlieDqjx6PRrgVE5LRa2IfCzQGqp7Cll6WUtl3zVksUpcvQijZPmCRNJIJlyqmKlr6_jpGck7YLXQIhqcnRI0FmXg2jIkYj78jxLZlSdLn_REU1RsKTCrvx0/s1600-h/P10508021%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050802" style="display: inline" alt="P1050802" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihyndgQSOxpy8qQCmgb5h6kL1cMTuFVzHu7ipD_OSwK9qvzCMvUwpDmOEyGzVvnDEJzF7-kIMgFrGo4TRonIJTrhlnGYPDji6U-pJyjO-73NPGMnU1Eyj1ate79oeZLNokYGcQEu48mjv/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4OXzKIaNQk-hCmBJiejHnSL4iF3bT7_UlDD1b4NSBqBS5cunVGmgIMYkB7Txg4xbhDvh0oDfaUWIxscPNoGmMtVVZi7U3kyRd8Kh0A2cIgdxaMfCDKKsFZ5vrdP0ypmC24KqmVikAQPJL/s1600-h/P10508031%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050803" style="display: inline" alt="P1050803" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-xWgvZd6xP-w7GRSM0ShTuzYhWq1woO3t9TgAbojswHEcCFHURs5jQQOVcnC6TWl3UobgJvunnCNQhvItgU3oW5DnKgRajHpQp0qIhKk4G6wu5hCIdKL89FFI2QqDZrSVgARKy1bc81or/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4iQKkiL5o0TtZn2EBSqecyvwylG1-6s33oVWIzdE8xclYx9hiHfHH78MQuMY5ZXv7ovrL-TiBDUmmI6vK8fQVhIunYnyxpvTfPpQ9Ff-csv4Q7ZjgtX19nv6cmur-jxGXjK9lTiseqT4y/s1600-h/P10508181%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050818" style="display: inline" alt="P1050818" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvZAhU7Kt-iDlseRalNOuYv2E3iNHQv1P-jxmRPw4fn0AjaLN8asA_yZAq-z3zx1rVdWXiyQxKUvz-Djlut02DsXxHymS5KhfYWzhcTTGSVuqe4fPIUj8ZUynlnowp5QUWAUnBaviv-5V/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7T8NkbJobUsk1x6IaiNoDdVRZoJ0HAe67y4dLDJEv_oKLSKAH-Iqib_a3la6PQKtIk5-gkFE7tIWuIr9QUnl-nluMJkLzoosupnGnrkRDvmfaxwOBv1hyphenhyphenYQKhVi8KXzZprhri7LExmwR/s1600-h/P10508191%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050819" style="display: inline" alt="P1050819" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS6C2z_kXqGAHh5qNLsqmIGDTtDaT9zbuyZKwpMacFfvLDOzWhcLk9VHvpWTNvTvpiyK9kkmzaczk87ORKDnxa7Lx29G3v2JKlvZaMGACt747wbrAI2LnsmXhADqUj91egNeYFgITEorr4/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>And of course, some of these had to be taken, otherwise my sister would kill me:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHHogcD3oDdlUe2WqqnQm3Ji4a3TTq5S8YtlH0sWc_AUuamhhcsDex5F_75vXSWEIWteM0KYGt57beumlliLSMb6Vkw2so2bd3IPoPKe3zlKSGeX5uZHxPx6o6DxujBVJjdCcXQy2oeUp/s1600-h/P10508081%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050808" style="display: inline" alt="P1050808" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6LPwCZ6nmhonJstL-aEbPSaK9POrOO6MJ9J45UGEeVjKN-3xnHbYlZuRJFTdL7mUZv3G1GiphdfAv6YBaQqZUCktyKklL4Pt9ZJSG7XusJHIq4pFgcjyUbHGV629hooZpScJ3AHIepGI/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Brilliant! Twenty minutes there flew by, then it was time to hike back down. About forty minutes give or take, with picturesque views every step of the way.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOGECfH-FF59friu54J86mOjWBlJOcwbAhUVivHxRGryzth7P2yQmFCJQIad81BluX31FPCDVCMO-BCW94vikX4Xlmsf1zANlirKsx2RDHvK-Z3dWdVjQEfWDyevLyRjJKyGKKuMKSugz/s1600-h/P10508201%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050820" style="display: inline" alt="P1050820" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RS5xuyFnnL5eEqKq1iqIJ-azFhnr-BaRG-zhzFkcWQXjzHmMFCPK8n6Xx4gar_JXbAIHFlcdmPZHNb_DJS5Jz1UgXvvfVDi7289QnXTs8doMJ-28bTMUUuzlGW_j2C_5nHj4FqyK1y4c/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicnL8egkvZMbIsADbCKCcXOj01XLkLkbFpGmYRD572xKwIQULwB3BZxXyqrMmqaXz9kyobyb3qIPDc4y-eLqgKNV0vbhLAS-Dpg3Hzafy4sfXPslL8aKlFROG9R-sHtkzVlGxN4wQPqaHd/s1600-h/P10508211%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050821" style="display: inline" alt="P1050821" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3BqQkaetLPu9FoQHxksOG5g2OKVi0yl8LG-Wk2t8byMD1_YrFMvvFUAsM8ulVM29Bw72aVT5C6w1P3n7eWerJPBvJLcHJT0HzqUz4A8v3X4cD5jYNFMVF5TJdzhK9oviYhWoRWrtqbNyZ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDFrtXNizaMi6QGz7Cn40-PnTETQ2JIBlJ3LzYzoMd2ecFxEjBjQa4NYfevnBQW2w98p-iREFxYRuCioC4vt-7th1i04MaCHsUM1F446msV8scVggL_8s5-0ctAFP_FyFszvPL9GWdCtL/s1600-h/P10508241%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050824" style="display: inline" alt="P1050824" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLa2PtT_gF0jKrS_wxfZ2anKfmbB78dTpP3ADjbhgD0LhN3dNCkDUQ1jl2MSSCx4nsQDDj0XGxK-cU9NtjSe3KwOm3EX8oONgQkbL8-CXtLVQxxHYPJAfoGFJmTsP4G17Ir5AxVPMc_Vln/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-4WQ5qDBaD2VOeYcgBYQggjeUjtRfC0zbj68KVu-BvMdGv8EPEW19gRsneiCtYhuM7Ch4ZmSMvz03j4DpZGCWgYidDk9EtXb56cMQlZxxkheTSRkL7PgL3RKDp2QNdMb2CL1HRQZHtFiB/s1600-h/P10508251%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050825" style="display: inline" alt="P1050825" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin0BwH5RarMMtlW9-y2krHWNgRpZWOPkuuDesuMCErE_4cSp4FG4Vmws-N2uiml18gFOFs9jDonTplfDELDw45wIB6lLe_mpnA_52QMCiUUSdwDYQfOAtBQwKuIg2goH00I1SeaVIeFd06/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD10HPVAFa_x_KaH9rx1WbKo9w9fad0lkEt3aXWQBsYixmv0mAMiwx77Rug_kGjEKIDfm6krd-iHVQ7HWdKHVZ9o1kS6NZiUr7RZqOSX1xUTAlTs-JpT4_i57MwRmhyphenhyphenpS_xyRi2wd5vKoR/s1600-h/P10508261%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050826" style="display: inline" alt="P1050826" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZyvSxv0hOkBmti-p7ehBG_V3IMjbQz7b2C8GEbgmWAYBJMhZKn6UkEb4tPBtAIvyxb5BVoRoqRbIdBmBrrEpq1R18dHDbzyV2bq3sKCPg7_22rorOi63k0w98e-sFWiHd0suY0ZhgmJp/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTq5li-UCJ_beWpRYX8SKRpYa2fhjvmZ0KZBu826DjI_NvT7-_bhLZ5_RgSVNCOAsh4emF_WVwNNbU87ssM1dVR-RLs1FX1E-5D6TvOulxtOQbKKqBu39BiNnQkhaxz3rcbCRqRZLoXzX/s1600-h/P10508281%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050828" style="display: inline" alt="P1050828" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG5nyZl3M6wHE0Ye9bagSKhEnyPlecDT-AiAdLZsq9jFftKE3RqONcuKhpyc1jzMB-cXU4NmUCV0ptUEPYJuirRUYqOHPYqp4kL1EbTP1yke7n4frsaPZ7Rsi5uUmQZKc4x3HCe37bfuoP/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlMe4t_PMx9MZVtBnPaanyML_jVCERt29kghpPwPPk7FGJW_EBw9XLgHjVjPHN9jQcjnoF5hNz6s3DOVPxH8EMGLQSf5zmz4OZpfGxcaDJT7N5jOWYk1h06cgU_k0uk1A0Umxd784WbyU/s1600-h/P10508301%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050830" style="display: inline" alt="P1050830" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinzJGmc0gV0po4gTG04GhKUDnpnSPpj2daht73_DEwbKhrUjJNxBxO3IoxGnsTLLgkkcRX36u6kM-BzN3yJWJEu69mzlVOSW_Rn85EDX-_lmxI4tej9cXBVCQYBnxkqTqGZRNvHFvDMaXs/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0DsAqgpCSp94Y4QSFnnjNKXjj3r5oj8W0LWaD3jZrq5g2r0kSn90dm6PP7oRX_FR0V_3HLE6cSrekbBS0Bju0W_NyQIWpgX-_iR4v2GDKogAB5KJBhJWmCZFnuxV0LvNZx5iD-buBXw2o/s1600-h/P10508321%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050832" style="display: inline" alt="P1050832" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQleZVCBF0p97xFtntDVdQWNY-3J8qrXg3ESMJVHeyjoq7HY7Ct42kwH-GksvIrFiCMqQ8WMJbidZFyHgZ-D6fjZb4EFwOncsIPyMSWg60EsA9OJpvkAlGDpLOweAJaTC2VF34AbjuUSS/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY6P0Iv_-HHxZquH6VkI-dwydZy0321iklPwBlfG-f05iROLUu7V7EgLLBf7r62WqgztTKtmsnOczslzkZAC3cyZUZGZFtkwYufsQBVcbqXfxNxW6VdlBSEb2d4djD27PVy9188GdwX5yk/s1600-h/P10508351%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050835" style="display: inline" alt="P1050835" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5msgltD2zA0ISSHXMLCQheEKOOKuPlmS2X7r74dKoBH91fW07IAqvK1jCMw01-KU0nlpFW5FFK5uz8zRyfxcGY1_pMLkZm2T_sIAJWSCJFu15QRW6kJs5U-pWRizph1ratcoBUdd2cs-m/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzQDwXbjftfJu99IJvclp-NSp-IXNlRhS4QgTVNMUUwliK4G19ckuw709n7VGbmwDEd4BRPl582KSrH0wAjjC_LffmvBzJX34p8ukZBf8iAm5h5t8mjf4MTj8FQleFDWWEc05yQad3nLx/s1600-h/P10508371%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050837" style="display: inline" alt="P1050837" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZYMHwtJ3XelThJniszGwWw9B4aryUPuhJcz47tesWHMVxUkRbTXb3YTKMnkQsXfjJUi7f3YKeu_9l9WEolE2B2lzLded2CvKt3hl8O4sGtIN94ZPV6BLBSGPlOQdCgaRCMqKziQ3weHo/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7XJPZwIjWkExqZ44EQ3eei7Scxh3lvm2K8EIpK1rjYsZ09IdHQPpSkchPWhdoSu9j-1RYPyjbuHpxloh7Okx1H1Qn6N6TS8yJQa5l6nofDzn-f_A0psmSSRC8mSa0i06Lo-Ue5ZjNXHV/s1600-h/P10508381%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050838" style="display: inline" alt="P1050838" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQNx93N2Lturez_meaehsEP89hbWqcioD8JYFbRlR0W_hlYXiuDtCb7iSNeqsqkKgd62s_wjjrq-mTkpbKiBTKHzPfkDPat1h0qdnT1d9ixjHKumgCnCoqXw9HTzyX96hY_NLOgdnLW9OS/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBH7KGO3dDkUK6KqaefTPoQ2vSvOdc8zTIWy91Qe1ybu502gXSigK7Ca606Mx8dZCTNtU8DYbB1mihYVXS1JcpU8_OBOpuyZcQ4rG2EQhazxfmKfk4z0HOcOvpD-_YCpKTH39466TLX0o/s1600-h/P10508391%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050839" style="display: inline" alt="P1050839" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANnjNSAkHKSQqGUawTm0nxkuu58HWZzgGonSKr7IfXB48pMh4T9Fhw1uCxDqlBY85If-Y9vuIA7QNCGNwZs5A1F2g56Sc31jB-M15QUuNXea-6VIxqHrtz7CiiinaIJvkxch0JSeespu0/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdo9WQZmoxn6S0sVEf1n5qzcfZGJYQXnPc1JJ1GRw05QQi6YWV6TLbWseMRAhAyp_C2Glkw8ElVBokGSLgLxaNgCKlSLPwadqnus-AS2T7gi7CTA0KM37Nn4a2TdFpzaJyHRZmKFfC4dR/s1600-h/PANO_20130711_164403%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130711_164403" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130711_164403" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkBn2UGEjcsfR-QoHIzCIlbaADSEbS5cFeyyQl2rQ17e_pUgBgld6LF4AC64K1tjZ1SzjK1fS-BhAzcvB6J0PlPRnHchtSd5d-4pdkMCDEfPhKMxVgOElB8grPHJSnTnJh3V1r6ZD7OxY/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="184" /></a></p> <p>On August 2<sup>nd</sup>, I’ll be back in British Columbia. I’m going to crisscross it until my car dies. I really miss it.</p> <p>Definitely, the best day of the tour so far.</p> <hr /> <p>Back to the hotel and prepared to take the cable car down. Weather forecast (at least on my mobile app) called for a slight chance of rain. Also, once it turned out that it would be impossible for us to take the cable car up to the hotel right after the concert—we’d have to wait until 12:45am!—it was decided to grab rain jackets just in case.</p> <p>Down with the cable car… then the funicular… and back into the tourist‐laden town center. Grabbed the tickets for the concert, and then met my friend Philipp and his friend Thomas. Philipp flew in to Locarno for the concert, and by “flew in” I mean “flew <em>himself</em> (and his friend) in”, as Philipp happens to be a pilot, was good to see him again.</p> <p><em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket purchasers were allowed early entry to the venue, an option that I was very much happy to forfeit. I have been to the front row in this venue three years ago (in what turned out to be one of the best concerts in the entire Get Lucky tour), and I was more curious to find what the concert experience would be like from the back, given that the venue, <em>Piazza Grande</em>, is tantalizingly beautiful. The group therefore opted at a nearby Italian restaurant for some pre‐concert pizza.</p> <p>Philipp and Thomas went to the Piazza…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoESaSuof0KS2ePvs9qfbYGb1JeZwa-gfTAXNEoTL1UKq2iH_6qat8kK0GH_IoRH-BXcbXbNaEKlAZfV1MSM-CDMP05J64Cq65usBiQgrjGdr4Xke0jxUCx0018d98XJoh7V21bWKeNidY/s1600-h/PANO_20130711_185505%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130711_185505" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130711_185505" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Rg7ObLM3iSt205u6LPlwxuOnLDxWAvSjUAf0WVEA8kuLgCOI4Ww8SA4MPidXqRr6MvSjj2h_sk6GN0d1kJf0hyphenhyphennR0OjTrLKvjac3GG0_fXRsJ4wVJ-LhZBlrbzlreqKRkJLyBR4MPuDn/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… and the two remaining ones decided to take a look at Lake Maggiore.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSGq_J0LEIcDiil1DB80Ik01TfwGjroMnAQ_d3lU-FdjgfQqRJT9HznSBEbJ9FSyS3Kto04VHTEgzfsCgvSmVuHDOcb3mq9ceBRHb6HTRezsgbz316Emlc0IEjBb5cR48dDoJpWDy-QZHq/s1600-h/PANO_20130711_200710%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130711_200710" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130711_200710" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim5IWuQx5NJU2ksqr7e35jNZ2QqMWEXW7gApe8D3lf9a9IZrkh0A6F35gRCnXZgkbjR7j0a3B_AFoBwHPg7Rt6kwc5ky9KDCAHqJ3ij7csQSDw3-WYETnaRPVv3UzZUCHwjn5waL-LNHM0/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="178" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMvdMuCXfHKKw-jgeuK43Kchi7gs7kswnIEuuynfRaRr3Z7L9H_n3bbrcXRvsFTK4_lhd6TOEAIEIE2jgBoSz_JpUPDEP2vnBOV7Wv1mSvfE7WNt2JpyFlYR5kodwsgnZOXV1xIu_WmTQP/s1600-h/PANO_20130711_201128%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130711_201128" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130711_201128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNZAgnjEj6Qa8iHYgFm2SzJKOalk5sGsZr_5WkgsLt2FIrB6FXavzwwhyTf_0P1m4NZCAwHmGMveZ0Wwgh0XU05LX62LWSBOt43lU7eV4nltalqpTrsBLhjtHqos_psSaUCKc149qwaAC3/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="273" /></a></p> <p>Time was up—back to the Piazza.</p> <hr /> <p>The venue, Piazza Grande (“Large Square”), is located in Locarno’s city center. It is, really, a square: what makes it so beautiful is the fact that it is surrounded by beautifully coloured houses.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik0aUFh2uWq02M8nabW3PKKcx255uSbdJlDYyHfSJd77NQDTGtu4anb652FNQ7LlOg4kAeEOdAlSUC63DPAcgguwdxKbhipKdWfTP_x_FCK7byXgMFFqqRbMZtoj5MzHbLh8thONTScSM4/s1600-h/PANO_20130711_203505%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130711_203505" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130711_203505" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiQYcWan1uIRn670TXlfdxhwx-dJeuSnhluYi9OHo2ZKWZhlmJtPes71BOQliRxa8dpCT-JEXYP5f7s_L_6OtKLIrHdjVBT_QvDEHJ8HYH31tXEWcbsAK-FdoFAEEtTxQy6A-w1-9VHVPZ/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="219" /></a></p> <p>At the sides of the Piazza, there are about five thousand restaurants and ice cream stands. The day before, walking through the Piazza on the way to dinner, I noticed fences around the perimeter, effectively separating between the restaurants’ area and the venue. These fences weren’t there now: you could really easily just sit in a restaurant, have dinner and watch the show over a glass of wine. Perfect. Too bad I didn’t know about it; many others, though, did.</p> <p>The concert started a few minutes past schedule. A shorter set (15 songs), and it was quite an experience to watch it from the far back. It felt, really, like a festival. The concert was also broadcasted on two big screens positioned at both sides of the stage.</p> <p>So, I liked the concert, liked the venue, liked the setting… but of course, something negative must (almost) always pop up. As this was a general admission show, I was once again witnessing all the typical annoyances of general admission concerts: at least at the back, people kept on talking loudly—even on their phones; drinking alcohol all the time, getting hammered to the sound of music; beer done? why throw it in the garbage, if I can just squeeze it with my foot and wait for some other sucker to pick it up later? in summary, a huge bunch of losers who clearly weren’t there for the music. It was, after all, a festival: people are there <em>just for the sake of being there</em>. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that many people in the audience yesterday weren’t really appreciative of Mark’s music—that is, assuming they even knew who Mark was.</p> <p>Why do people behave this way? why would a group of people buy concert tickets, just so they can enter the venue, get hammered with alcohol (isn’t alcohol more expensive in concert venues, anyway?), chat loudly with their co‐losers and interfere with others’ enjoyment of the concert?</p> <p>It is what it is, though. What can I do? nothing much, except for complaining digitally.</p> <p>Still, it was a nice experience to be a part of. Good music, and the Piazza prettier as the sun sets.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlxpJfPG7Ff9lUHyRlJYJak7miv6C1AepE57EWQSsBSGiCwJklVGG4Pp__yfzHuJ0GglOHiLoiV63yfynkQ10KSpNLMIx10gF_ZFOxrcq9JRUbbsRV4l7kCCbFrAoNR_CQ6AQx0f3u4J_N/s1600-h/P10508661%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050866" style="display: inline" alt="P1050866" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj82VPt-cCNkcdh9NO8p5FacBacHPlpljTxvxSjCCaYZ-BieGqMiEjMv_z8niX5bmRoF0leEKDNvj0bfrl79IdjEHTaIlCYAU8bUzAncc9ArTdaoUnZ08yaMvb-ogYBmRgoHE7J_i0CfyM2/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzklZueThyCJy6N5JE56O0G4ViPpYTbo3Hnpz9l2619qvcb2lyKFfsYtZXID5qE3DjeODKz_cwGhN1RzgVbwH2nL70AKFMu-o6QaZBiMIZGxHRkimgFJpylfSL5VWqtHCk8FrQPdHfvceY/s1600-h/P10508671%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050867" style="display: inline" alt="P1050867" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJxkaMceODxl2mg6aebyIZTnk0Y1-GRmhjErHawjoWfLESVHxeGrURPgtUgGral6rwOaTXOyI-7sjie4hyNfgo6WfbVB7Dm_hCL9JB-JlF2vocVTHYhe3cdZh-NBIYhM4C7ByQ6FY4d8ft/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9HhwadkmjujdXARrhtLKbkgWtDc64ngUvxVVZFVVhHfNAhcO4Vz2Vl7T22fqGedQE4vuS1G-S-s61BXPKfvnz6U_8jFn7lByzrSbMsrdakXxajdlFsYqucFpraxce-g0cVLyL6T57qFy9/s1600-h/P10508681%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050868" style="display: inline" alt="P1050868" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidQ09RAPxnfKt7ddKTM5CtcIzHPXygakwb_9UeQdfjdn_B6ThzSCPUAd0hyphenhyphenGyXa5k1cO1E0OuYHIcCRA0O5lHX4C5NshDzLdt0yabdo5UVaCt6YKDiqfTw5tbdvU91YedrFMVJGcX5493G/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ih2tKW6vLvkWQq8s7AoPFop5av8vlnWM-xuvXi3Nodt2Dnd2OTqGupGPEYYBhmUYM1md6vt-tXEl4_1oKI1S-6Mqfwkr3RRrTGH7lB0Y-JwNF4vOdpoqtm1AptBB2mj4cusFev-LUPUm/s1600-h/P10508691%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050869" style="display: inline" alt="P1050869" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj685YC0ycibD5sZTt3JHQAgDZpaXwJDXDX01RnlN3zXAx2STsUL_5wJbxsHD96aYKAQGfzrlhtFXemX4EfpYrHgIA3DMtjN2AwkyOQUZTmA-fVfJO5lJ13RbDhzQD85ZKiTYkKU3ALaDTy/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Concert ended in just under two hours. There was still an hour or so left until the hotel’s special cable car service. Time spent with Philipp, Thomas, their friend Barbara and two other strangers. Bid everyone goodbye and headed to the funicular en route to Orselina.</p> <p>Once in Orselina, it was still 40 minutes or so before the cable car was scheduled to arrive. I was a bit worried that the “special service” might end up being forgotten altogether, which would really, <em>really</em> ruin the night.</p> <p>Near the cable car station, there’s a viewpoint over the lake and the mountains. Spent some time there taking photographs with long exposure:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWPfWbQFBMeoaWPvfcnfwnqPTXmeeYJrA3JNlJ3aXVB3BENFuJtfRYZI3F0U0k_wOwmCGlI8lfzH7Ydjh3aR7TL6JJ67WIYYi30yySTyFprAenDYTUZOiABazr7FB2sHaNArHw03swNW24/s1600-h/P10508801%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050880" style="display: inline" alt="P1050880" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2oN3jHH6V-N9tfA1WqKnjxj_vGfRWdD1Z4QIbFaqz4jWLx4Z0MkklL37NI7WJrurqp3I9qW368ult_rmYuzpDnpa6UUKY_1uYP9pHw9tG38o9F7TXHmqYToPQwtTrkPyyRDfFcHRweTbS/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="367" /></a></p> <p>A nice couple from Switzerland, also staying at that hotel, joined shortly after. Was good to speak with locals. Time passed quickly, and fortunately, the special cable car service showed up on time.</p> <p>Was good to be up there again. Packed everything that needed packing, and off for a good night sleep.</p> <p>Brilliant and adventurous couple of days in the beautiful city of Locarno. Lucky to be doing this.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from the hotel room in Padova, Italy. Will go hunt for food now, and then to the concert—some 20km away.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-51122600684534650342013-07-11T05:17:00.001-07:002013-09-10T12:56:48.691-07:00The 200th: Stuttgart, Germany to Nîmes, France (July 7–9, 2013)<p>After a tough travel week in Germany—it was the time for a well‐deserved break: not one, but two days off. As travel from Stuttgart to Nîmes takes about seven hours, it was decided, when planning this trip, to spend one day off in Stuttgart, and use the second day off to travel to Nîmes. Such arrangement made most sense, balancing between time spent unwinding and time spent travelling, all the while reducing the risk of missing the show in Nîmes due to… well, who knows. This is France, and every day without a railway strike is a day to savour.</p> <p>Sunday, July 7<sup>th</sup>, was used to take things slow in Stuttgart. What a beautiful city, I tell you. Together with Köln, these two cities make for a great case to travel to Germany. The more time I spend in Germany, the more I grow to like it.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Germany has not always been a preferred destination for travellers born and raised in Israel. World War II, which ended less than seventy years ago, saw six million Jewish people losing their lives to the atrocities of the Nazis. The Holocaust, being one of the most studied subjects in the world, is a subject that Israelis become well aware of since early days in primary school. I am not sure how the Israeli education system works now, seventeen years after left it; but in my time, the tight association between the country named “Germany” and the atrocities of the Nazis was instilled in people’s minds as early as they could possibly understand, if only at the outset, what The Holocaust meant.</p> <p>As years went by since World War II, however, Germany turned to be one of Israel’s closest allies in Europe. At least at the government level, German governments over the years showed a great deal of support in Israel in international forums. Trade and tourism ties strengthened significantly. Still, of course, nobody forgets World War II. Contradiction? in a sense, it is. But it is that contradiction that serves as a platform for the unique relationship between the two countries.</p> </div> <p>The day started with a late breakfast at the city center. Same group of people that met just the night before after the concert for drinks, minus one, were once away having a good time over breakfast out in some cafe’s patio. Weather? perfect. Clear skies, around 22℃. Good healthy breakfast for a very reasonable price, even though the place could hardly be more tourist‐oriented, being located at the very beginning of Königstraße, facing the central railway station. Time flew by, until we all bid each other goodbye. One left back to France, one to Belgium, one to The Netherlands… United Nations, really.</p> <p>The day off was also used to do the laundry. There’s a Laundromat right at the city center. Luck had it and some inconsiderate bloke was doing the laundry of his entire family and closest circle of friends, occupying multiple machines at once. Other machines were idle, but with clothes in them—belonging to people who weren’t considerate enough to stay on the premises and unload their machines on time.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Of course, that was enough to make me lose yet a bit more faith in humanity; mind you, faith is really running out here. The more people I find myself in the presence of, the more I long to be in the presence of less people. When I find myself dependent on other people’s courtesy (not kindness; not looking for favours. Just plain, simple, basic courtesy), more often than not I end up getting disappointed.</p> <p>The world is probably full of nice people; where the hell are they?</p> <p>On the other hand, perhaps a cheap Laundromat off the most touristic area of Stuttgart is not the best place in the world to start looking.</p> </div> <p>My friend Dirk, who saved the previous day by recommending a good hospital for me to visit to look after my wrist problem, also recommended a good spot to see Stuttgart from above. Stuttgart’s city center is located in some sort of a valley, as it is surrounded by mountains. Of course, the mountains’ sides are dotted with beautiful red roofs, reminding me of the sights of West Vancouver when viewed from English Bay or Stanley Park. A short ride via U‐Bahn line 15 to Bubenbad station, then a short walk along Richard‐Wagner‐Straße and you can’t miss that viewpoint:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVVFiLzzGl8r0zEyMtFyvGn-6arHBmeTRM6tjqj1kSfp2Vm47a7hqvkgMm75ds-Ikwg4cp9Y-Z115WhogeexFuvOAdZXbhSx61CvBaqlWWBrwt6PYQLmcvmhbM6RyMWCq1YN1R4_7mrZE/s1600-h/IMG_17691%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_17691" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_17691" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIpVpuqQ3-B0fWn3LjoGUmQoWUHto9hra2cDc92VAKKEgy56h_yF1gYSuTxtiJc3t3q2oYgub5q9j9lQWi7E-RemY_UVERkjjM9GMvMpXTxMPY0M8Jww346TWoP0sQX0gtwX-bIhgwxpnD/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJjGPL-xR_APwMn9dCxk20b5rTp8tnNSAJnGrTVjZTBHBJyUSvvfM9i-YjHHxTFRCjGN_C8ZRGftNqtBmaxd6DbiXdNlFeXPS-7xR3g2lwH1duZMOAyRD734LimpluJcn2tErr5qkeIUH/s1600-h/IMG_17741%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1774" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1774" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSvloy34acGVmCrx62-sknKlYLUNq6mPxLjyCIIzOLabuBBGbS0pxAQurfg-HMSFPcmCry0dflVhrbClAOW9c8Vkx_l7mmeDDQA9QE2ocTAdG83-oovwP3ZBUaZN_NXyEGGwPiX4YMnZw/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMMIcfpPEo8w46kMICbuT1CjmMqbVYofmYyt5O1kh-OWRmLubyxQCv1uZU8krPDPvoHPLFTl7-4PX5fq77-F6Xvs0T3jj5zPWtSMblSMnQOqqywEZSYlMM8c0oSskEXVlwGS5wYtPoFBOS/s1600-h/PANO_20130707_162917%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130707_162917" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130707_162917" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkPH2pLcgCYtvVHsrrNZNbJpIclUjvaI6zKcf3a6tnTXJATqcv0huc0OFoeNEiYIXsuAiHrsTEX3nIuaxZjcM6YtxzS5LQHb-4PMiwQ3f4MRK3Fwm8a2KDs2YoTz6gARb7ZckmLA4LxWlo/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="160" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGSmwjpwrywrv8zHmEnClnnk63xUD2XjKCPV1abaGQz8kaQkB74BwQcc_eTzkqCu4vR1pXOtrAtBMfvV-3lY376bGas_lGfjOuysONFAxlaAUgXOIEoaMd5fiTeAuxgj4AeR7QarV3uYVB/s1600-h/PANO_20130707_164152%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130707_164152" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130707_164152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYnb5zqzxJylKyTmZmyxs7zHdvtlRW5cLqZaBXU4YnZrcnEUalN-ol1Mp2FXeaaFxrsZlzxgwM2iyYIzyN_QdTtrWq-eMMxYCMhyphenhyphenrOnV7y9U9HKrTPhxAj1JKZ3awQDwHwZY57RhEIirek/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="269" /></a></p> <p>Along with the Dutchman, decided to walk a part of the way down instead of taking the U‐Bahn. It’s a moderate decline, making for an easy quiet walk through what seemed to be one of Stuttgart’s more affluent areas.</p> <p>Just as if the day couldn’t be more relaxing, I noticed a nice cafe on the way down. Short sandwich and beautiful coffee, but my mind was set elsewhere. The place featured a beautiful black grand piano right in the middle of the cafe’s interior; everyone was seated at the patio, so at first I considered trying it out, eventually decided that I’m way too shy to have a go at it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BAmwMnNbSODJ29s04QxqNVZ2hmaTClAJ2O7IVEBmzFlRoU4fXz5rihw2DXsl-AMMMlaNSdJ_MfoKKs3yZn1tmCbd2EjS07g9ne0rnXuQk9zZnxCEd8HClty8JZkKT2_Du5AtCiOY5Mo_/s1600-h/IMG_20130707_172337.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130707_172337" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130707_172337" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz74LIQggU4S0nzwe_0w1WKFBc8X0MrnGR8yd19RbtL7zrlcv_U7R6uqDWlAz8-ruH9IQQYcryXjCcJ4ERlmPk5__5Qu9hqiZPBBhCC0PupVZk6i8uYy56Q8JXn7XG6r6317HrHY6keUAt/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Tram back to the city center…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvoXhRvgiz72CAkC8I9n0PHv_40_CDPA6kIXJeNMdNpTPM3G-7YH8Yy9tmhHzpNRj3WzG40X1AK-MbZhWNphefrP6f5JDu8IpLY0SqdBVIKYo0-ocPtTqVZQBIL86TYzbgKtvMgt0UpOm_/s1600-h/IMG_20130707_172739.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130707_172739" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130707_172739" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEz-mSy_FlHqDXKMxsDmiT6bg5MrAjVUyTdrDi8TJYRPGB4Ef0DeWysXoyi_DW6OZQ75ElEYIl1bmFdheiGK1CFgx2vow7vvWbqjKeGaWgTxoOSftgDEiYGfMT0sr3SO3yOkNq9M5JyJYv/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… and we split up as the Dutchman went away for dinner and I headed back to the hotel to do some writing and upload the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/the-199th-bad-mergentheim-to-stuttgart.html">previous post</a>.</p> <p>Later on, met with a friend who just happened to be in Stuttgart for the concert. A nice walk from the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schlossplatz_(Stuttgart)">Schlossplatz</a> where there was an open air Jazz festival going on, to a cafe nearby and back.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTnS3vqHtShPXOePYzLrb7j2odetsgy2Q4M95XtnkOnXTcenSF6mp_qkENcE9gSxII6nzDIXFvOFqU3-yjd45zB_IjFkh2Y3GN4tr9Ayx2XoOCnWQVxWQFlgl2MFTkWekVYgz1JKdJKQlH/s1600-h/IMG_20130707_212924.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130707_212924" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130707_212924" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_IbEEF4Ol8hUTDdoOJJsN9T31din9kebWXYzN_KSzun_AQhY0P2TPHhPjixzuWt6jTd-uST8IIeOsAcM2SIdS9j5f_UVa9poTJFnkMEnL1mJlatOUYNSWDgkcLroYl8PhI9uTpa98K6Y/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSie_2a5vYA28-z_88YEZ-FRy1eWqd6Hva_97N9pZNN2kwfd368aWGeH7zzFRDkgEga42eDAOvhbtmcDGfgUjhFzzl3egvPfV_gyj3jTEwU-CNjhr56uEySiYxJsNjv5zrbMaImD6TKtYQ/s1600-h/IMG_20130707_212931.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130707_212931" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130707_212931" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKrx77kqoBMNCl8r4axgzER03XvOiVOlEQGMmlmWsHjgb0qg6t09ndaFhYF02x1Q0UzHsfujgUv2uyIdrcgGhGvgud2tEqVwv95cz0L7k0ivLQzPtFHgQLbt7L_IWr0SwkEIjLYub4pMeb/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp_0oyZl_wIjuudGq2h2Et18ncfcdSbhyphenhyphenSCR5xYP-mMiOn2vV_mdCpOBLDlxF0cdlKLqDaNjrv475q6n4pRhg6Ax_XqTcBRBvnRHcSttVt_JDL5zr0MrE5nfL6lWPK_cFPKQ6Ikm6Bl6-Q/s1600-h/IMG_20130707_213938.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130707_213938" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130707_213938" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd0kWzG0W9lVdtFgOATPtC6sNKNxEkI5pEnL9YYbu3HMJBQ-9Na8NSu2qw_HtB_FXkkVDK5a4493f6LmebW4YnVIa0lpggyamtKXpVgeZI8sebbC3NMgnaF2VkSP-LexOLxuaoHKg6GAhp/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It was Sunday night. Hundreds of people were sitting on the grass in the huge Schlossplatz, biding their time with friends, listening to the live music playing in the background. As busy as this city is, there was a sense of calmness in the air: piles of people just enjoying a breathe of fresh air as the sun sets. I could have stayed there for hours.</p> <p>As the night was falling, I realized that the next day was going to involve quite a bit of travel starting earlier than 7:00am. Still had most of my clothes to fold and repack. Bid my friend farewell and headed back to the hotel.</p> <hr /> <p>One of the most interesting books I have read is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Surowiecki">James Surowiecki</a>’s “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wisdom_of_Crowds">The Wisdom of Crowds</a>”. The book discusses the concept of crowd wisdom: when you present a challenge (such as a question) to a large enough group of people, aggregate all answers and analyze them, you often come up with the conclusion that, on average, the crowd is very smart—even though the variance in answers may be great. The book discusses the theory behind crowd wisdom, famous cases in which it was put in use and other interesting related topics; it is also usually high in the reading list of social sciences students.</p> <p>I decided to do a little experiment. On my Facebook page, I posted the X‐rays I took in Regensburg about three weeks ago, as well as the X‐rays taken in Stuttgart just the day before, and asked people what they thought. Some of my friends are doctors, and some of them chose to respond privately. Some of my friends know other people who are doctors, and they also responded. I wasn’t particularly seeking medical advice; I just wanted to know two things:</p> <ol> <li>What a group of people, dealing with medicine, may come up with; and </li> <li>Whether the group, as a whole, thinks that I should be stopping following the tour and return to Canada immediately in order to not worsen things. </li> </ol> <p>I know nothing about medicine. All I know about the status of my wrist is what I actually feel. I was surprised to find, however, that opinions vary. Some claimed that the X‐rays were just fine; some raised suspicions over a faint hairline in one of the bones, implying a fracture; and one suggested that I indeed had a minor fracture, but it is healing very well. I combined all opinions with the assessment given by the doctor at the Stuttgart hospital, and derived the most restrictive and conservative conclusion: returning to Canada now will not speed up recovery; and I should be wearing that compression brace for a few more weeks to let things heal properly.</p> <p>Tour goes on. For now.</p> <hr /> <p>The next morning started early. Woke up shortly before 6:00am, got ready quickly and was already at the station before 6:40am. The itinerary: leave Stuttgart 6:54am, arrive Strasbourg 8:10am; then leave Strasbourg 9:16am, arrive Nîmes 2:30pm. Both rides are with the TGV, 1<sup>st</sup> class.</p> <p>1<sup>st</sup> class international travellers on the TGV are served a complementary meal on board. With that in mind, it was decided to buy one sandwich each from Le Crobag, for lunch (Le Crobag has officially been nominated the trusted provider of sandwiches for the tour’s leg in Germany).</p> <p>Shortly after boarding the train, I felt that I’m starving. Turned out that the on‐board meal on the TGV is served after the last stop in Germany, which is in Karlsruhe, 35 minutes into the ride. As the train left Karlsruhe, it took fifteen more minutes until TGV staff handed in those small boxes with “breakfast”, hereby placed within quotes in order to not offend real breakfasts. Garbage. Really, garbage. Worse than most airlines’ food.</p> <p>That had to do, though.</p> <p>Arrived at Strasbourg for a full hour wait. I have never been to Strasbourg before, and for some reason, I was under the impression that I was going to visit a beautiful city located on the mountains (where the hell do I get these ideas, I really don’t know). Approaching Strasbourg, I realized that there’s no scenery here whatsoever. Didn’t even leave the station; instead, bought a couple of croissants from a bakery on site and devoured it along with some cappuccino which was surprisingly adequate.</p> <p>Nowadays in France, there seems to be a trend of placing pianos in public places so you can simply sit at one, and play. I seem to recall a commenter on this blog informing me about this. Anyway, there was one in Strasbourg’s central railway station. Once again I had doubts, but then decided that, what the hell, I’m unlikely to see any of these people around anymore in my entire lifetime.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjhoIAe7_Lt8fJKEXceN9Td30WD7X3YFLzqsX9SLrNVMpNQSiT24NDlRxChjx4xZDZNXpPfxwCIOxTsYQdgq_BG-sQG2QdY4dfxscBgzLc-aSPUYElsK82BkjgXL_FnCt3aVUjX-zDZCwW/s1600-h/IMG_17761%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1776" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1776" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vTNsguXy0eg6wpJA0ByKOpiDSUAVFm1EZM1Io5bpSUfI5O7y0p0qe2kFNwVDTRQLYzuQoIsMyM2SaRpx2WjUd6eVnGSQzOqE30PbuOFOFGiBesMf3mZ2rovnmjN2s6Kv7on4Pp998Pkr/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>So, this particular piano had a very soft sound, as if its una corda pedal was permanently set. Wouldn’t be surprised to find out that this was true for all of the pianos scattered around France. It was good to touch a keyboard again, for the first time after more than three months, although I had to stop after a few minutes as my wrist was hurting.</p> <p>Back to the platform, and boarded the next TGV train. Five long hours ride to Nîmes, as the train rides through a couple of places visited before in this tour—Dijon and Lyon. During the ride, I experienced a little of this, from the passenger seated right in front of me (needless to say, he opted doing so while his seat was fully reclined).</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio2vUL3WR4Fp9APA5hyB-KOXOdt7D28rnqh9s8K3MI9r3JcHNXWccsPhrSlqqsSn19g8nCLN3j5aWa3v_ELsaXm27LCBQtewHTCUc6dH2RGZnJpLb8ttvn2hTxjxqRMSXKdj4fgS8GDo2i/s1600-h/IMG_20130708_130828.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130708_130828" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130708_130828" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQSCcU3XlWRkQaopaNnjwpOA_TKhmFbtfZTEZj-bGLxEOfn74UFj_r9EQ2vWHAzzPruJSm9OqfS-zJN6NJwrAyJV123j8yjsqeK8fxSdvWNUIZF_KnrXo893BSg_4mxXfHb-xuEvJEChO/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The direction was, in general, south; and the more you head south, the more sparsely populated the area appears to be. So sparsely populated, that a couple of minutes before arriving to Nîmes, it seemed as if the train was still riding through France’s rural areas. The city of Nîmes appeared as if suddenly, out of the blue.</p> <p>Left the air‐conditioned train right into the platform, feeling the most unwelcome jab of hot air right in my face.</p> <p>Welcome to Nîmes, and welcome to (possibly) the warmest part of the tour.</p> <hr /> <p>The city of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/N%C3%AEmes">Nîmes</a> is located in the south of France. 140,000 people live here. Its history dates back to the Roman Empire, and the city still has some of the best‐preserved Roman structures in France. The city’s name is pronounced as “<em>Neem</em>”, with a dominant “<em>ee</em>” sound.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I was always wondering what that strange letter <em>î</em> (that little “hat” on top of it is called “circumflex”) was all about and how it should be pronounced. A <a href="http://www.facebook.com/isaac.shabtay/posts/10151502482227073">Facebook post</a> I made ended up getting really useful information about the subject.</p> </div> <p><a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-les-arenes-de-nimes-place.html">I have been to Nîmes before</a>, during the 2010 Get Lucky tour. Back then, I was only there for a day, which I remember was a very hard day due to the immense heat and the inability to feed myself due to the French’s somewhat strict hours of restaurant dining. I was ready, then, to make amends: was going to spend two nights in this city and try to make sense out of it.</p> <p>The hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187154-d3359793-Reviews-Ibis_Styles_Nimes_Gare_Centre-Nimes_Gard_Languedoc_Roussillon.html">Ibis Styles Nîmes Gare Centre</a>, is located right behind Nîmes’ central railway station. From there, it’s about 800 meters walk to the city center: the closer you are to the city center, the pricier hotels become. For the purpose of following the tour, though, the location was perfect: a stone throw away from the central railway station (good for the next train heading towards Locarno, leaving very early in the morning), and about 10 minutes easy walk to the city center which, coincidentally, is also where the concert venue is.</p> <p>Checked into the hotel and started the air conditioner even before <em>considering</em> putting my luggage down. The temperature outside was around 31℃, which is a temperature that I simply can’t agree to and think it should be outlawed. </p> <p>A short while later, went outside to explore the city. Chose to take the stairs as the elevator was occupied by a clueless couple who didn’t quite understand the concept of inserting your key card in order to activate the elevator. Now, you might think that once you reach floor “1” and proceed downstairs, the next one will be “0”. Well…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic1UpFsM2YMFO6NEr1TNUSK_D30USdBPl7fYdgtOViEhbmO6PlsbRwlIWfz5Q_S4qEKB4_nRVQqADifhN4s9qaVMaas9Wb4IcmS-Ql22cl215csSXrd4vvfhHqOwj4UM4G8LR1hLTxP1BC/s1600-h/IMG_20130708_151501.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130708_151501" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130708_151501" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQIi6ruBHQqq-PqX8LYGs1eGuvX-VZA6Cm94Yy2drOBQDE1cDpb0Ch0NZUTqPiLtfCTAlm6w830TjdARUEMZ6NE6sBfWkz8lSvC7MhiX9tocA59cVJrD5mHG8R238TUprtqPBDbNw-baPP/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>From the hotel, it’s about 10 minutes walk north west, on a nice walkway featuring an artificial waterway. Due to the immense heat, people were sitting by this waterway with their feet inside it, to cool off. Children were bathing in it, too.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0ifKUN83mCjTfTWx2KBRNuKP-5WHgQONxY7L2HsgG3auMOqcuNJfBe_TOLWekvwgXNhGsb9osDt1Q6yDR0z1ADR7pgZyUvEFyoDQgsXVYvvfvPXsu5jBcfEYZ-2LtFrIPGxkCk9XJb5A/s1600-h/P10507491%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050749" style="display: inline" alt="P1050749" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpEQbxI9AdFpr8lwo6HoUN10MtVAhMRQYv9unMMIepyCrrseWXVsg6moGYfBC4nxwrGECFDZjwgp0eWgulitkWpjiHx6rkXvg6Jk2kXtjXc0WPWN2Mx7uMfgIyR33Fv9AV-hirhaEElwal/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The walkway ends in a garden, bounded by two major boulevards—Boulevard de Prague to the east, and Boulevard Victor Hugo to the west. The old city center is located between the garden to the south; these two boulevards to the east and west; and Boulevard Gambetta to the north. Tourists in Nîmes are likely to be spending most of their time within those boundaries, and you can certainly see the entire old city center in one day.</p> <p>Once you reach the garden at the end of the walkway…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH0x5k3zCFroackd6-53qATVwkJX_NQuMtzMWkiz98Oa4GXhCjPY_caZNZrDaVDiEgQSO1uFd0TkISlVQXxSbKKqVmhZqA7Hr82wa5vTmAXcIft-d0ybWza66Q2dXpNLskCN23jpcW_nvX/s1600-h/P10507461%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050746" style="display: inline" alt="P1050746" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhyphenhyphenBMcf8S3xzEqgJzmsz4ToJh-nujzmiLHGzVKseJfH3HJ1aFCXWJUSUd5YXEqKiwZlFtpIf1SoYB0Mcq_reoFFD4cpWNZ-N5Metb0rPfPfQw-LLjQCeBKiLs-I6qqJoluUiInvV3hxKt/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… and look left, you see one of Nîmes’ most precious prides, which also, coincidentally, was to serve as a venue for the next day’s concert: the wonderful, splendid arena. We will get to that arena later on in this post, but for now…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEbt-W-BppjiFXMgeBlkC7_2EyjfXb2B7n-A9k6F9JNPR7fp9BWIlRUht0uz7sqUx6CS-BHwiVKUCbhGJiJ74JAigDDJ7CTs0Oh8U9japyQCVbSHH-drl44odLeJKdHrN5TxXH1R2FOVKj/s1600-h/PANO_20130708_152421%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130708_152421" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130708_152421" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2fN2lO_j4o_d1UJhqcz8T92qe_STAVrUouOTRtl2x5SLchyphenhyphenDCJH2R-hFjBWwPIfzpJZSEsb5K8s30pv1cf7iMKAkSzGkDDPdM00HhO24Pz5ND5m6IyxvXxIMHY09WXjZq5J0BK70z9a3l/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="174" /></a></p> <p>(In the picture above, the arena is to the left.)</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ijKdgY3fT2JNBrTuelmegoRroO8YFn0PYLOmyEVXeZDXbmGlHe4nmZZ88ns08_UfvtOqL87qFc0eixLnMYdMZaw58kxloLbrdobH3DqtgAVtigOU-tdquNiiLFIJdDFUANE3Yz_7ABDh/s1600-h/P10507471%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050747" style="display: inline" alt="P1050747" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UzKF1aQa-fpbooC8H52fH5hXwbtgeb8KVQ-jikFL-ywzsGtSeCQgeHV-X-nufBmwXClho3axWjcxtuKjDN3qCGMsYbpbaicZWgWQVz_glscvEwFXZbmhRkGwPw2-OdvNui0Y2LCtL5Ad/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="367" /></a></p> <p>Walking west on Boulevard Victor Hugo is a good way to start exploring the old city center. From that boulevard, all you need to do is just pick on a random side street heading east and you’re already in the old city center’s core. Like most other old city centers I had seen so far in France, this one, too, isn’t too bad on the eyes.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigYNA6xgzYF17Kwy6NznUlT3EWYZZvI7q57dZc3CDxXHYPrRRp5j7YDdF6rjIN8P9jwsm2gY8M6xxWU9emZ4jloNDAS-CQfqSd22h_0-86OoQSNO-Mqym_pWUqZ7qhHQ0SQ5foMcGv7Pif/s1600-h/P10507481%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050748" style="display: inline" alt="P1050748" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxvA7WC8hX97VbpmxB8AB_GrEkfI4f_0XM-xMhmaXoIcGPhysBtxI33Ws3crcJEupbAX2e0qYYVLgOFhDk7OplWYODE33Mwl0LA5gXmt6MBn6wANsWV8BisIsOQ9RbpX1WmfeUWy4dvT05/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwUrx4PsRhp7TAm2PQ7PIijYgJi97AQSnT64noaa6bmOnUyk8B5z03vWIc4qbGA8nUMmcW3OZJq63YrRyVZGaxZ6fnrnn2_SVfi0Wjo3fK0AZ0FWclmLGb6erEb9rJj0gpIqBCddVkwZsQ/s1600-h/IMG_20130708_153533.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130708_153533" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130708_153533" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRdkD66HIPnmtTvRZTQRbUNeyw6_4TAC-hC_VAvtMPrMFTATYD9_ZUYA5dlbs5OruPnhH2r_Hvtp4T1nELV5asdLciFX34t9czSfZp067y21j1YVL8nUVDEKCpjgsSAHL6YsuXCXmLUtcV/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZAeGdlTb58Oa5yBWSwmoW9WFQxqXUFtDPWI2AAbwN5IJCc1i2ODme-ohDKxXf0FtOJNRUHwvMZacAev02Opz7tXuy4vLYKAqUqJnVzcTEXN8ioz92bjMIRBt7q9HhWF8PczkMmIz2jpa/s1600-h/IMG_20130708_153633.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130708_153633" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130708_153633" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9HOpH6pFDfw8E68G44Uzi74IfvgnqXF97Z01ecoVeU-eAeMMWgKLcmps_uvTmxN2eeQuHnzTYJFk5SzI576FCZXrC0u2fH8KbrrcfLUB7yg5IHU2dbZllxAOtAFNX_hmrQFTW5-weM3l/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisQrocUkZX6fTJrJF9xB5ti-qXmQjS7QlCZsye3UIM0umcxh_3B3Od2Qjz78ziyfl-AIk_c1uJS374gbifwsKAn3cnJrFCwkI2YG61c6bpW8xLW3oHLkzk3LYDakSrtXYqylWrjhY6mpK7/s1600-h/PANO_20130708_162742%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130708_162742" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130708_162742" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHOKQNULvbJdnizcwnge-Hod4hfIK6i6AH69SNrfuVzg9-MZX7kOkLWghvvS6schnOj2j4zwmNRxQYKdw1Gr_Hr_rRclGTZokWnsE8wCgaPANWqvo_uW0KoZ0fiMF0CQcRoOEVPYXFymT/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="212" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOQjI0SWSjTBpuXVvj6iEya5BIXiMJeDn3g8Lolpm-bQ4NoQAiAHla-QOfjRgSADa0Om27p5y1QAT7yte6NJta2FHXymJuHkACiQ5E-82MayfdVTQj_Q_jVGetc2rG_IIQ9eBpGaoyovGP/s1600-h/IMG_20130708_164512.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130708_164512" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130708_164512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8KtwTnUb7i4Gms3z5GpYRoS3r_82wRcDc8eHav7o1p-qmWjHrQMK012fXpRexkIcisqag-iM-XQO3e6HSEEGeqUeC8mQoAeuNyiwMZZAVhlwExqI-LE2w6p8AttVvni98lKUfV8gl4mi/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN_7R9-Az_sRuoKTEgltdJ4-kxpD_gZxUB5ocR1dHk9IrB37bX9s230uBeXnkKVjYXvXhMUUHRWvQLlNd6sk1jV0Lck-5P-Zgh7_lGsFbAnpjg40Ehzk1Z2ks1ILqLYvKk77eINAg0mMNv/s1600-h/IMG_17861%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1786" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyPupVekJfyown3ZcOap5ZlJRV_PmmuVHYAeUuWYUmTDlc7PCIkmyQzEHRR6TrTcjAomKwHGffgXVX7haApJx6cG1K4G4HDv9D07UC-cSLQp258cDE4ONYC7uPWEG20YNquKfdHWFTsWw/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The people in Nîmes appear to exhibit slightly different lifestyle than in other places I have been to in France. Casualness seems to be prevalent: people seem to be more vocal, less formal. This may have something to do with the fact that Nîmes is located in southern France, and Italy and Spain are very close. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that this proximity to Italy (to the east) and Spain (to the south west) has a lot to do with the impression you get out of people here.</p> <p>It was hot. <em>Very</em> hot. How hot? I’m pretty sure I witnessed a cigarette setting a smoker on fire. So hot I wanted to peel my own skin off. There should be a bylaw in Nîmes allowing people to walk around naked. So hot that I was breathing fire. So hot that you couldn’t possibly throw ice cubes at people—they’d melt before hitting their target.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>How on earth could I survive 24 summers in Israel—which is hotter than Nîmes in the summer—is beyond me.</p> </div> <p>At some point, it was time to eat something. Horrific memories of my last time in Nîmes, looking for food, crept into my consciousness. Wandering around the city center following recommendations by <em>TripAdvisor</em> for about an hour, all attempts ended in restaurants that were either closed altogether or open for drinks only.</p> <p>By complete chance, I noticed a place that was open, selling baked goods, yogurts and fresh fruit. Well, at least I <em>thought</em> it was yogurt; it was, in fact, <em>fromage blanc</em> (French for “white cheese”). Absolutely delicious: together with a cup of fresh fruit, that small snack was enough to keep me going until dinner.</p> <p>Back to the hotel as it made no sense at all to be outside for long in those temperatures. First thing I did was to ask my French friends & followers, on Facebook, what was that <em>fromage blanc</em> thing and how is it different from a yogurt. Many useful responses came through. Unfortunately, it’s not something I would prepare on my own. Hopefully they sell this stuff in Vancouver. It’s addictive.</p> <p>A couple of hours spent in the hotel to escape the heat, then back again to the city center for dinner. <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187154-d3618156-Reviews-Cafe_Leffe-Nimes_Gard_Languedoc_Roussillon.html">Cafe Leffe</a> on Boulevard Victor Hugo offers an interesting menu, and even though it is located in an area that attracts many tourists, prices are reasonable. Delicious beef portions simmered in a broth that was based on… beer. Quick dessert, and back to the hotel again.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurGdAjYdK9rFKOFL7FpI7pSzsYqnLVWs716o8OiYm3wqMngDP0ll_y7y24J3hYxb0s6WiL99wZKuUKumiGef8gnAmpxZQjIZoUc5Wh-hYpJtTKovsT0-recRsFvU07X47jklUblUtiSBK/s1600-h/P10507511%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050751" style="display: inline" alt="P1050751" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhst09XYfPABkZczl8neFXE1Nr1pzq7mfH85k9tXqpuhCl44Yd246pjuwZNFn96KOQuEPKB_LwOiJv6LMn5S5wQTI01Qy2FRUAM4M-Ux8Rk-vz9aB2eSVOQRDZqodOndcTelHXGJx-wtPja/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEJSbbIDESu-6fUZbJSk3O6aqgs07cFJsmjxT8-LbNlsD14WCG3xZwiTqGYmFJ5CxWonig9lS74Ii0tY_KLaCIxfvauY3t98D9C8Z6bjtcm6w_mfsa3V8swLECWdBXNtRxERN0yBEI0YSK/s1600-h/P10507531%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050753" style="display: inline" alt="P1050753" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4QKi09-YjX3YK4f0Mhkq7pqMn3QI_0CtTr6iLV2GB4kFL_tdji1ieH8JdOSVM4Q4ZxX_NRxWgPwqc-M2V3zXI9pM9g9rIJEWGe55KCbK6Jzp8xshopiMGGQv4hqC8s288trXPQU2f4lBo/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheb1Clzp8ID71j0us1vamwmrAcY8tZzRxIk2zZnla5p44CU8Dy19Z5_pYZXwM0F19d713yvmXWDYEDatMzBvE-XxVnDZET1mVBZ-NerM7GEdBr-0UMTLr5iJNSvzPjFdPqVJ9fDXVanUqy/s1600-h/P10507551%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050755" style="display: inline" alt="P1050755" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9e-VT0YqJil9Tqwfrptrpgxy0eTeqzWfCDkXozadOTeZGz6rIuWPDqgxbahO93rdEHcmnwDCHZm_YWfX-5pqZ-eXbYTT7BMC0LkprfyzFc7frzTEUZJ6-8wV5LekqJgXCZ-2RPuxoXcy9/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgPG_doU9pGn96VuIFciLHZ_YVFxCqp5U4zraztpXHdB2GjoZDeXFJwsxjtZDrRYvW8Vq4sAmIGMgukwpkLEluQkcpxsDTADfeilWMHcT9NmCBUhVNU9-0iR967jNIaocMhymcc3HRVJIg/s1600-h/P10507561%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050756" style="display: inline" alt="P1050756" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEKz-ET2pIMXhZa03MNw3oQKysSMM461cM4ZkvZsb2HlR7fFJlxuuOUOJKw_C8LP8zDvJGvG0mc4Yjxtb9O_jcY5MsF24dJDYlsqpEmsKYatafCflDqNzdf2PGPzHX9sCC9754qEJlftzO/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Second day off—check. Off for a good night sleep.</p> <hr /> <p>Waking up in Nîmes took a long while. Until the end of the tour, there aren’t going to be too many mornings not involving an alarm clock, so such mornings are very well used to get out of bed as late as possible. Breakfast, included in the hotel, turned out to be mediocre—not unlike the breakfast experience in many other French hotels. Seems like, in France, you simply can’t expect your hotel’s breakfast to be very good.</p> <p>The plan was to take a walk from the city center to a large stain of green on the map—a place called <em>Bois des Espeisses</em>, some 4km away. Quite early in the journey, I already knew that I wasn’t going to make it all the way there: the weather was just unforgivingly hot, and as the concert for the night was scheduled to start 8:30pm and include an opening act, I wasn’t quite in the mood to aggregate much tiredness anyway.</p> <p>Crossed the city center and then headed west towards another, smaller green stain on the map: a park called <em>Jardins de la Fontaine</em>. I knew nothing about this place before setting foot there: all I knew was that, on the map, it was represented by a green stain with some smaller stains painted blue, implying water.</p> <p>Heading west from the north end of the city center, you walk by a nice canal that leads to a fountain:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW5suL6ukTtQRd3DsiJTgDB-o94cU-Z1f73M3QWgBayjHNKWpuoS-EdzmSxvmTRpMAYPsH1Vld89pWObZdRqSip3LAIAMZJSzDf3b9vFBpjPag2CAVE6LDUV5nyU5JsFASXKVBjhkRS12f/s1600-h/P10507571%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050757" style="display: inline" alt="P1050757" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIttLwQgayMcLBCDQBMGMA20XVH6d7st_1K-HGj-EcJxYa4A4qahX_BDJlYxkK4U692E7BjPMxMX8CacspSOQAMrsrtjHbm5MoA2hBnRUbNR8F9xo3LLqxnGXCglgm1UNg1GkAxk1j1WRh/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzQxIjB-o0WKNTl9jRNKDVaI1QlAL4dKZo3HQHcYzpTg2IIkvjfIZPYqsEfXGiz43qShL_Ep-LM1yot2S02R2XyS7YoggvgFDOZxmk6W3Yi2k6C1jgutFJhij90hf0-ksTU4QwTXQvScM/s1600-h/P10507601%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050760" style="display: inline" alt="P1050760" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhctsW5lyowm06hY0O8JjJ_6ztiWi3lUFbFTBPxrPFoQXM8I0BDMJLrtoPzlVNo74_vcOzOIyWQsoo0w89tAu3j4bwMCGC6s3ZeLUtWVf_PCR1WY8Dg4Sdsbe472A2eZcs5dJFC5Uhaqw_4/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The fountain marks the south entrance to the gardens. I couldn’t be happier about deciding to visit these gardens—the scenery is absolutely stunning. I could hardly find any location in these gardens not worthy of a photograph.</p> <p>These gardens were built in the 18<sup>th</sup> century, surrounding a then‐recently discovered ancient Roman thermae. </p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6wnqDngnWLDjNsj8IkW4bT1lqmrdOC3pboCHC2NgsD7djcgBub4mnHWk1thwuL56iTW_9b4ioh2nM7yqLCFekBicDTW5GCKMiGxktUOgIroJMJueVmT6gRVhyphenhyphend6N4pRG6N-gGz0_JLnY5/s1600-h/P10507621%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050762" style="display: inline" alt="P1050762" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGlBI0iE1RQTH8pzRKbHofPiUOvKxxobPhrhD45UbzsNsgSDQ2TSG3zpqwrd8m8ZlGn1S6vPjbyOL10iYW3FFk9LOH0Nk4ndO-0I12oRDx2ePEbPIIjg9_9w9F5FMXkjwCfrCLTsTEEFjK/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a 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src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHv4Rg4RQ9nmF5Vd3iFd6Nelu0MW67e14phhuXoJHSYktZyFg2AOq1bYeEDmXptD6e1GPyEjP1Y65KaQVy4m8-XCmmr7BZr6CJj87w880q4LgjDZKTeVvXzx-Qi1hqXpPothVSnXXCMek/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8UBVVSjGSGYZdsiJ_R_ibYvFCz0e4Ocm9SyxFKoP71RFnQegnRDqEDDJ-PifqtybfNkrV0IHbbxeyf8oOW_gF-K9YQ4rem94iK9OpN7ucJXkc_8wE_0VUcxjMQnL_5RLiDWSBbDMGXsRf/s1600-h/P10507661%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050766" style="display: inline" alt="P1050766" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSlNpXZ0KV35U1VeBt4lIP05yq8_JHMY1D86Sk9uo2ZUXs2IBKTjAet-VUar0tsAuba0ExP4nNqz82-3ajGNRep7te4s-dKNZY9dnufi7vyRYurYeyZUTxOhgibilWFNGNK3KYQyl_fhi1/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kkWOyF64J1_GUJz4RtvAAbAVGoWtmnIMJHoKnTyy8bEGGx9dCtFXAIRIUhN3vxyI2CYy7edcVX84cnw1AuhaaD8HMyjtgH56KghL3OKKO90LMuYOGkAtG1Nlbcjg-GIH-bGW0-fh6t1q/s1600-h/PANO_20130709_112249%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130709_112249" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130709_112249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVcTBuV4uzr-hDiPs6s9WXA6cBJ-8zPUJ9BMTgcoZWVTTuJ45z_BFLc15sFa6ON9v3F4OHc5PXZlhQnOBk9Zl1XyYm8RqlHbVQNmG1cemGyw2UNhbCzRAjcR4hOrnJmVlPDYq0-w3-Gxc9/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="176" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqN3xpUCHY5Jnl-IWw2NZOif16fzzjZlraptUCjLrFN2Xtg8EZY9qaK-oGzFYhVIzqAzYwbj-YBdWa7i5w02xPwCYHONFBbcMvsbVgotvlQ9Jo_j1hjV5EhIIa_8-MmnHje5tewEEPBbtT/s1600-h/PANO_20130709_112618%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130709_112618" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130709_112618" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMsfNhEhWrOuo5RSuei4raRAOELvUI3jhkfeEGqkylU41w0TKEeTyLGT6xRQ2TGHFW4_xr1b0wtfYAcpdGTTQ__8IgLPu0Q1m1FiwkcX2RrVEYgcOuTkm3imfBDnLuEVpEzN-QXUqMlNYL/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="182" /></a></p> <p>Walking north inside the park, the path inclines…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkpYOq8MlMdfto8ZK1zZiKr7F4JHc0PPRKdiB69IHccdxOC84LL0FHRlpQIKX2szfQeQr_eMwN8FEIaGdPL8pm2KrmdwyqZ2Rud5TRH9VOb_08W-GxZmexz4wU_wl9FApeZPbUMgSB-lR/s1600-h/PANO_20130709_113342%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130709_113342" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130709_113342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbjwy9phM0hrI6sdUt5pxdcH-eUGo08hUeiOhCNGKEuzd7yb2kooT7uP_mOsFwVxO0c_rlrvpt6Y3gjkqH2-KNV6u4XGKaHcMY6_SEnMU86ikLcMUBGPXkAJMFjB_JhmfiBWm7fli0gGx9/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="283" /></a></p> <p>… until you reach the top, where another famous Roman site is located: the <em>Tour Magne</em> (“Great Tower”), a ruined Roman tower.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglleVN4vBnkFGNJ6H10cNYQQhaPs9uH6hczcV1T_eIeEzgosKoZgLuJXKRSywdUnLSN2IyCS3NTMgrSKojT3cbjmxw3jBRBB6taxiCCmDsyHEKy8JfszW0Ed2xtpKp1Nv1AktFgZ3kKC_H/s1600-h/P10507681%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050768" style="display: inline" alt="P1050768" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4sKoo8nFqFkbvxEBJ7KFapCPuPdO-_IAJWQSZPNykV2fUEV2T6SSK6uMpVutSB85srsxoiYKUIzDLFJCqDkhhCeEW_DEpCX4PSps_maszOZ-DeWsXIre4gdssCzs4o8DNrKuvN7LZwmb_/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEnYRkqNA2fYJKPp95Jo7PxOh9JLXquNWAEOGuh8k1-_sZeM5Xz1g_TpQeXjLs4eSGN7_wqOovVRLhyphenhyphen6Vvm6fpis8bmHk9nPt171yzu4AYwfzsJ-vYot2Wc-c9Pioz1J6lf99yJFl3UZDR/s1600-h/P10507691%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050769" style="display: inline" alt="P1050769" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1E3itASkJ1d8yOWGtSOyJHjINXqoxWfrFhikozaSrbFS2CMKRd7IE-641dEJBVQsBBv2-2MPbstAKEMDyeeLEmZuS67Fur0MTGWsmgD6qQNhzdp3xK7cdg9ktRr7BgvzdQSOUzWkrOOZr/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj03u8kTAl8rEi2QSc_sHoNGeBIsRoRlxOYYH1C3zCAbN-TZXUqmLtt7CXfyUhjB3MYaAai02G-wHHI5tkzbYIUBSR1IpXN9BWxbMCVIvd75EukuolG93qULE41X_Sl4E0d0bwnuhX2drdk/s1600-h/P10507701%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050770" style="display: inline" alt="P1050770" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdRR_bPmzJOkQtfMepHSdNvGi-zs9AgDMqejvX1zkmV97EG75QJ7QYkIFt44-dQ-M-lw9ZAAkotaDDS-wbBfNpGEYVH7_NCWdM_AuS60INtJCEdnrWH_R_ZGuPAFWr1MNhWEMXs9JHFp0h/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmO5a4c1yJYJiOOsLBe8GHaDCrXcJ4HMW14J3IK7MrRyw2OaIzwdgdW3pRkHxW4cKJXrUzljpD0Xwvsgkc15z52Hy8VcBEex-v_xPflp2irM4-cRznU2IS6VpsIiHjDBgv6MOMTDfKCrAX/s1600-h/P10507711%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050771" style="display: inline" alt="P1050771" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjrD0QXala1X98-nX0pz3S-umI3TSi76SaQjb_veVfh2zxzMbHhMbXglxfGwQPh_tC4a4dv2GXtptYkJ32RECIWnO6xOra4zQMb68NTgs3VEFYTfTAsw5QEFeEJVT4Thf6It2rW8vNq6nl/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Once arrived to the north end of the gardens, Jeroen decided to proceed to <em>Bois des Espeisses</em> and I decided not to. That’s it for me: can’t take this heat anymore, I ran out of water, please leave me alone, thanks. The Dutchman kept going towards the forest, I headed back.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3K2HCetsjTDUgMHK-8aqqLVBcpEuD9896act-DBNbPqesjUYII_x4x3kdc0C-7pVf8lr7nK34aPZJkZavyaDPZy5uKDOPi7DjHdCCDUcBrPipCSFQBYmjSR1_fA48RiL1XTjxaiSCuVpL/s1600-h/P10507721%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050772" style="display: inline" alt="P1050772" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakrxv9Q3fCcjrR6Z2F1w7m2m3lbdGwgH0_oAit3nDIJJ6Hs51B7BcYA68kgb5IPqx1SLmHvNHvFoaQczcxd5Omb7d8xyJF64YJXUmIjnHjmvOnb5afS6NJtMk81hhVviYVowJdZmvs99W/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="367" /></a></p> <p>Back in <em>Jardins de la Fontaine</em>, I took a different route to the city center, going through a different part of the gardens. I was happy I did: came across a few small tiny caves, where you can sit and watch water drop into small little ponds in front of you.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedb63bLQuw7GgY7dZouH4951TOye5F254NkVoVTKkgvdVJKkRHNfGykK5IeE5rK3ZH3pkhyphenhyphenSDQ830OKDK-GyiWeXeLQ3MQMllk27K3NRMcpZjEn39wzEOlBMtytL1Abb5dNcESR797u-a/s1600-h/P10507731%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050773" style="display: inline" alt="P1050773" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqlvlR91tjlzKauFnWHeB5Re9mH90vxkEz1HzX75ef4P5RPeKZ5Z98VRhiXGmJLT8FB66lg1-AgmeNaDhLDDfuqcoFGCUUM28ppTCRHsY5M7v-u4fUxeMQlOF6j_i_ufZ3_Bvn1FU_15H2/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglF7e-7pqscIfcRbm4v3g-HzST9ZVVriHbkfXC35g6ttpdKEE5mvpEfPeVSXACTu2mJkwifDTheQktb2mCOwHBa9ecCbfvBnkJehSS-dJ-Tt-FknDBb7I6lEAirvFUZ8AboPV-HnQ6z6eR/s1600-h/P10507741%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050774" style="display: inline" alt="P1050774" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix0YdJwltWcPBG7N9b_qe29jG1MPX1zK5b0myyg3xDPrzbt2oDp-33se1DLYKqJQ0-8eDMrECmBsZWdoxOPOf2XT1eGhSzY6hcFC8PQpN87SFQfsC_6zVhAC9C1kmGXgwnyvdBD55bOW9x/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7y2DpVBDLp30S54S1iJN8T20_wjhXBH-ab7nJTw_5l6TtPBFWEb9_p9R5TaAvWFT9ThNbj8ucswshtx0OOuo8ETT0Lt9OxhMyJIx6-0i1C5UKtLVJJOaaqnH8fVUJKv2MrCySCDxoQ3L/s1600-h/P10507751%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="P1050775" style="display: inline" alt="P1050775" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZTsJYA378WAJZxrdoVR1UnDYKgkocnSfWWY5PzsoBGcX1COalnOdw25gMQQLNiurYzVgedvCHhvjnAQ5YzaQEtZHFvDhbZSvTMKnX62P9xZuP5kAxLamEU_Ebnk5IrRZFioEsKDl_ilF/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="367" /></a></p> <p>All that was missing in this picture was my beloved Taylor acoustic guitar; that guitar in my hands, it’d take a bulldozer to force me out of that spot.</p> <p>On my way back to the hotel, I came across a cafe in the city center featuring the word “<em>Saladerie</em>” in its name. Salad? sure, why not. Might be a good healthy lunch. Lots of greens, walnuts and slices of duck breast. The French… what can I say, they know their food.</p> <p>Back to the hotel and I decided to forgo of any other activity, and get a good nap instead. The heat outside wore me out, and with a long evening ahead, I figured I should probably get some sleep now when time is on my side.</p> <p>Quarter by 6:00pm… concert time approaching. The plan: grab dinner before heading to the venue, as the concert was scheduled to end close to midnight, and with an early train ride the next morning, going for a post‐concert snack was out of the question. Went to Cafe Leffe again, good hamburger. Ate too much. The search for a pre‐concert coffee yielded no coffee bars—couldn’t afford the time for coffee in a full sit‐down restaurant. No worries: coffee in France sucks anyway. Headed to the arena, got impressed once more with how fantastic it looks from the outside, and went inside.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Last time I was here, I was involved in a miserable incident: just before heading to the concert, I went to buy a deodorant in a drugstore. Entering the venue, some thug working for security grabbed my newly‐purchased deodorant, assumed that it was a spray‐on and simply tossed it into the garbage without even trying to explain what he was doing. I recall being livid afterwards, as I searched for an on‐site staff member who understands more than a word in English. That deodorant was then saved when the stupid thug had to immerse himself in a bin of dump to restore my precious purchase.</p> <p>That thug’s face remained engraved in my memory; I was <em>that</em> upset. So, when approaching the venue this time, I was wondering whether I’m going to come across that lowlife scum dressed as a human once again. Lo and behold—he was right there. Didn’t even bother changing his appalling haircut.</p> </div> <hr /> <p>I was looking forward to visit the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arena_of_N%C3%AEmes">Arena of Nîmes</a> again, as my recollection has it as being once of the most beautiful venues I had ever been to. The arena was built by the Romans during the 1<sup>st</sup> century, and was changed in 1863 to function as a bullring.</p> <p>Nowadays, the arena is used for all sorts of public events. In the realm of concerts, Knopfler’s own Dire Straits’ <em>On the Night</em> DVD features much of a concert performed right here in May 1992. On another end of the musical spectrum, <em>Metallica</em> recorded their 2009 DVD <em>Français pour Une Nuit</em> in this arena as well.</p> <p>Stepping inside, you feel like you’re going back in time. Imagine: watching a concert in a place that was built nearly 2,000 years ago.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxRaRpR5VUCUw9mAKs_AeaT5NKrhNnSZmv60fq-ATEaWrwFGv8epu9yoo7NoKgRfQi4xmXgiUiHX82CPY1pcoi320rVfXRNb67shsqGUQ2aejyQ1AsGPT0CJ5QbQLnc7Qm4GOXqDwJz15F/s1600-h/IMG_18141%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1814" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1814" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhMDRy1ePmGfgXSVR2X1HuMupa55EqEU2XHJHskS6DwXqoOVNXLng_oPeRVuehDt-TwAd60KX5oKq_Oauco0vpD_bqLp-q9KkOuIYkzIXZox3fMjaQkuU9PDNjtr3x70zXHCUF81smQ5u/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCGI2aZ9qYVSKXnFE_84VibQQ0cdFviipghI4F28z7grb14SBVCimlttbnhBy9U4qMw4pTC6CTC7kdwepA3i8olSVmrGatjfc_UgiXyaEthKcgKXyk3QkGM_yZ6s1eQyn14wao0bBLk6zK/s1600-h/IMG_18151%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1815" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1815" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXHJZtIDU0yCznAHVpSZBFxMGsz-rscLehVl75wKXHpLD6eGG1jE6saQJ5fxcSkBLXS5_XjpwSoVrywuJqOXPdNtUXG0LVDhxvCJ0xJagzWRht13g8TtP0Vlweazujt6pz8ZTqzTtl7Ht/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I was seated at the second row facing the stage, but was actually more than willing to give up my seat for a seat somewhere in the back. I’m convinced that, in such a venue, watching the concert from the higher terraces would be a memorable experience. However, all seats in the venue were numbered and I was in no position to start asking staff for something as involved as this.</p> <p>At around 8:30pm, Paul Crockford took the stage and introduced a very special opening act for the night: Bap Kennedy, an Irish songwriter that recorded his last album, <em>The Sailor’s Revenge</em>, in Knopfler’s <em>British Grove</em> studios in London. Knopfler himself plays on it. <em>The Sailor’s Revenge</em> is a great album: I listened to it for the first time last October, as the Dutchman and I were scorching the USA’s west coast following a few Knopfler‐Dylan performances, and I still listen to it once in a while. Bap’s voice is soothing, accurate, and beautiful, and I was wondering what he would sound like performing live.</p> <p>Bap took the stage along with another guitar player, Gordon McAllister. Bap himself played rhythm on a brown acoustic guitar, while McAllister played the more involved parts. Listening closely to the tone of McAllister’s guitar, I knew it sounded familiar. Looking at the guitar’s headstock, I confirmed my hypothesis: you just can’t go wrong with the Taylor sound. McAllister, if I’m not mistaken, was playing an <em>x</em>14CE. As much as I know Taylor Guitars’ naming scheme, the “14” stands for their Grand Auditorium series; the “C” refers to their “cutaway” variant; and the “E” refers to the guitar’s ability to be connected directly to an amplifier (an “acoustic‐electric” guitar). I just wasn’t sure about which series that guitar belongs to (that’s the “x” part): I wouldn’t be surprised if it was of the 800 series, or even the ridiculously expensive (and <em>such as good</em>) 900 series.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Back when I was shopping around for an acoustic guitar, I tried quite a few. Each and every <em>HD Martin</em> I tried turned out to be a failure: I just couldn’t play them (although I did hear that the Knopfler signature <em>HD Martin</em> guitar is different in that regards and has excellent playability; never tried it myself). Tried many other brands and models. At the end, there was no competition: Taylor Guitars, period. Bought the 314CE, and two days later exchanged it for the 414CE which I enjoy to this day. The better sounding models, unfortunately, were unaffordable for me back then. I may reconsider this.</p> </div> <p>It was the first time for me to listen to Bap Kennedy perform live. I enjoyed the performance—essentially, “thinned down” arrangements of a few of his songs—but something was missing. It was hard, at first, to understand what it was that was missing, until it hit me: the audience. The audience just didn’t seem to “be there”. I don’t think it was any of Bap’s fault—his performance was very good—instead, I just think that the audience wasn’t the perfect match for this kind of a thinned‐down, “down to earth” performance. Another indication that it wasn’t Bap’s fault at all was that the audience “wasn’t there” right from the beginning. Shame, really: they missed on a great performance by very gifted performers.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFaD5IWb_2c3qLJ15fSrTVMeCHoYh00Uz9ykLY_Jr4rFRaegs4U2swiEwEH_Fh3pNKLvqyz8S4AV08Bb7duK6nO0l5N4YCEYsaZWBeqGNdT77ACiL-RSSjy7LP2X_nLtkUZsAjmg01bkVi/s1600-h/IMG_18191%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1819" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1819" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11z5aqGV6mq5f23JuI6XiVkT5fMNQTjpDQ5V3bPftiPai3i4SA41mqV9XR3yEedb3Hini0PORteGMtby4lilSMx9QHQpCj66uii1Ed5Q35VC3AprXOrMnF7Jqxh7Gibixkzrr19OSPBnk/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsS6ymKZHFFHKN-g21cNPJjY7H8B-tUxW7kQHWAFkx0JYdtkeMj_4YtdIN1rKmkxGVHY_3eWzFUbi7H3uzVR2w8P2bx1ksRXwbNoNWz6HHUE4io2iwa82Lk_OhqFEaoX8BkjmvbU5Ks9ks/s1600-h/IMG_18201%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1820" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1820" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLZBBpROJN8OziCAjLuAlWLGxlGLqN3M-GBcQHwTul6es89WB_xI-hORsAo_6wVvb5e_kXZoexxjZHGznszPcqIIZUdPQioFmEkX6n5yP0R3JNxh7Je6gz93OFPTiHkJUrnRejSnNw-xop/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikIje7tubjoHRgSd5AvhEmnVlPkRfpyrWSc0o8rz4gsZxlWG2-ImSSUiLwOEhiWDey-PTH3s10z9rAPsgBgje2KGagCCyKlmn6eUm7_wl32CZnsHJ36fjaM1rjUMPXm85FXf_aP3-6ZlPG/s1600-h/IMG_18221%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_18221" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_18221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUvTQG6Z2prgVUHg-k__tCvlOm0snAI25PlUcKcxfiHIR3WeZIa_bLV6yFpINDZJMwFLB857ZOlMVzCBv8vODpafJ8ArsmEGBK7GZB9bdbgXHfoInzXEefAFMKKwSmX1ax5r7dhZC_PuWo/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="367" /></a></p> <p>Thirty minutes after Kennedy and McAllister left the stage, the lights went off and the band kicked off its 53<sup>rd</sup> concert for this tour, and their 200<sup>th</sup> concert with me in the audience.</p> <p>Two hundred.</p> <p>So what did we have there? Nigel Hitchcock is no longer performing with the band, so we’re back to the original, Nigel‐less set. <em>Dream of the Drowned Submariner</em>, as expected, wasn’t played (as you’d need Nigel for the clarinet part; although, to my knowledge, Mike plays the clarinet as well); <em>Gator Blood</em> was played instead, like in the pre‐Nigel days.</p> <p>A short audio mishap took place at the beginning, about a minute into <em>What It Is</em>; most of the speakers simply stopped working at once, so unless you were in the front, you probably couldn’t hear much of the concert for about 10–15 seconds. Not sure what went off there, but it was all over and done with quickly.</p> <p>The band itself seemed fresh and rested, the audience—well, it’s France, so it doesn’t get much better than that, except for the endless chatter. Behind me, a group of 3–4 humans just kept talking and talking for about half an hour, until a guy sitting two seats to my left turned to them and yelled something at them in fluent French. I don’t know exactly what he said but an argument quickly ensued and just as quickly ended. They stopped talking from there on. Chatter was evident elsewhere as well. I’m not entirely sure why people bother going to a concert if they’re going to be sitting through it chatting their guts out. Then again, any attempt to understand stupidity is bound to make you feel stupid yourself.</p> <p>Last time in Nîmes, I recall a rather violent <em>Running of the Bulls</em> taking place, followed by repeated calls by the back rows to sit down. Neither happened this time: there was hardly any running, and I couldn’t see much violence. Heck, people ran wilder in England. No calls to sit down, either: good encore played in front of a standing audience, on the floor as well as on the terraces in the perimeter.</p> <p>Beautiful.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVaRUJhyphenhyphenJS9xoZ9P0d7k1QGRRZ-oBqR870R7bhlVQs2-Y3GR667d88Gc9xbe5Wog97dXh6sksHeIoM-AJV-FiLXOO2ltutDLnnAy4bBmqqcyYuxDlgOZJW0u8ftVL5jlv4XGQB4y-Cm0e4/s1600-h/IMG_18321%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_18321" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_18321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbhtnK_ggJyFJPbw9ieuYJmpKeKqoV30vy4uPwVmv169fRka17BewqzlZEc8aPH1v5RhI5PQyWX6wjuJs9izCqA_UYwFtV1WvzmV72qQK2IPc2vD_YdvTs-lSEKac2r3Fa8LixZsvsdgn/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlM3_5RUc7riuiCzLY2Ixmu-4bq93TPhJb0Ry3JSdTXcaqs-cJO0ZSMla0aUVw7r2SMH3RgXhX2PywBWtE3ZwbEa-el9jD9EwOuhKBjBsLmkvHkHdUof1PetiG9luIOgleTwgUGhU2FWwJ/s1600-h/IMG_18771%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1877" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1877" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinrW8nzf9aZrsR0RkL155Hd8d8heERNTY8AlBeQhAU714pktm93L2D9iDpq3B00FomAK85BKw1JCqalamdvIM0jDg42aW9R6fFDZHStY97KcyNV4BmG-01J8DcTYrhRIUp5SFzBsynl6kA/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyoykqpEEj1n4ENKUY69Nan0gitbikoH0rGC0a9eCOyU-i8cvESfbMdbwGkOGqAwZ882oTIOlLvndnQhna9BvlLls7s4LGohU_dtJvrgDm66DqdegjnCgZ-VnG0c46Wu2zl5nReXo-H0H_/s1600-h/IMG_18781%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1878" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1878" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv7pzN76wg2N3yFu6EGHr5abX-7Pkaff4kQ8Mi_HfkjFfdZeeVLB30s1i1oubq-0MmQws1_J3W6O_Slv0o7T8n-mGX7KGojvQaJ09pVJXD1ayR1oHuvYoR3nwVpGwwNcNDoUFe53h_iZ-R/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="367" /></a></p> <p>Concert ended. Headed back to the hotel for a good night sleep, expecting a long, <em>long</em> travel day to follow.</p> <hr /> <p>As I am writing these lines on my way out of France and into Switzerland, I think it would be a good time for a confession.</p> <p>Over the last few years, these modest travel blogs of mine have been receiving a great deal of attention. “No man is an island” (although I’d consider myself being as close to an island as a person could possibly be); naturally, over the years travelling following this wonderful band, I have met so many people—some of which I get to see more frequently than others.</p> <p>There aren’t many opportunities to socialize when following a tour—at least not when the subject is Mark Knopfler, who doesn’t shy away from scheduling concerts back‐to‐back in cities that span vast distances between each other; and at times when socializing is actually possible, I often prefer to pass on the opportunity because I’m either tired or have to conserve energy before a long travel day.</p> <p>Having said that (and here comes the tough part), when I socialize with people, I prefer to talk about… well, many things: life; the lives of the people I meet; my life; common interests. On the other hand, I dislike overly excessive discussions about topics that, for some reason, people assume that I’d be happy to discuss. Examples are aplenty:</p> <ul> <li>Any particular band member, their history and/or their personal lives. </li> <li>Past concerts, especially comparisons between them (which show was better than others. As if I can remember, really). </li> <li>What motivates Mark to do one thing or not the other; play one song and not another; wear one shirt but not another (as this is none of my business). </li> <li>Bootlegs, recordings, collectibles, signatures (not my thing at all). </li> <li>Set lists. </li> </ul> <p>Why? Well, that’s a topic I wanted to write about ever since the first tour I followed, back in 2008. Perhaps I will, some day—when I find the right words. For now, I hope you will not find the preceding text offensive or condescending, because it certainly isn’t meant to be so.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from the patio of my hotel in Cardada, 1,340m above Locarno, Switzerland. Yesterday was a very challenging day, full of strange occurrences. Heck, it was so challenging and tiring that I went to bed at 10:00pm.</p> <p>You’ll definitely want to read the next post.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-81752903227396054762013-07-07T15:43:00.001-07:002013-09-10T08:18:09.768-07:00The 199th: Bad Mergentheim to Stuttgart, Germany (July 6, 2013)<div class="indented"> <p>It’s July 6<sup>th</sup> already. Hell, time flies.</p> </div> <p>The hotel I stayed in in Bad Mergentheim, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g198542-d680646-Reviews-Haus_Alexa-Bad_Mergentheim_Baden_Wurttemberg.html">Kurhotel Alexa</a>, was located by the river in the quieter area of town, amidst a bunch of green. As a result, not even a peep could be heard while in the room. Also, the room featured curtains that could be turned completely opaque, which meant no light could enter the room in the morning. The result: very good night sleep.</p> <p>The original schedule for the day called for departing Bad Mergentheim close to 12:00pm, arriving Stuttgart about two hours later. Very easy schedule, which would have been perfect had I not been terribly worried about my wrist. The day before, while my brain was working overtime worrying about my wrist’s fate, I decided to change the schedule and arrive to Stuttgart much earlier (hospital visits usually take hours, and I didn’t want to risk missing the concert). The Dutchman decided to tag along instead of spending a few more hours in this beautiful relaxing environment of this spa town, so by 8:30am we were already on the platform.</p> <p>I’ll miss this place.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLm8s58wX_KNLmGaozMBD2t13OCAITC7h7klTIHyWhGReNzVpyuFtNrKSHaRqmasEhqW0LB3qx8PWz3G6k-oTBXjKuoMYlSoP5r2lQ4Pan-CN7Rlehx_Zh7QMGiXeWjotWmXCYQw05oqWI/s1600-h/PANO_20130706_081043%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130706_081043" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130706_081043" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOlZYiVMlGMdnJIM6uIGcyWVjUndc4i1rWbFUfyGl3lWt81um1B0slBvPqQMi-UTrNcQtBCxyETf4BHnI2mgHu_0R72iVVIXf5RVaA4NZCH40V3866TelADxbdzUXxci-rmwCXvdQBel7F/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="283" /></a></p> <p>Short ride north east to Lauda (about 10 minutes), in a 2<sup>nd</sup> class cabin full of suitcases and—even worse—people. Those rural trains… I dislike them. Started hypothesizing about what would happen if the longer ride—from Lauda to Stuttgart—was to take place in a similar train: nightmare. Luckily, after about half an hour break in Lauda, a more proper train arrived carrying good 1<sup>st</sup> class cabins.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I cannot possibly stress this enough: if you are planning on a long trip to Europe, relying on trains, upgrading to 1<sup>st</sup> class passes is one of the best investments you could make.</p> </div> <p>The train ride from Lauda to Stuttgart passes through typical German country scenery. Germany is beautiful. Those of you who live in North America might not think of Germany as a travel destination, and I understand why: it’s not really promoted as such by travel agencies or airlines. In North America, destinations such as Paris, Amsterdam and London are most of what you would hear about with respect to European destinations. I have never seen any advertisement <em>anywhere</em> promoting <em>any</em> German destination.</p> <p>Shame, really: it’s a beautiful country. I find it dumbfounding that people will buy into trips to Amsterdam and would consider it not exciting to visit, say, Köln; the latter is a more exciting destination than the former in almost every parameter.</p> <p>(At least, that’s my opinion.)</p> <p>It was once again a train ride of silence. I was almost as apathetic as I was the day before. I wanted to get to Stuttgart already, just so I can go to the hospital there and get a better idea of what the hell was going on.</p> <p>About half an hour before arriving to Stuttgart, the Dutchman bothered to look at the reservation for the hotel we were booked for: <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187291-d202440-Reviews-Hotel_Unger_beim_Hauptbahnhof-Stuttgart_Baden_Wurttemberg.html">Hotel Unger</a>, right at the city center. The price was €230 for 2 nights, and the reservation said that “some of the rooms are air conditioned”. Internet connectivity? Wired only, for €5.50 per hour. Who booked it? myself. Why? I have <em>absolutely</em> no clue. I’m pretty sure that, when booking it, I had a good reason to; still, it’s not a reason to not at least try to change things around.</p> <p>Two travel ninjas then fired up their mobile phones. Five minutes later, the reservation for the “possibly air conditioned” hotel was cancelled, and a reservation to a much better hotel (judging by the description) was made, for €62 less—for a 4 star hotel nearby the station.</p> <p>Arrived at the hotel—<a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187291-d656827-Reviews-Arcotel_Camino-Stuttgart_Baden_Wurttemberg.html">ARCOTEL Camino</a>—and immediately recognized that I’m lucky to be staying here. Beautiful. Room wasn’t ready yet, so I quickly changed to a slightly lighter attire (it was getting really warm outside), left the luggage with the hotel and rushed to the hospital.</p> <p>The evening before, in <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/the-197th-and-198th-halle-westfalen-to.html">Bad Mergentheim</a>, I met a reader of this blog, by the name of Dirk. He happens to be living in Stuttgart, and gave me excellent advice which hospital to go to: <a href="http://www.karl-olga-krankenhaus.de">Karl‐Olga Krankenhaus</a>, about 6 minutes ride by underground from the central railway station. A small mix‐up in realizing which entrance I should be using—well, I don’t understand German at all—but eventually, found myself at the emergency department.</p> <p>By myself.</p> <p>I mean, I was the only patient there. The entire emergency department worked for me.</p> <p>After a quick diagnosis, the doctor said that he’d like to see the X‐rays I took two weeks prior, in Regensburg. Loading those on his computer, he noticed a faint line that, in his opinion, was a fracture. It was very faint; still, I am not a doctor so I don’t know what doctors are trained to look at when inspecting X‐rays.</p> <p>A new set of X‐rays was then needed. Done on the spot. The new X‐rays showed that the fracture (assuming that it was indeed a fracture; the doctor said he’s pretty sure about it) has almost disappeared. Instructions: continue wearing that wrist brace for a couple more weeks, and see how things unfold. These things are known to take a long time to heal.</p> <p>If you are a doctor, or happen to know one, here’s the two applicable X‐rays: The one done in Regensburg two weeks ago is on the left.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicriGP240S9JaxPkDR3uig_tOb67ubIRZyEpKzidu51s0fKfPqNs_STmJmLa_APMt4Iy1dSbX-m-3i9kWiHbY1Pyb2T8LveEUa7PTqURorPirxcSygs3Qqwh1zsUBKcCE63iKpjc1aRXUV/s1600-h/regensburg-1%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="regensburg-1" style="display: inline" alt="regensburg-1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbQqDvjcrPjrv1OHx35AEi7uRHm_72cC37Rc5csa_O4HsjxSD1AJXgKvaQoJcaYA0DMDCyMlOLTfpLg3GSWyO8nF6iU-B6wSELX8r11p7fNcDU7kXYULwZ8MBrxK-Lt3JTi_H3BS6h8t-1/?imgmax=800" width="186" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStzTMyfpGd4p0Kd0yEI-nNUkXP-eiWZKQh5UfnaBxHmrXU8JflX3_0YMpDwqZ8g-X9VRZupEk2awEXtjooA6ckMt5e2EgaCax4WUWdIIyorAmEwOLBffnQ5DOobv_Rzf317sF8v-jbopC/s1600-h/stuttgart-1%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img title="stuttgart-1" style="display: inline" alt="stuttgart-1" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicXrQNfUrIFZD-93831zmuoSovwxrq2TwXN94e91QYAVbbpj1TxKfz1RUgRKgFrjOceulwkQwNk0mC_kU4_v7IptCxRXaFVSRopEDy5dXPelDzkjEvyAZXSz8F7-dTthE6NeSHlYpnyyBw/?imgmax=800" width="174" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Overall, I was there for just about two hours. Great service, and I’m indebted to Dirk and his girlfriend Sabine for helping me out with this. Hats off to them.</p> <hr /> <p>Back to the central railway station and went to the hotel. The room was located on the very first floor, and once the door opened, I was shocked: the room was almost as big as my apartment in Vancouver. <strong><u>HUGE</u></strong>. I don’t think I ever stayed in a hotel room that big.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Once I took a look at the bathroom, I figured it out: it was a room for the disabled. That explained the fact that the room was located on the first floor, and had ample space for disabled people to move around in.</p> </div> <p>Quick setup, sat down to do some writing, and before I knew it, it was time to leave again. <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/06/salzburg-austria-to-stuttgart-germany.html">Last time in Stuttgart</a>—about two weeks ago—we got a lead to a place offering excellent local food. As Ingrid and Maarten were in town this time around, it was decided to have an early group dinner. Delicious food again, good conversation, good times. A couple of hours flew by as nothing.</p> <p>Took some pictures on my way to the restaurant and back. Stuttgart is certainly a beautiful city.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkpyk2mGQnS6rV7NKcWT-Xu9uz5xQy6bnHM28zH7UCgEPkztqaKluLwlrfEinEBuTSOk7bKypnDIYRDUV_1yfpXBiTovYQl43D-03ceUkC8eWk9s-PAKLiMetUFQlNh7ujpWllzbp4IYG7/s1600-h/PANO_20130706_155923%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130706_155923" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130706_155923" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdCHELgFw8ycL5CS5jPdtKmDOHDWpnUJauuprEUoSlKGAeui-dsFKoD39XEtlwNQ3p_1Wlm2FSIiGEFDsf_tgTkBhYTn_htzlO8saebG2VWFC1qgEDye2LbjWYl3OmjoYm01L1Fw9E3yiv/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="223" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDEY_W1UA5ZNSVBVQoW381eYBGwDT-39ZmtNkYsUKVEuk7w2R70_VnvTE7m-PAwwNis9GBJCMe_JRMXC2W6830eDHf_APIHrZ8Di9yCMKPAJmqc_lXihFx9Qzzr5_uBKKDMDNgXOW8hpCn/s1600-h/PANO_20130706_175559%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130706_175559" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130706_175559" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6rg4Cja2xoD-Z1B3fCCIBniKtQa960YITkUytn6fENe7JwiuvcU8SKB5QgkE4Xgovzv1nmUIN__fs-bB4k33IT-Sls9Ur5iEEJfNVHH4O5FjvyLMSMvqCBz5bRJtDM-6QHFUAC52FEUJs/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="279" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi154JtuSd3PqDVHwbGST1vGx4RHCZTcok5O8R0a49ZlVtEYwFXjLaWIAQgrNZBtkiqzvkTLRzXj_D5CkwQTM4ei-V9edT4bntGws0qAwYPkV66lpsyNReuljG_LAJ-meM-zbOI3-qKa15Q/s1600-h/PANO_20130706_175614%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130706_175614" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130706_175614" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9aujK4KTNBkUEhlBqxkRXAb1qdFy7k0Uz_oNcn6u52EY_8nHt-ofqaT0LakUtdT1z-yJZPuCIuToAu68pdagb6qcAhJUU4JhffPOjA3htL-BpSvC18gzX0yjw0b8LsgI-U-X51K-wy8r/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="182" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0Jro5LOetfRfR7MSq_qcTSsR7GHEnEQsuUH1b-90Lhvoa9-Ih5EIpv0mP4jstohgWUFyZS6axkuT0qBfxE2N8mN1mYTtENdN8Wpa9S_D7sW_be5bjYkhch3dEmeA6jAymJ-SMaNr1SI3/s1600-h/PANO_20130706_175814%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130706_175814" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130706_175814" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7wzijGTlJMX7L5AK4-TbH36nE6ZqriU_YJvU2h74eRvePAFwOk7axX6jfOpYJhSBw_1uEaxGQvh3W8QuEDl4GfrlgB3GvZiG_kCTZK36FmaMESyQXPbn5fPT4java7r6s_iT7YxNG_qqq/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="281" /></a></p> <p>Back to the hotel, but not for long. As Ingrid’s hotel was located right next to the venue, it was decided to meet there and head to the concert together. Knowing that I’ll probably opt to stay near the venue for (non‐alcoholic) drinks afterwards, I took my laptop with me so I can do some writing while the others enjoy themselves. The idea of writing my blog in Saturday night in a bar, surrounded by dozens of people who treat Saturday night as a “night out”, did nothing to deter me.</p> <p>Dropped the laptop in Ingrid’s hotel, and off to the venue, a few steps away.</p> <hr /> <p>The venue, the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanns-Martin-Schleyer-Halle">Hanns Martin Schleyer Halle</a>, is located in Stuttgart and named to commemorate <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanns_Martin_Schleyer">Hanns Martin Schleyer</a>, a former Nazi SS officer. Sounds a bit odd? I know it does. Sounds odd to me too, and I wrote about it <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/06/concert-day-hanns-martin-schleyer-halle.html">last time I was here</a>. I never quite understood what prompted the City of Stuttgart to commemorate a Nazi SS officer by naming one of its biggest arenas after him. Nobody bothered to explain it to me, either.</p> <p>Arrived at the venue about 10 minutes before the concert started. Tickets picked up, and I went to buy some water for the group as everyone else headed to their seats. As I got to my seat, it wasn’t long before <em>Feelin’ Good</em> was played and the concert started.</p> <p>And it was certainly not boring.</p> <p>Before playing <em>I Used to Could</em>, Mark demonstrated the opening sequence as he tends to do recently. As he was done, he asked Richard whether this is “too fast for him”, to which Richard responded with “everything’s too fast for me” (which is, of course, false. I suggest you get a hold of Richard’s albums—<a href="http://richard-bennett.com/cds">all four of them</a>—nothing is “too fast” for this guy)—prompting Mark to report to the audience that “everything [indeed] is too fast for Richard”.</p> <p>As the band lined up to play <em>Dream of the Drowned Submariner</em>, Ian Thomas started performing the opening percussion sequence of <em>Postcards for Paraguay</em> instead (the percussion sequence during which Ian is normally being introduced. We’ll get to that below, read on). That was odd. I looked at Ian; the entire band looked at Ian; and the entire audience looked at the band looking at Ian. He then understood that something is amiss, stopped and said something along the lines of “oh, I thought we’re doing the [<em>something I couldn’t decipher</em>]”.</p> <p>That triggered quite a bit of laughter from everyone present in the arena; all in good spirit, of course. Once the laughter was over, the band proceeded to play <em>Dream of the Drowned Submariner</em> the way I was waiting for it to be played. So, as I expected (and wrote about), this song indeed needed a few runs to catch substance; and in this particular song, most of the substance (again, that’s my personal opinion) is in the outro solo, which is Mark’s territory. Up until now, it seemed like Mark was experimenting, trying to figure out where to take things to—and in Stuttgart, for the first time, it simply sounded “complete”. Stunning performance of this song.</p> <p>Get the USB stick for this one. Not only the performance of <em>Dream of the Drowned Submariner</em> was absolutely stunning: in my opinion, the Stuttgart concert was one of the top gigs in the tour. That shouldn’t be taken lightly, considering the fact that it was the fifth concert in a series of back‐to‐back concerts in Germany. Takes a lot of energy to perform this way after four concert days in a row.</p> <p><em>Postcards from Paraguay</em> is when Mark introduces the band. Ian Thomas is introduced first. This time, Mark mentioned Ian’s name and added that he was “dying to be introduced”—referring to Ian’s error from before, as he was performing the percussion sequence of the band’s introduction.</p> <p>Quite an eventful concert, but by far, the oddest event took place at the very end. At the very end of the last song (<em>Going Home</em>), Ian struck the drums as he usually does, then got up, threw the drumsticks away and just left the stage. By “threw”, I mean simply throwing them high up in the air without aiming anywhere in particular. One stick flew to the back, and one stick flew forward, almost hitting Glenn’s upright bass once gravity kicked in to bring the flying stick back to the ground. The entire band, minus Ian, stayed on the stage to bid the audience farewell.</p> <p>I have absolutely no idea what prompted the throwing of the sticks and the early departure from the stage. I have never witnessed such an occurrence before, and as this post’s title suggests, the Stuttgart concert was the 199<sup>th</sup> time I watched this band perform. I can only hope that everything’s OK back there.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Oh, yes. 199. I was going over my records a few months ago, and unless I’m missing something, the Stuttgart concert was the 199<sup>th</sup> time I watched this band perform—the first time being July 5, 2005 in Toronto.</p> <p>199 concerts in 8 years, out of which 193 since June 2008.</p> <p>I am privileged to be able to do this.</p> </div> <p>As the band left, something appeared to be going on at the left hand side of the stage. Someone seemed to have been trying to steal something from the stage. A figure (a crew member?) ran from the back of the stage to its front, and there certainly was some contact going on. Seconds later, I saw security pushing away a young idiot wearing a white T‐shirt.</p> <p>Earlier today, I was informed that the idiot actually went on the stage, in an attempt to grab the drum stick that Ian had thrown away before. The person who informed me of this stood closer to where the action took place, so perhaps they are more accurate in their description of what really happened there.</p> <p>One thing is for sure: it involved a selfish idiot.</p> <p>After the show, went to a pub/restaurant nearby and spent a couple of hours chatting with friends. Did almost no writing at all, despite my plan to do so. Good times, made me almost completely forget that wrist thing. There aren’t many chances to socialize when following such a busy tour, but still, I’m happy to have had the chance to do so.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Stuttgart, after a great day off here. Tomorrow: train ride to Nîmes, France—for another day off. Next concert—the 200<sup>th</sup>—on Tuesday, in one of the most stunning venues I have ever seen.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-55116469900294333922013-07-06T18:27:00.001-07:002013-09-10T08:17:05.799-07:00The 197th and 198th: Halle (Westfalen) to Dresden to Bad Mergentheim, Germany (July 4–5, 2013)<p>Thursday, July 4<sup>th</sup>. Woke up in Bielefeld, organized everything and went downstairs to the hotel’s breakfast room. Piled a few edible substances and sat down to eat, reading the news. Only the day before, there was a coup in Egypt: the military took power after putting the (democratically elected) president under house arrest. I’m not an expert in Egyptian politics (although, due to my background, I’m inclined to say that I know more about it than most) but my entire family happens to live in a country that borders it. Any sort of instability in that part of the world can easily cascade to neighbouring countries.</p> <p>“Why can’t we all just get along”, I kept asking myself as I was chewing on something—can’t even recall what it was. Done eating and went back to the breakfast stand, to check out the drinks.</p> <p>In front of me, there stood my arch‐enemy: An automated, all‐in‐one, “push a button and I’ll prepare your coffee” kind of coffee machine.</p> <p>I hate “push a button and I’ll prepare your coffee” machines. When checking out coffee places, the very sight of such automatic machine is sufficient to make me draw a virtual huge red X on the establishment and move on. Espresso drinks should be prepared manually, or not prepared at all.</p> <p>I looked at the machine, it looked at me.</p> <p>None of us moved away.</p> <p>Knowing that pressing the “Cappuccino” button will result in a disgraceful beverage, I opted at the button labeled “Latte Macchiato”. Hard to screw that one: 99% warm milk, with a shot of espresso. Even if your espresso is garbage, the milk should be able to at least save the day.</p> <p>Altogether a gloomy morning—one of those that you’d like to get over with already. One of those mornings when you wake up in a town in the middle of nowhere, and your plan involves six hours of travel to a city in east Germany—almost on the border with Poland; I was worried that Poland has some sort of an “halo of awfulness” around it.</p> <p>The plan: depart Bielefeld at 9:37am, arrive Hannover 10:28am; depart Hannover 11:36am, arrive Dresden 3:29pm. No ICE trains—InterCity only: that did much to ruin whatever expectations I had left from that day. Six hours of travel, all the way east…</p> <p>Arrived at Hannover’s central railway station. <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/06/concert-day-tui-arena-hannover-germany.html">I have been to Hannover before</a>, during the 2010 Get Lucky tour. I remember it being a beautiful city. What I also remembered is that convenient cafe located right in the central railway station, called <a href="http://www.worldcoffee.de">World Coffee</a>. They make proper coffee there, have lots of seating space—but the highlight is that they have a large patio right in Ernst August Platz, a small nice square located right outside the station. When the weather is good (as it was), it’s a perfect spot to enjoy a good beverage.</p> <p>They also provide exceptionally long spoons along with your coffee.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHImLQJYT8s8KyZ-intww-FzL88cLa9nhbrTsoF0L6_gIWOCSfsCF_XBJ6Jt43tugXNc-GOEiJ8Y6UfM6G5ZS50_kE382auf2x7F1uxb-mEUOc_QZiWZamelJhWoNlQ7DRDgBj8oA5IZxV/s1600-h/IMG_20130704_104330.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130704_104330" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130704_104330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2BcgfD5SbEXoa7plVGQR8me5qUBHLwHImrUhSDXIbEdJ6nawotjPxfUuhjC0VCQi5rx2D_VjhSh-O4Gynfhfr-hO2TKMiDOhEnSzF4wfY2FedVQrIGIBABO2DKJO-J-L_kccK_mVe30Hc/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>I asked the barista whether they have a bigger spoon than that. Failing to sense my sarcasm (many people do), she replied with an apologetic “no”.</p> <p>Wish I could stay longer in Hannover; however, the one hour connection time seemed to have flown by. Back to the platform, and on to another train, heading to Dresden. Four long hours, during which I was haunted by Jeroen’s earlier statement about East German cities being grey and boring.</p> <hr /> <p>I didn’t know much about <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dresden">Dresden</a> before arriving there. The only thing I <em>thought</em> I knew about Dresden was that the first bomb that the allies dropped on Germany in World War II killed a single elephant in Dresden’s zoo: turned out I was wrong—the incident indeed took place, but it was in Berlin. Realizing that I was wrong, the number of things I knew about Dresden decreased by one, yielding zero.</p> <p>Not only I was wrong about that bombing, but I couldn’t be further from the truth. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bombing_of_Dresden_in_World_War_II">Dresden was indeed bombed by the allies</a>; however, it was towards the <em>end</em> of the war, and while there is no record as to how many elephants were killed in that bombing (if at all), the bombing <em>did</em> kill between 22,000 and 25,000 people.</p> <p>Apparently, it was a massive bombing. 3,900 tons of high‐explosive bombs were dropped on the city over three days, causing a series of firestorms that demolished much of the city. So serious was that beating, that it triggered worldwide debate—even within the allies—as to whether that bombing was really necessary.</p> <p>Arrived at Dresden’s central railway station, which was under construction (are all central railway stations in Germany under construction nowadays?). From there, it was about a kilometer walk to the hotel. During that walk, it occurred to me that if Poland indeed has a “halo of awfulness”, it certainly doesn’t hover over Dresden.</p> <p>From the station, heading north, there’s a pedestrian walkway called <em>Prager Straße</em> (that is, <em>Prager Street</em>), which looked as if only recently built. Many people in the streets, lots of shops… wait, am I really in east Germany? am I missing anything?</p> <p>Checked into the hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187399-d1842234-Reviews-Holiday_Inn_Express_Dresden_City_Centre-Dresden_Saxony.html">Holiday Inn Express Dresden City Center</a>. I was in such a mood that I was numb to whatever was happening around me, even while checking in. Totally distracted, totally not caring about whatever was going on around me. Later, I was told that the receptionist was shaking her head at me while I was filling out the check in form, as if to gesture “this guy is a moron”. I was so apathetic, that I didn’t even care <em>after</em> I was informed of that head shaking.</p> <p>Internet connectivity in that hotel costs money: €5 per device. The reason I booked this hotel was, that even factoring the Wi‐Fi costs in, it would still be cheaper than most other hotels around. Jeroen bought one, I decided not to, in order to see how it works first.</p> <p>Up to the room. Jeroen headed out almost instantly, I stayed in the room to complete the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/koln-to-halle-westfalen-germany-july-3.html">previous post</a> and the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/dijon-france-to-koln-germany-july-1-2.html">one before</a>. That took a while, and then, happy that I was done, I started uploading it.</p> <p>It failed.</p> <p>Tried again… failed. Timed out.</p> <p>Tried again. And again. And it just didn’t work. Possibly the worst Wi‐Fi setup so far this tour.</p> <p>Headed downstairs to the lobby, hoping that maybe better reception will speed things up a bit.</p> <p>Tried once, twice, thrice… Nada. Timed out.</p> <p>Furious, I went back upstairs, dropped the laptop on the desk and notified Jeroen that I’m on my way to the old city, where he was having an early dinner by himself.</p> <hr /> <p>Very shortly after leaving the hotel and heading north, I realized how wrong I was to assume anything about Dresden. The city’s “old city” area is nothing short of stunning, featuring baroque‐style buildings—some of which have been restored after being severely damaged during World War II.</p> <p>The first thing you see heading north from the hotel is this:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIaJoCZKAxLRykICIBEJX_ocGSkvBjtjH1dfyqzjra4EC5fHrCqpwy5lr6-yWIXgslggNSAcdB9Yql6itFg5reJrEjo5Y1eclHChYTc65MCZlbsoG2G0xSg8Qpj0O-XtzvYIXE0qksHrMB/s1600-h/IMG_20130704_180902.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130704_180902" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130704_180902" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDYTT2_ROKFhTPHWsD1YGtqA0Xf9qDHVW9Nu9BJJotBTwvSbFb-_dixYoUOnWWvr5f7xuvSgQvXMA2fd9YP-BlVKa7v1StGsgcHq3oO6k0-1IOPtce-1QFVJrA6Pm-c-utzhfbdJ_jYy0/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>This is the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dresden_Frauenkirche">Dresden Frauenkirche</a>, a Lutheran church. I can’t describe the awe I felt when I first saw this building: it is <em>gigantic</em>. Its dome is one of the largest domes in Europe. The church was destroyed during World War II, and was restored after Germany’s reunification.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-TZF-4jTV48NkQSJJZ2Zi9rTSMJkb3TaFDj84A-h3F7rAH9ZTUiiNm93stiDf9tOZDDFFHe0vIWJZa_CW2myvgCdkk_AYD2G77RIhUdd_98K097y1p8_a91eqimCiGogC57Yu0XUjFOVh/s1600-h/PANO_20130704_180907%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130704_180907" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130704_180907" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghHHeYTvg385L_XlWMp6AUQLjFJ5c6_22damfYRyn-Cf7iV3_1rf3LPj-tYa1EapQFNM6VD-DPGYAeYS8adg2SZjzNYbk_ORp7QykjqwjbvYuiYEwa15G_8Wj_fafpnpc85R6qZIfd3O5Y/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="365" /></a></p> <p>Walked over to wherever the Dutchman was having his dinner—somewhere around this spot:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBX2DhyA-DcsSz9pUrzUEPts6hKju0pFPrbXhuTV3cJQxzCD_QGpiu52BtqCIt12IdWC8UEo_pq25cflNFAMk68XQ_Fok6Yo974WpUnry3v7vNsWDFZIoklyCiBV2Twz9FW7QD7AOFiNmr/s1600-h/IMG_20130704_181044.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130704_181044" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130704_181044" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN00Rx2J3tte67YNU0JXwqm8BhmEmEZ0osBrTqOA77jB6qSOOVOXDFZcMU30u3ZighupDqQuYLZwnMW0wHvcBrWe7tAHE-S0Z4rikQgFIcP4XkHopFhKtC1fzMVTZpD_z96K6RWcwP7s2I/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The Dutchman then decided that he’s interested in getting to the venue relatively early. I’m usually against that—I have nothing to look for in a concert venue more than twenty or thirty minutes before the concert starts—but as the Dutchman owned the tickets for this show, I had to abide by the Dutch rules.</p> <p>Fled back to the city center, looking for something to eat. Hey, what’s that? an Asian restaurant? good. Upon entering, I realized that it’s one of those places when you pick certain items from display, and they box it all up for you. But I don’t want a box: I want my food on a plate, please. I’m not going to walk around the city with your food in a box. But no, they don’t do it. Box only. And this entire exchange lasted about 5 minutes, because none of the people working there could speak more than one word in English.</p> <p>Eventually, resorted to a sandwich, a few buns and was given a cake for free, all for the staggering price of €2.63. Things tend to cost less in the eastern part of Germany, so I learned later.</p> <p>Rush… rush… and more rush… only because some Dutchman decided to be in a concert venue one full hour before the concert starts.</p> <p>Back to the hotel, changed my shirt, and headed north again towards the venue.</p> <hr /> <p>The venue… well, I’m not even sure it has a name. The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elbe">Elbe</a> runs through the city of Dresden, and on its north bank, there’s a film festival called “Filmnachte am Elbufer” (English: <em>Film Night on the Elb’s Bank</em>). The area is called “Freilichtgelände Koenigsufer” (<em>Freilichtgelände</em> in German means “Open air”, and <em>Koenigsufer</em> is… well… a name. OK, this is being too confusing already).</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I never thought I’ll have to put so much effort into explaining what a venue’s name means.</p> </div> <p>One of the bridges that connect Dresden’s old city area with the north bank of the Elba is called <em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Augustus_Bridge">Augustusbrücke</a></em> (in English: <em>Augustus Bridge</em>). That was the bridge you’d need to cross in order to enter the venue (as the venue could only be entered from its west side). Crossing that bridge provided excellent views of Dresden’s old city.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0aQLc7AIrDAxzS0UCVYVag0TuCRwbYGrDcBvLbOxn05KNphgpOjnnbB-BOOEZPHHT2uasxFJjJBH1XlGHdCzAGN1-Ef0AnRfxt0q10bv1IylJEx97AUpL6h3UdYbnsqCQ-HfZ7i-cCG4/s1600-h/IMG_20130704_190454.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130704_190454" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130704_190454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz1QE5QBwmCyevWxv3gmVN82aVUMXVJnJtVkNEZhONdMxWLhiQAu2IOm3muliyTWjfVhOC3BQNPGbQgB-L8oqQMAqpE_2T_p0kFrwRKHL0ROVKCKfaOx0GDcZxczzJ0aQ-BW1rkL_CjQnG/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjFF-IzWHkqUVE2MIQ7sZTmWTMJi6ZCvn3XN1vND3oyvL_qLvhtUqfsXWoMK2SiOwo6i71gmwpqtTH9lZycOh0yOBQ7GJkYLzWZtvyw7LdP4BmoEZoik96bbR0vGSwMyJd7tq7UnYUdg4/s1600-h/IMG_20130704_190545.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130704_190545" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130704_190545" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiteQgwOwFItU_7rdUk8EukULjiSLkaGt6WT3pGxgRMzmx_g3fTvpws8-YW4Ejf05ccaGc2dG9b8v3st90fWvk8hyphenhyphen0m8UZ0IHBnyu3tuIwYqegwIoYbD_nkR493OJmfOeSxSJ_GsVtl7PLw/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The next panoramic photo was an attempt to capture the old city’s view from the north bank of the Elbe, but the picture turned out… well… curved. Sorry. That’s all I have for you at the moment.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkGY3DrTG4-_7CR4azixByQQ1ujawvtRh2Gl20ZStExhQOUC1evHIFvTgyn-KJuCWwiLIEnRSDuXgRTLAOdJtuDlwyzyz7GODqpT-JI5M5vhddxQAImZBNEhsKnrPWrINHr6kEDfCaWA8x/s1600-h/PANO_20130704_192005%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130704_192005" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130704_192005" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGXgObOz1nr6lmuGYrUinyrTQ0F81eUuEF2HJGMs5iXUim4K-0UsapOOwKaNRIv5YYv_PhhXuJb5ng3jRUm4ekwOmcD52mBbB9k5SHCuLnSLDuLbP7r5xsQcMLvlIpfM6P5LNBnnWDbShV/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="215" /></a></p> <p>As Jeroen had already entered the venue, I collected my ticket from the box office and went inside. It was already very busy everywhere.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiwmEgyIv7bj5031USwPMdUPzxT4ammuRih9rjxtTP9m16l3mosbn1eyWPgEn6kWAYj043uPPzDV0uzWksUktik8zgt0Eg3IVQwMKv_WOnix1jen8EmbtoomL1eG6sw1VZtylVsmxm9oCN/s1600-h/PANO_20130704_192055%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130704_192055" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130704_192055" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifNaGGSjKQNLtt76Ci3F6XT4de8b2ybJJbivsh-9XY_dUs92fKwt2WhuKX9Z_Nj-qn6Ls7UQK9UpEiOoJXjQmfYxuPMPmS-IPyhhPeea6cRm8ERNk9uztISg7YLPJBMKDhjpRQfPrljvAF/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="221" /></a></p> <p>In general admission shows when the venue is more than just a pile of asphalt (such as a field, or a castle for example), I tend to prefer watching the concert from afar. As I have been watching many, <em>many</em> shows, I find it refreshing, once in a while, to forget about having a visual on the band and just walk around interesting venues (I remember the <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-feste-marienberg-wurzburg.html">concert in Würzburg</a>, of the 2010 Get Lucky tour, being a very interesting experience in that regards).</p> <p>Therefore, I spent the concert wandering from one place to another, getting a “feel” of the venue from multiple locations. I hardly even <em>seen</em> the band at all.</p> <p>During <em>Cleaning My Gun</em>, I was to the side of the stage, and the angle between myself and the stage was such that I didn’t see the band at all. Still, I realized that something went awfully wrong for Richard right at the beginning of the song: a string seemed to have gone out of tune. Strange noise. Richard then stopped playing for about 10–15 seconds, and then continued. Later, I was informed that Richard was playing the remainder of the song with a red Stratocaster. The sound where I was standing was so bad that I couldn’t even tell the difference.</p> <p>Wandering around the venue, I took a few more photos. I should really work on my panoramic shooting skills.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw2yIVuWHf9r3C2rBLwZUZRnNM9_NfEKuFxUw9MUaRqhOnaJIPREMFwlITmMfIZEIYhVrvDDmaLQHpKym9SyBiGaX9E4npxe0yh1JgvMnEoxT8Ei9rlY7LmT3l-YLJ7BmTW8UXXq3sjB0p/s1600-h/PANO_20130704_194818%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130704_194818" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130704_194818" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6cMckzvyQmDmu5W1Y4zwHrfkR6xvmx_2FD7bS8z97h_QzsuGKfs3uE-PQ7nSJQiGRv02414YTlp6673uh5mGJZIj1CaVUWC72n6IjHCPTgTKg8stPm1noSSFHvBXr0vSmmmxea6jJ_CKa/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="281" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdQKLqucv41Ll5xXdFPtIV5tHkdni6fzc7ub4VP2Tl23qP-0v71UOZyLYKgNzwajuM-c4tyxyNxrJKPAXm7zC0YABqc2prljPWoQgbAPvh7WtQzkfZ-YyvKkgpdMsaGIeOxdgsLG_Rx10/s1600-h/PANO_20130704_212301%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130704_212301" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130704_212301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-uoRz_hblMI8yf59tbDqBKCt9NEwZeSxtiJn3Rf2s4n-UPXkkai3UvXxR6KILauLLzEmN__oI37YpVmyI5mE84U9ZX_yZNDa2xBLWeo3EatKIlFmDltsz8DJ1Jz6a30IstggbdtnZO-0/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="234" /></a></p> <p>As it grew darker, the scenery became better:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jJNWTMaQ-2J_AXsWHACQMR0RXmZRgM1V4OAchcrJCqU-TeGydfwXc9q-vOhCaY4yiaW8c14zUkA5yRn6LeDfNcCPR3wIw4ecqU26NfL9kQ8vkLZ5zwIgnrRj4-9c2jPNe69c7KPKxhrX/s1600-h/PANO_20130704_214309%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130704_214309" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130704_214309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Pd9txGhIM4VezcUo61rLJGo-5NhTaNYTCNAVjaTtxUkJdsGf_k9mUahoVTFXjK0Kv3IqOXrGew-K_GTOuwvBOD_coVVjcLxM3fH1GrI62JsXhz0qEBp8LWY3vPf4-zY_LSNkFyBU4FX5/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="277" /></a></p> <p>Was good to listen to <em>Dream of the Drowned Submariner</em> again. For this song, I climbed up to the very top of the venue, and went for the middle, to get some good sound quality. The performance of this song was slightly better than in the previous show in Halle, as Mark’s work on the guitar was a little more involved. As I mentioned in the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/koln-to-halle-westfalen-germany-july-3.html">last post</a>, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s going to take a few more runs for this song’s performance to become incredibly pleasant.</p> <p>After the concert, exited the venue very quickly (I prepared myself by watching the encore in the vicinity of the exit) as I figured it might take hours to leave the venue once the masses start marching towards it. A few more shots of the city at night time, and off to the hotel.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UyWMj1P-MtFLnZUcM8s1J4D-mQl6i7ku1xwg0ByoCvkkINSBJg-BHgIwd3tYlyR2ua1aZWbnGwLnr4ulL-TntoxAtPP7PCXUMEhQdYcPdZh2hMnCmhUJURqT6eVWlQxfIz6_gHmZdyb3/s1600-h/IMG_20130704_221709.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130704_221709" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130704_221709" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrl83p57vqLQol-16mWrfjNgCFy_HZwap1pzbAC2JpRJcBVvivRpYm4SWQNPHNGpGVXcUSg0TA-NKK1coBATa91W5bXsirA8V9BFK5ofpUmXg7WBTSCi2khjz88pADS4yIB94_QrdW0Rif/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIM8WBPwrlVfFBxUGQ0oqWKj2Dz2j7ZVtBPNsu7aIWqXOKUjuXJoBX_M8DzxZVPedaMrylVEvkUhVxMEi6U6xRqXRGU45URHi1osjhfMZ9_AbncE8AOliGzp8FOTOfxt03XknusaH6n3Ns/s1600-h/IMG_20130704_221718.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130704_221718" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130704_221718" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjeRkUR-HZBe8sNGQuBD6YlUC_jcRD505aWiDMwHXCMxnwBd2PxdSAs0jCQgMVCL8jl2D8ZQdLANymy4k1ewS516QseufgqsQuuoKGm1H57OGXuamL3l6JTss89SuOXjtEimnf5FRzYcBp/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Back at the hotel, I tried uploading that blog post again, and failed. Went downstairs to speak to reception.</p> <p>– “Are you aware of the fact that you have terrible problems with your internet connection?”</p> <p>– “Yes, we do.”</p> <p>Nice. At least he was honest.</p> <p>– “Are you going to do anything about it?”</p> <p>– “Well, we tried telling management, the director, the owners of the hotel… but nothing is done.”</p> <p>I love honest people.</p> <p>– “Interesting. So, do you think it’s fair to continue selling Wi‐Fi for €5 per day when you know that it’s not working?”</p> <p>– “Well, I’m sorry… this is not my decision…”</p> <p>– “I know, I know. I’m not blaming you. I’m just asking you if <em>you</em> think it’s fair.”</p> <p>– “Oh. Did you pay for the internet access here?”</p> <p>– “I didn’t. My friend did, and I’m using the voucher he bought.”</p> <p>And then, something wonderful happened. He went to the cash register, pulled out a €5 bill and handed it to me. I was less impressed with the actual money than with the gesture itself.</p> <p>Back upstairs for some sleep; the next day was going to be a long travel day.</p> <hr /> <p>Friday, July 5<sup>th</sup>. Woke up… yawn. Fired up my mobile device, took a look at the schedule: Leave Dresden 7:53am, arrive Fulda 11:42am; short connection—leave Fulda 11:55am, arrive Würzburg 12:28pm; leave Würzburg 1:10pm, arrive Bad Mergentheim 2:13pm. More than six hours of travel, starting so early in the morning.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>To better explain how that day went for me, I should take you a couple of weeks back, to the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/06/frankfurt-to-regensburg-germany-june-19.html">Regensburg experience</a>. While in Regensburg, I decided to see a doctor about a pain I had in my right wrist for the preceding two weeks, after I had a nasty fall in Delft, after the UK shows. X‐rays were taken, the doctor saw nothing, and advised that I should simply let my hand rest, which I did. I was also advised to have a follow up visit if the pain doesn’t go away within two weeks.</p> <p>So, those two weeks were just about to end. The situation improved, but still, I have pain when bending the palm of my right hand upwards. Unbearable pain, actually.</p> <p>I heard a joke a few days ago, saying that “men are never sick. They’re either healthy, or dying”—obviously referring to the fact (yes, it was actually proven) that men have a lower tolerance to pain than women. Whenever I’m ill, or in pain, I’m a complete mess; not only that, but in such times, I tend to move between complete apathy to anything around me, and extreme agitation.</p> <p>In other words, I’m not your ideal companion in such times. Ask all of my ex girlfriends, they’ll reaffirm.</p> <p>So, this time, as the pain didn’t subside within the prescribed time (two weeks), I became <em>really</em> worried. Two million different scenarios of “what if” kept popping in my head. Therefore, keep in mind that, for the entire day, I was completely apathetic to <em>everything</em> around me. I’m pretty sure I didn’t even speak to the Dutchman at all for the entire train ride to Bad Mergentheim. Felt completely disconnected.</p> <p>All I wanted was for that day to be over, so I can catch the earliest train the next day to Stuttgart and get the follow up check done. I desired to hear good news—that this pain is going to go away at <em>some</em> point—and became completely oblivious of <em>anything</em> else that was happening.</p> </div> <p>Moderately acceptable breakfast courtesy of the Holiday Inn Express, and off to the central railway station.</p> <p>Spent the entire first leg of travel—almost four hours—dozing. I think I actually got a lot of sleep done, somehow. I didn’t even <em>try</em> to write: not only I was not in the mood for anything, but the frustration over the inability to upload the last two posts was really distracting me from writing anything that would please any sense.</p> <p>Approaching the end of the first leg of travel, an announcement was made that the train will be late at its destination, now scheduled to arrive 11:54am. This was horrible news, considering the fact that the connecting train was scheduled to depart on 11:55am. That’s one minute to change platforms—and the platform you arrive to, and the platform you’re connecting from, may as well be in two different ends of the station.</p> <p>Brilliant.</p> <p>So, I spent the next little while figuring things out. Turns out that the train I’m on was supposed to arrive at platform 3, and the connecting train was supposed to depart from platform 4. There was a good reason to believe that platforms 3 and 4 were adjacent to each other, which means that all you have to do is simply depart your train and jump to the other side of the platform, a few meters away. But, then I remembered that I had seen stations before where this arrangement was inapplicable.</p> <p>How to do figure things out, then? of course: by downloading the train station’s platform plan from the internet. Neat. Unfortunately, I lost data connectivity too many times so I couldn’t download the damn thing.</p> <p>Fortunately, as the train approached Fulda, another announcement was made, saying that the connecting train is indeed at the other side of the platform, and the departing train was instructed to wait for connecting passengers.</p> <p>Phew. Good. Thanks.</p> <p>Everything worked like a charm. Arrived Würzburg on time; spent the break consuming a sandwich, then hopped on the last train for the day, heading to Bad Mergentheim. That was a “regional train”—of the simpler trains that Deutsche Bahn operates, used mainly for travel in rural locations.</p> <p>And, indeed, the train did go through rural locations. Beautiful scenery of green hills and postcard‐like views of beautiful, simple, old houses along.</p> <p>Finally, arrived at Bad Mergentheim.</p> <hr /> <p><em>Bad Mergentheim</em>. Ha. Interesting. I remember when the tour’s schedule was first published, I was looking at the name “Bad Mergentheim” and instinctively started wondering whether there’s a “Good Mergentheim” somewhere which might be more worthy of a visit.</p> <p>It goes without saying, that I had never heard of Bad Mergentheim before. “Another place in the middle of nowhere”, I thought to myself. Indeed: it <em>is</em> in the middle of nowhere.</p> <p>Turns out that the word “Bad” in German means “Bath”, or “Spring”. There are many small towns in Germany having the word “Bad” in their names, and they all essentially refer to spa towns, or resorts of some sort. Those “Bad” places is where Germans go on holidays to.</p> <p>The hotel for the night, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g198542-d680646-Reviews-Haus_Alexa-Bad_Mergentheim_Baden_Wurttemberg.html">Kurhotel Alexa</a>, was located a few minutes walk from the (small) central railway station—to the north, while the town’s “old city” area is in the south. Heading away from the busy area, the scenery became fantastic (see photos below).</p> <p>Booking accommodations in Bad Mergentheim was a problem, because we couldn’t find affordable rooms offering twin beds. Therefore, we ended up picking a hotel that offered single rooms, and got two single rooms. For the first time in over three months, <em>I had my own room</em>. Oh, how I missed being <em>completely by myself</em>.</p> <p>Extremely friendly staff on site. Up to the room and the first thing I did was upload those two posts I didn’t manage uploading in Dresden. As soon as they both uploaded successfully, I felt as if some weight was lifted off my soul. It was good being back in business again.</p> <p>My friend Ingrid made her way from The Netherlands to the concert, picking up Maarten somewhere along the way. The two stayed in a hotel nearby, and plans were made to get together at around 4:00pm.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>The concert in Bad Mergentheim was a general admission concert, scheduled to begin at 8:00pm. Ticket collection was scheduled to start at 4:30pm, with <em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket purchasers being allowed early entry to the venue at around 5:00pm, before the doors open to the general public. That’s paradise for people who insist on being in the front in a general admission concert—but it comes with the price of having to wait quite a long time inside the venue, before the concert even starts.</p> <p>Everyone has their own preferences. My preference is to avoid the wait, and use that time to wander around.</p> <p>The other three decided to enter the venue early, which is the reason for that early meeting.</p> </div> <p>The venue, <em>Schlosshof</em> (German for “Courtyard”), was located right in the old city area: approaching the old city area, you’d take a turn to the left and you’re already inside the venue. So, as soon as I got my own ticket from the Dutchman, I bid the trio goodbye and went on my way. I had more than three hours to see this beautiful place.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji_Fj5EhpgrFc4vkXs_uWeYB0ynlMFAEJpvH8BA68UYZe6QuBelAr4kEK9l14o_laWut5qfb-dX8nMDUilS984hkw8F6FmHTua6FKhWx9aSBMq65ToquD0y3N4Y6UmAKcuerTPaf836CNR/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_163615.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_163615" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_163615" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirfzHQkpiY9FgEfzmV-gRWMt3UQUvbr6kMq8Wa103x4oRz2bLCfHrGL7bRT6Os40xjCBCTomPtT9vzGnmI8EWf9Qy4zf0NBGdbB_RRqklAGPbLb0BNPODcBWmBHsE27PZEgUSOSY-DmXWE/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKAB5B2U-jw58E5TXKdobqwWbUat4fKto5pYdUZCMYPt7rTNsh8Y8XQmZJOp970QBZczLlJlrKBFTMTPmtHVfG-KlVFtjldATdxPqd74Yw74YsTMSeA1xABl01_VwSWn7lJoJeuqX7Lsb1/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_163625%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_163625" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_163625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNl4S-kWpOGu4CZsmfhu6e_1xFQ9VeWw-6WcFJMbcwFhvZ8NKJvd7_nXNNyZWS18R6ak_I8HYaoYcjmrVIXAl6d6Wft9cUPIWUeSPEy4t-hb-TRaPCUrrjpPKE8CAoDUGSZJ02bPQct81/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFbi9xL44mQidD-xa4hW734vUCsD9SXpMsj5jxDEccrTIOSGZwiOJPwDTLAsoDqhQ_wr0VWmFnMqV5fg4uPX4rfwYaBPUZ97_VSmAPCFMUkjKuVY7q5nTdWaRxl1kCEHhNJequYS8Z3dv/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_165104.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_165104" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_165104" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqmGDTOBFIO6R0cxrJxWUtMzyBCXdtOD6wEX-RlemtP7fjJuP05Qj-8kU60iBuViletux9LzrBW3mTVMGBYR9jVo5mxwJE-5P5QQg6EkkpHGjMBPfZYPnR_6tVHAN4ioK5eF3ablzO7Seo/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih5sRn5Cc2q6uCiAulODBvVHMQBQXV91w1UUtslSYMibj288Rsn3EUpK2d-awwhyRzRdAu7TFM-S7cWjT1rXE2zPR-uPW1a5czX2QUIj_-zaLxbljVxBL_N56WqY_nTIegJ4sPOihbsmFK/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_165405.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_165405" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_165405" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSoUA4jSJVqx1OAEOxC8OsoRSLj8Je0AlpLdYT5oOXqnxNGOVBPS9cz4rub3MWI16f9Q3XXOCm7dVq1RhstLMG7nlt1lAWjdbkFsTitnL3PJ_LRJqEpLslHnKj1YplOO1Ly5PvtVwGA7rg/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p><em>TripAdvisor</em> pointed me at a restaurant called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g198542-d3206640-Reviews-Zunftstube_Poseidon-Bad_Mergentheim_Baden_Wurttemberg.html">Zunftstube Poseidon</a>, offering a Greek menu. Food hit the spot really, really well: delicious dish made up of rice, lamb, vegetables… excellent.</p> <p>Kept wandering around the picturesque old city area…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEReATYSaOsro0yACDQp7-1bRgysUg-hRBYLwmTlPPwMuqEr9luoe3xR3_6z4JsrQ6xYuqf7mFqPpEaswY4ycudnr6g14cO0E_G12ZC7okWAqGq0pkqSTqP2oO10oXqAGSzZGWWcYweUtS/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_173223.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_173223" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_173223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNXhvPi7PoHYbcncc3ghItwaql9h1qgZJ7Zk6iKqbjyhVSijr6MGTgUDTO6oDQTKPy5RBKVLhCcfVDzmAE3L2QfYKzR23dluqnm9zYDtL3ehd9PCEjfxBGpEsfaK3-axMPHYC3wTZHvEjU/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF4No2cfz86f5brCCI58jhG28JNbKnmigBXxLf7IOtap3V8aULkDLTrP3mjhNiH4E7Gjfx2Iwr9f3BOICydshq9bS0ECHteIhHnjGXHINTlIUzjmdF3l1ZB7r5OeHUWI2HRBeJ8pMLdJ0v/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_173438.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_173438" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_173438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit_NeCIJiRiaNQmop_Ppoau4aMlk7BXN03grnhXpTAek73zpElMHQcWpTFFeMzzWp-GUZzMvDhriqdrGOT3Qb9xhI916UkhsGzL2gnYeZG1lXFxAhJL4C0G6QKCxTMT3NsyHw45sbPuSNe/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcU6vX00cfcRZwAZHamUCQwBmg-NojKtTtj_69gHAl4Z-8heYu0sV3NYJ8OygKtZxqw4eFUMD-iInk3uGv7RuNU6xgNPWLZP5TfnE_mGLG3lbeiK1KD3E8tvjfzqj54FSkkhhBo5eKCma/s1600-h/PANO_20130705_173555%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130705_173555" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130705_173555" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD2pZbZzT7veyBXwl3mxGBL8y0nutyV79YLkJICoAwsVEohUhfmCNM7e58jR2ZC47gsQqh4nixEzm_eQmPGOZQjRhJqovFAXIjDyIKIlZPu-HwcdS6uw0q75LWz1zr58McV6c3e47SIkY6/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="217" /></a></p> <p>… And after some good coffee in a cafe nearby the venue, I decided to go north of the old city, towards the hotel and the peaceful scenery around.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebeHg_9YXQ1i1e0KN4gGz8BhzC5wcMUuzERkjq9NukAr5V6G_CCrTECovm4oM_cfmz7mlbSKIFGFDcKb2-CzqgRfnCkrVkTvEllyTjDLbb8qR6C_s1DVZNEVy2lebtrXfy_SVG2FPbiyC/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_174605.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_174605" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_174605" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1BbmHqRW9uWnQg_kWa0_KaJwZpcCyLlWVPY7RIuLH1n12ITpE0qJ1y9PnGA5j0zM4qm6GmKrpD4JVeolQKMrXWMUeqcFzuC47y_ddbk9vO-NA-R8H_qMBjqF868fodUO2kngbCfxQmNrv/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxjcY6YTniAeIusKgJhLoSmjMhIu8R4KfSFl7e-qgNtVFl5vVMWUik0RDpncwHjyVgTrlfAp0eBY8sbawvIAJ2ITLTtJ3AxK3orrvIRQz9LRvcVx10NLbc9JShCix5780CZfCBHRDh5tR-/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_183723.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_183723" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_183723" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6cVSaMxbDRZA6lIoZabVXlFzmze8hEMHA3d6Uj7GrnINpcW24k54smCZnsb9xlhVY5PzuMWHKZo8Cmq_WhIW4NPzj2XYuoK96UNKxNYYlSIsGO2BNklWUtNjUyr_C9yj43nErWLVJJfc/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A really nice river by the name of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tauber">Tauber</a> flows through the city, right behind the hotel. That provides for excellent greenery and an extremely nice walk, which I, of course, took.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk54A_MF0ub3dAhIN9D6J-pfd-cDfJjTU7wC9CaKvHQdcxzn4f9sFpJXLhYDaYRqBpNGDx0pciZjVUzifAWkyIXl_4CbybKy-ciw_1bCLDobvK0FlQ7SizHrr5AoWNKepAKADKKGZiPzJs/s1600-h/PANO_20130705_184521%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130705_184521" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130705_184521" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6U-YH1afwJWPGVsmCGxU7xr7pnV8jfNsxBXayVpsd0OpFkdn9kdcyU6Bxni06JPF8IhMfMmG4BfguJGvzL7VvysUYz-kPqI9YG80ijiVd2vvMjObWz3wMHnLV_b6tPK_BVSV0dEHEEkHa/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="285" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjalrXY4eaSYUdfmRy5uD9hZn6FHexiDBCIoX10XmsfuoHvTfyfLZX8jX-1eFVhApjdmBXJASQ5jOfXTjpsc9_R2bR-piW2x33v1QEDAIEWKuCFQ_UcUTGP9Gyhx5rnve5KdMeFpUsFHnv4/s1600-h/PANO_20130705_184539%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130705_184539" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130705_184539" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPkIi6nVnOLBvpdCPQlkMTcxSoHAyeDcU4R-DpvzqttuGK5Arw0oa8sN5pcGPyu5ZL19jQUEucWXeDEdMpeVbzCFemEfLcaPyCfiRPC4OfdoJJZvz34cFUJcyTGbt-6ACO2oNss4PK7JW/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="221" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN5ewb9e7TaQu3UXzFerd5yDm6qNB2_Nb3QMy2klp25Gw9MW3Uk4ysRK4cMtDIPk5h8kBFxrejC78mA9NCnnBGJCL_g9l_S0pPrdE4JxufxC-3Xv7491bAULfkSdBfDljIabd_4gqvLO9l/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_184813.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_184813" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_184813" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4D_E4el-5PsegwM44O_SLKdt22RezhnbJq-vV5WZq72H8OeapF8DMQeQPh5NV6ae7vN2F0kV_itVQrLEgeGhoNWvlItYrVcrkno8M1mAPIZ10IU97P-Xqzz_UxPHWbphFukFK0o3zyjnS/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwUBH7n9TRVRvam6F4D70m8AGj-QmffKSobcv42q8JkVVLX7wS5D6vS8VxBrCpkaRhCxCCljqb4-4g-v_rveAnV7xhLTnjwP_ixg2SKRn0ylkKUseEAFhLIXWoA2iglkcvMJVxTKgfE1Xj/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_184848.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_184848" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_184848" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5Xfjv9pcMlQAu0fZI4fzu_7TMJauH9BbbXi23wml-CGWJcI1Yh_sDgQ_8ux9DtSdkfVY1jIe80CSqp1kyegLelhumfZwwOtwb1gKeuQ3Xq9nQPez1hroBPQ5LX0OYJwuSkzFFhs6UgtK/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The walk along the green was a truly refreshing experience. I spent eight years of my life being based in southwestern Ontario, where the scenery isn’t much different: overall, I didn’t like it that much but what I <em>did</em> like was the easy access to such peaceful environments (of course, British Columbia offers that as well). While living in Ontario, I spent quite a few days taking day trips to places with similar scenery, often accompanied by a guitar.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I really miss playing my guitars.</p> </div> <p>Time was nearly up, so I headed back to the old city area.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGnkABv8dXdE3wn4KDjxjE7tRgcmw4XUPRbQl-RW9ftfbvz9gKb4Bwy_DFgtNpBgEcZbmiwLQj6C9qUeKBbez6-MVn3hP45nthiacCqrJ_Zn4d14dtM-5Cj2soVW2sHVieHsAJ6cV16N0_/s1600-h/PANO_20130705_191745%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130705_191745" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130705_191745" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplhQLIbTOzO2urcg65bH1-faLfAmRqSn18ErEG6bVHpKmQP2crACdaWl_F9YTEYaxC-aEjh3BjAMovMQ2OAnA-1itGR1SbZMXPy6u1ijVr4fMoCzXqvjitDmvd10A9Kt2AOZdT2GEYY-M/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="217" /></a></p> <p>A quick walk, and then entered the venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-8DeqPhvup_wDjpVGtE12jv9VzTo6u2qu5WL7SS_au0l-5IybtUPot9YSl5t-0rpl439tRrm0YyQQgVODDwfwJe6mqjsy4kpr7mloZ07XCBXGRXbwGT1EdpbHNnEzSaE50tXsK2UD5A0/s1600-h/PANO_20130705_195257%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130705_195257" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130705_195257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwarC9I1_R5EUZhyphenhyphenigYctP-NeUyBWGlgcpYYlYwir_nPJhBThk4Tz1aL4qLAV4kF8YtwZX-wKhS68kcT2Z7z-bf7AVWRqmKH8xLd8bCzxmVpunu7_APnZCqRhiUz1zSU_HOM-vRNhzQ_Le/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="217" /></a></p> <p><em>markknopfler.com</em> ticket purchasers also had access to an area called “Front of the Stage”, which is the immediate area to… well… the front of the stage. Such ticketholders were given a red wristband, which allowed them access into that area. I headed there, but upon arrival, realized that the place was already jam packed. Again, I decided to listen to the concert simply sitting on the grass, often walking around to see the venue.</p> <p>I was then identified by someone who happens to be reading this drivel that I write here. A guy named Dirk, who was accompanied by his girlfriend Sabine. The two are from Stuttgart. We started chatting, until I remembered what I was going to do in Stuttgart the next day: hospital visit.</p> <p>To my extreme fortune, the two took the time to explain to me exactly where I should be going to seek medical care. Not only that, but Dirk went ahead and made phone calls to a couple of hospitals in Stuttgart, and later came back telling me exactly where I should be going—a clinic specializing in wrist injuries and the like.</p> <p>Wonderful people. Thank you very much Dirk and Sabine for your kind help!</p> <p>Concert started…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCb4XxvSGvTpmCXSqDbyNki0Dw9mI7psPJIBIGzynwr5RPIwDu-J2m5typzcMwm6MykeKH8T8sTbL8ZsDMWsLust0-D3y_7AhQ1GboXEH2PRoLnZhvyz9Ec2GgBadsnOK9XJS1D8F9_rN/s1600-h/PANO_20130705_202252%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130705_202252" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130705_202252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlHMcbOCgrvzbeSGkj0GHw52vM-LUCudUuN8kASgQGb2TaqvbQOE5f5r5Ju74SU5O0aXZHJtvAPelTlU32Q-CdL_TYTV6nWiNhdqIbsjRaCvuzDS_AAnNLolunKfi6lbICtQpgfVCQGe0J/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="205" /></a></p> <p>And was, well… very good. Very receptive audience, except in the back and in the sides where people seemed to be much more concerned about consuming insane amounts of beer and chatting with each other. I will never understand why people would pay so much money to go to a concert and then spend the time there drinking beer (which would cost much less in a proper pub) and chatting with others.</p> <p>But still, what can you do.</p> <p>I believe it was before <em>I Used to Could</em> when Jim Cox decided to show off a nice piano riff, prompting Mark to ask him to “do it again”, which he did. Sounded lovely. Mark then looked at Jim, looked at his guitar, looked back at Jim and said “I can’t play”, triggering laughter at the audience.</p> <p>Similar set to the day before, and the concert ended after just about two hours.</p> <hr /> <p>After the concert, I took another short walk through the old city, taking blurry photographs. I shall carry my regular camera from now on; the phone’s camera doesn’t do a good job when in darker environments.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3quCkTVkgPxtDmRaidc5cFdxEUPkt7g24QDHcNIDWTDzdLy4HkMQ4wqW-XRlt3o0NeRcwP-PP0N8l5i1rZNcl-WjQQ4NR8iu-p4D3Umr1lkVY6BMI2-YRL_s6f4jAnHFOd14aR1g9NeJ7/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_221404.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_221404" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_221404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnf-zpldVLfpV39YtFIvLuLqM-finNr2m8WQ-sFH7WWZ1gIYvvDqKy3pacMJrnE644nJ9mhywvE-zkI93f8sXygE1iG0mxry-jtLTi0NyCyb40vg6UGcRWXdIX7IdHfd3_EasOLaL0f3Jy/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXmMiOHiFC7UfbWrjM521dkuK3M142MNzG4O2qpMHO598rpaD5ZESzfUXOzGkHt94oXSLhyphenhyphenCZ1eq6snJ4AbULHBl0vM3N-QnJ-1clZlt3qXtedxSLFmO8xV7dPQ4LoeNa_QYIGLT7GIrDb/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_221438.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_221438" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_221438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi58jUzQJNpVkxC9de0oTxhuPUCGfyXoipCWgfewmkwa5KjcSlen8NICSfqEUz0wa4TRy4ypydZIE_d1KB4yMHLbLNBKFKPBxPQFh-hbc2O9dsETqd-I2mTbwzuLWM7R6xonf8HqmJ-g7cc/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrydzIJPQiZ-blDFXreRDwahNSRjdZ4dBOZoXZu1g89jeec4z1to9iDKFmt4N_OnXBFwTa1fpv9BTA9YGqhIUFYPcfDxRN14TpSrxIi5JcWYIIiqt43pwOa-o_9NG6aZaObViFRakQZgP/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_221616.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_221616" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_221616" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1l6uHoCCB7OqffqXwjgDJ6Qkbre1IGlcAGWwQXFKqfXrHwBVB9FDLXZZVAg46uO5CIxj1OXlaaLOnhNA8URuiIWViui7GtvqZRpJYHrsG96iiopT-Ce3AgSteSIb3XSaq5IDJUuOoFu13/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxgEBCdq37y_5jBbAnO80huML1eydoDbfGY4gAZZD59Gx9yu5s5GaoHXXgvrotZsZpTciE40ntpLG_HORVIZDXenSkoowEO6a4pAbwxobRTSFO-wW1owIHq6qv2Br16CTcqvrYSX6VZCJk/s1600-h/IMG_20130705_221936.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130705_221936" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130705_221936" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWKV-LErWYz8sY-NQrZxgpUi5AouVYfTW5jefx1T3yREJtCmb395Q7N0RjkQKFKkdwsJF7vekSCbAaFuFOIdh3TCJJlH6zQrgx83p3xIqmwA-auqSb0Ou4zlaFuMNeBEGceQoEmHwGeSy/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Right after, late night snacks at the restaurant that operates at the hotel where Ingrid was staying. An hour or so spent over drinks, desserts and good chat, and then back to the hotel to catch some sleep before catching an early train to Stuttgart the next day.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Stuttgart. Been a very eventful day today. 3:19am… better catch some sleep.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-34286473841761083152013-07-05T05:46:00.001-07:002013-09-10T12:51:13.949-07:00Köln to Halle (Westfalen), Germany (July 3, 2013)<div class="indented"> <p><em>Note: this post is being uploaded along with its predecessor. Had to accumulate a couple of posts due to Wi‐Fi availability issues. Make sure you check out the previous post: <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/dijon-france-to-koln-germany-july-1-2.html">Dijon, France to Köln, Germany (July 1–2, 2013)</a>.</em></p> </div> <p>Slightly less than two days after arriving at the beautiful city of Köln, it was time once again to decamp. Woke up tired: all energy that was regained during the day off in Köln seemed to have evaporated. Opened up the window to find out that weather decided to play another trick: after two days of sunshine and fantastic weather, the buildings and sidewalks were all wet. People walking around with umbrellas. The rain was back.</p> <p>The original plan was to leave Köln at 9:48am; however, as Köln proved to be such a fun place to be in, it was decided, the day prior, to push the schedule a little bit and depart at 11:48am instead—allowing time for breakfast in that wonderful restaurant discovered the day before.</p> <p>Nobody, however, took into consideration that the weather might change.</p> <p>Armed with rain jackets, two wanderers made their way through the rain and through the city center all the way to the promised land—<a href="www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187371-d2711655-Reviews-Cafe_Eigel-Cologne_North_Rhine_Westphalia.html">Cafe Eigel</a>, exactly where breakfast was consumed the morning before. Great breakfast, followed by a prolonged period of chilling out. There was no desire whatsoever to even leave the restaurant: what for, really? they have everything required for human survival. Great food (including mind‐numbingly gorgeous desserts), lots of space, free air to breathe… and where the hell is that “Halle” place that I need to get to later today, anyway?</p> <p>But, plans are there to be followed. Back at the hotel, grabbed everything, checked out and headed to catch the train. No incidents this time as the train left on time.</p> <p>The original plan called for travel from Köln to Halle and spend the night there. It was tricky to book a hotel in Halle as there weren’t many options to begin with—not even one twin room available anywhere, which is why two separate single rooms were booked.</p> <p>Later on, a closer look at the travel schedule revealed an inefficiency. To get from Köln to Halle, one needs to take a train from Köln <em>east</em> to Bielefeld, and then <em>west</em> to Halle using a regional train; and in the next morning, to get from Halle to Dresden, a change of trains in Bielefeld is required once again. To avoid this redundancy, it was decided to spend the night in Bielefeld instead, as it would save some train rides. From Bielefeld, it’s an easy 30 minutes train to Halle for the concert.</p> <p>Intended to do some writing during the train ride to Bielefeld, but shut the laptop down after a few minutes as I realized that I can’t really concentrate on anything due to tiredness. Less than two hours later, the train arrived to Bielefeld.</p> <p>The hotel booked for Bielefeld was called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187368-d4055082-Reviews-B_B_Hotel_Bielefeld-Bielefeld_North_Rhine_Westphalia.html">B&B Hotel Bielefeld</a>. Now, I may not have enough travel experience but, for me, a “B&B” and a “Hotel” are two different things. I would associate the term “B&B” with a nice quiet house, privately owned, in which rooms are offered to guests along with home made breakfast. Also, it was rather suspicious to find that the rate offered by this “B&B Hotel” didn’t include the second “B” of the “B&B” package: breakfast has to be paid for separately. Silly. Call it “B(&B)” instead. Or “B&maybeB”. Or “B&mayB”.</p> <p>That hotel, located right across the street from the central railway station inside a complex that includes a movie theater and a few restaurants, looked brand new.</p> <p>Checking in. Two nice ladies in reception. I started suspecting that something might be wrong with the reservation as soon as one of them mentioned that we had reserved a “French bed”. I don’t know what a “French bed” is, and I can’t recall ever encountering that term before. I wouldn’t book a hotel room with a “French bed” unless I know exactly what it meant, and I trust Jeroen wouldn’t do so either. For once, I am not entirely confident in the properness of assigning nationality to furniture; and for twice, the plural suffix “s” was missing.</p> <p>Luckily, the mishap was corrected on the spot. Then, I was informed that there are available rooms in certain floors of the hotel—which one do I want?</p> <p>I thought about the first, most important criteria.</p> <p>– “Are the hotel rooms quiet?”, I asked.</p> <p>The receptionist looked at me as if she has just unravelled a brand new type of frog yet unknown to science.</p> <p>– “Sorry?”</p> <p>– “Are the hotel rooms quiet? is it quiet in the rooms?”, I elaborated.</p> <p>– “No.”</p> <p>(????!)</p> <p>– “… No?”</p> <p>– “No.”</p> <p>(Gulp.)</p> <p>– “So I guess it doesn’t really matter which room we get, then.”</p> <p>At that point, Jeroen, who speaks German, decided to intervene and translate my question to German. So, the hotel rooms <em>are</em> quiet after all. Good.</p> <p>– “Would you like to have breakfast tomorrow?”</p> <p>– “Can we decide tomorrow morning?”</p> <p>– “Yes, but we would highly prefer that you decide today, so we can call the breakfast provider to let them know.”</p> <p>We decided to think about that one. Up to the room, did some writing and before I knew it, it was time to head out for dinner. That’s one of the downsides of staying the night far away from the venue: you need to have your dinner early (unless you’re planning on having dinner at the venue, which is a very risky thing to do. Don’t do it unless you know exactly what the venue offers).</p> <p>On the way out from the hotel, a different receptionist. As the hotel’s reception is closed late at night, it was unclear how one would enter the premises afterhours—say, upon returning from a concert located 30 minutes train ride away. Also, the hotel doesn’t provide keys, or cards, to enter the hotel or the room: instead, they give you a code which you’re supposed to be punching on a keypad.</p> <p>– “So, the reception is closed after 11:00pm, right?”</p> <p>– “Yes.”</p> <p>– “So, can we enter the hotel if we return late?”</p> <p>– “No.”</p> <p>(??????????!)</p> <p>– “No?”</p> <p>– “No. There’s nobody in reception after 11:00pm.”</p> <p>– “We don’t need to check in after 11:00pm. We’re already guests here. But can we enter the building if we return late?”</p> <p>– “Yes. Just enter your code on the keypad outside, by the front door.”</p> <p>Sigh.</p> <p><em>TripAdvisor</em> suggested a place called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187368-d2025851-Reviews-Westside_Lounge-Bielefeld_North_Rhine_Westphalia.html">Westside Lounge</a>, about ten minutes walk from the hotel: an Asian‐Italian fusion restaurant. Sitting outside on the patio, beautiful weather: fantastic dinner for a very affordable price. Jeroen’s starter arrived with a small bread that was baked on site, over coal: I can’t remember when was the last time I had such a tasty bread—France included.</p> <p>Terrific. Great food in affordable prices—I’m developing a whole new opinion about dining in Germany. It’s convenient—restaurants are open most of the time; it’s very affordable; service is usually very good and efficient. What’s not to like? I’ll need to dig up some of my old notes from previous tours to see why I wasn’t a fan of dining in Germany to begin with. Something has changed… either Germany or myself.</p> <p>Back to the hotel, to get prepared for the concert. Weather forecast suggested that it might be raining, and as we were going to take the train back to Bielefeld after the concert, it was necessary to prepare for the possibility of spending some time outside.</p> <p>Back to the reception, as we decided to have breakfast at the hotel. Same guy as before.</p> <p>– “Is it early enough to order breakfast for tomorrow?”, asked the Dutchman. Now, a normal person would phrase the question in a more simplified manner, such as “<em>is it still possible to order breakfast for tomorrow</em>?”, but we’re talking about a Dutchman under stress.</p> <p>– “No.”</p> <p>Applying some logic to the aforementioned question & answer, it’s easy to conclude that it was too late for ordering breakfast.</p> <p>– “What? So we can’t order breakfast anymore?”</p> <p>– “Oh, sure, you can.”</p> <p>Sigh.</p> <p>Arrived at the station, regional train to Halle left on time. Two or three cabins, all 2<sup>nd</sup> class. The difference comparing to 1<sup>st</sup> class is evident: it’s noisier here. More crowded. More children, which amounts to more noise. Half an hour train ride, passing through rural hilly areas… certainly not the landscape in which one would expect to find a concert venue. One station past Halle’s central railway station, arrived at the very small railway station servicing the venue; left the train and followed the crowd.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiplCEKY614TOFdt8ZvhOT-ZZyYvY-lCHyLWqgTQmJg4xt1BKN8Abp8pbA_G_7HrA4WVGrEsADRWYBa5OZOVjUNxK-YrDUELzXNbRi_LMwvDvwjYBQySZXTZdmVsa2FL7cV2UThyphenhyphen9mtznrn/s1600-h/IMG_20130703_183016.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130703_183016" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130703_183016" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiFvVKB-QGyT_e3wDTgIFl6zHwQldexm-4IMzU9skZpGAXQp87fWrxyMcb7SgEgZtmaqKTAmstIdsHbaGGOaSPwLOU8_osa4Cl4FTPIOVgGdti0Tqf5r3HKyvMjJEz0AmOXsjZDJxkaF3j/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>The venue, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gerry_Weber_Stadion">Gerry Weber Stadion</a> (<em>Stadion</em> means <em>Stadium</em> in German), is an indoor arena located in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Halle,_North_Rhine-Westphalia">Halle</a>. There is another city named <em>Halle</em> in Germany—a larger one, by River Saale. To differentiate between the two, the larger city is referred to as <em>Halle (Saale)</em> and this one—the one where the concert took place—as <em>Halle (Westfalen)</em>, or <em>Halle (Westf.)</em> in a shorter form.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>You might think that the Gerry Weber Stadium is named after an individual named Gerry Weber. Seems reasonable… but I couldn’t find any reference to such a person. There is, however, a tennis tournament called <em>Gerry Weber Open</em>—a tournament that takes place at (drumroll, please) the Gerry Weber Stadium.</p> </div> <p>Walking from the stadium’s railway station to the venue, I couldn’t really believe that there’s actually a venue there. The surroundings were such that a tennis stadium simply wouldn’t fit in—almost farmland.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKAhpL-ClsuhnHHRuLQ11ktUwQvFtaEvOATBPeENd1I2TUXW-b_95ziVJzSzYmYshzW7AnAXi7gi8V9Xs9R4k960rpXleGLJkvBVz3Wm1_vrQyS6vEOYJ6GyteFG3SLGGBMkaaMPamUME9/s1600-h/IMG_20130703_184927.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130703_184927" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130703_184927" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgywq5qcmG44JuCjSnqNX8nXwjTe0sK2EKwqguTfcPcbb4zgGXy2K6ot9Z3k3_9jNZNKT3mE5Z-5_2EB1P-wz4PMgLsuAyAadXzDSGP3JEWjeLxw5THyeWT3xzS3NCFUZnzyyJTs-UmTM7t/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTkEbz4Ojq-vX7yJghbENr0tc39E0B3ZvZNajLFEpT93Y3DjFtng4vm1m5w0Fom0k_uCauUeP6K-x5Zu0HxrDCtIFdMVkJhyphenhyphenewI760dqOcv5oDqKb-FjO-CQ4ASIXLD1tHnvpngYgsS7g5/s1600-h/IMG_20130703_185016.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130703_185016" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130703_185016" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc4d-FxZ9fyoF-uCpkhlYiaENp2zBzZ1V9wunqxk6Y91w74raO09rUdyLvz1dW9NsqDPcsZqpNOdbbnAGSQv_HYbjoGy8TtaPP9x2_AyHTDCQjhg_dfZVQyhbHDKTan6npSdRuyeZ5Ckh4/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>After picking up the tickets, I went ahead and walked for a bit around the venue, to take some pictures. Turns out that this is a residential area. There are houses located within less than 20 meters away from the venue’s area.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXQNcZ1jp4e3_nudal1nr4aVFULgvHDd0QRCsEKy3nza5Wf5tE0LK8gbOQo9Ba0b9IRpk8ti_oJ7rwY8D28XLp9iap9EaoClYEL7T31bO4l-yvymx05FTOTAAW23KnxN5TfARITQjqhBKb/s1600-h/PANO_20130703_183926%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130703_183926" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130703_183926" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmt6DiBikV3SmpWSh07xZ2jo73teRTXgGGKDmXGszQkToiQsOLMVaJ_iQuiBCYE0qe7CvLDZt2x2muzj5zF3vQUcQUPstIy6dPjELPzBblwK_QKoPiVz9AhFg9i01g5Ty-fb78ZyLN0NX/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="215" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuY4QDt7pA2RgFvRlI1sm7SIEBde-Phb8pp_xKPnVbaFG1RrDs_YFEalzU6iQWs_FY1jBMmTib2EGRmxGpuHTzo7j6T0iPfNpIwOxV_WjnoHl9XGgr-Sb4HJlRNnYGjdIc-7kEfgLNcDGl/s1600-h/PANO_20130703_190449%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130703_190449" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130703_190449" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57K0KP47lnEfk8qlvKZGWllS1O8dmeLhek1uNjizb3_tyuEkv1SiFJOJ8yBdTRieHP_v7kMkJnJdPMBEo7ORk1VEWFE2z1wLIEtOMR6C2yPPaa26dXRcaP12rmXQXRXnf1YJlUL4uS8l3/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="223" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwQ7wsB1ikIQ1Z8Vpp4bnFwwoHcFVcJbD4hu7L5nxCs5o65SZASWMENkAv27OhiULk82wZhY0_UG8jjOGP7bJ5_5OvavjJLHzrdv8WVG6OO7oPFMMPuAlGKXFtlVM05Br4XoW7Zi3JdUt/s1600-h/IMG_20130703_190039.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130703_190039" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130703_190039" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFgw6tK6bHxZ0dZ3HXdCCalZAdUTMgTJGDrORxzR4qtMN2BCrYKKUZ0Ul-7YCRsAySzxIcTpVxXW9LCKr6gWzmM-WOi3JNfrdrEFHpoRAZepVv0E8BtxlNQlTRmVCJWGDy3KJoUEwFavSe/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It was nice to get a breath of fresh air in these quiet surroundings. Time was up—back to the venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuKLlWaDOwUVhbf2zggP85ETS9OPoWS3O1C5r-G3LbxW8MFquAleCD1oOVsGjsHgDHr2e8P_b1HCLaGehqi-DTNPDDJ4NU9if7P4qBfRC2Ul847ptnbnVp9qSHyte7a7xRF2NixKDoFrKQ/s1600-h/PANO_20130703_190712%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130703_190712" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130703_190712" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2HUkCPN5y29UCrh9KqAJrzsRVUxUTNn-YMLFhIzjOagSDTpFhbOLykijFuqDzyRrU6QzoSs2oubwbIjdqDcnVHr3AjFoSZMsjrXmWjrwaMhrcm0jppHXEaRzvgpLOWHoYPxRnApdd2lIb/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="164" /></a></p> <p>The venue being a tennis stadium made the concert experience very different from the usual indoor experience. For once, the ceiling wasn’t opaque, and didn’t cover the venue’s perimeter shut; as a result, there was pretty much free flow of light from outside. It gets dark late in Halle during the summer, so most of the concert was performed in daylight. Strange feeling… you’re indoors, but still watching a concert in daylight.</p> <p>The stadium can hold 12,300 spectators for tennis events, but the seating configuration for the concert allowed for up to 7,000. Still, the venue felt surprisingly small. The feeling of a small venue, together with the daylight, cast a special atmosphere of casualness and intimacy.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI1IX3iOqityc12fKEfEQSdc1ZNxT3EONgT6wV8pMVjtJ-Upm9RTRQBh12pN6XoQVQ6Zt7H3ooRIDbZP3OmygScbIEQ8C0lgW7msevu4E-94E2uzf7HK3YFutfPs15-ZekvO_jINrSOn55/s1600-h/PANO_20130703_191434%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130703_191434" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130703_191434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNRQj0fYz1qiMc-yclk-Ar4J5L0JVsyy_JBXbcDqVL14ppn_jYqfNLw25bsSt6VkpIjWe6gIXs-HtyFL4Lnwje2QFd9WlbGufg3r-KErW2kvVLTJiBGL7s-67tpaNyTYD9ZgpnqKFMwE-W/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="228" /></a></p> <p>The band started with the usual set, featuring Nigel Hitchcock who is going to be joining the band for all shows in Germany this week. After <em>Song for Sonny Liston</em>, I was going to take a quick toilet break when I noticed that Glen Saggers was holding a Gibson guitar, to be played by Mark in the next song. This is very strange, considering the fact that Mark was already holding a Gibson guitar in his hands. That meant that the guitar switch was needed either for a different Gibson sound, or a different tuning.</p> <p>Richard grabbed the Telecaster, which prompted me to think that maybe it’s <em>Back to Tupelo</em> again. To confirm, I looked at John: John plays a <strike>mandolin‐like instrument (can someone comment and shed some light about the exact name of this instrument?)</strike> cittern (<em>thanks, Benoit, for the information. I was under the impression that citterns are bigger, but apparently they come in different sizes</em>) during <em>Back to Tupelo</em>, but instead was holding a flute.</p> <p>– “Look, they have Nigel”, the Dutchman mentioned. I looked, and there was Nigel there, but he wasn’t holding a saxophone. What is this? a clarinet?</p> <p>Can someone please explain what’s going on?</p> <p>Eyes back at Mark, and I noticed the capo on the third fret. Third fret? what could these guys possibly play in <em>Cm</em> (or <em>Gm</em> or E♭ or B♭)? My brain started emitting smoke for all the computing it was required to perform along this time span of about six seconds, when Guy played the initial <em>Cm</em>.</p> <p>And so, yes: in the small venue in Halle, a small town in the middle of seemingly nowhere, a new song was introduced to the set… and what a song it was. <em>Dream of the Drowned Submariner</em>—as far as I’m concerned, the most moving piece of music in Knopfler’s latest double album. I have listened to this song so many times before and, admittedly, already lost any hope of listening to it performed live.</p> <p>An unexpected arrangement, too. In the studio version, Mark plays both an acoustic guitar and an electric one: in one particular section, both guitars sound at once (I’m guessing that both guitars were recorded in separate tracks, then mixed together). All the while, an electric rhythm guitar is played in the background. The studio arrangement can’t, therefore, be played live; instead, the acoustic guitar went away; John and Mike played flutes, Nigel on clarinet, Richard on the telecaster for the rhythm part and Mark with the Gibson.</p> <p>It was evident, though, that Mark was quite undecided as to which direction he wants to take the outro solo to. Much like <em>Kingdom of Gold</em>, the outro of <em>Dream of the Drowned Submariner</em> can wear millions of shapes and forms. I can only hope for this song to be played again during this tour (preferably, 21 more times) and see where it gets.</p> <p>The tiredness I was feeling all day to that point, simply vanished.</p> <p>The rest of the concert went well, followed by a rush to the stage which I preferred to avoid altogether. A much awaited quick toilet break, and back to the hall to watch the encore from the side, near the entrance.</p> <hr /> <p>Once the concert ended, it was time to head back to Bielefeld. The next train to Bielefeld (which also happened to be the last train heading that direction for the day) was scheduled to arrive to Halle in more than an hour. Initially, when planning to stay in Bielefeld instead of Halle, the one hour wait seemed reasonable; however, when it was time to face the music, it was decided to just forego a few dozens of Euros and hail a taxi instead. €35 and 25 minutes later, we were back at the entertainment complex adjacent to the hotel.</p> <p>I’ve been trying to reduce my food intake recently, with some success. Still, as dinner in Bielefeld took place very early (around 5:00pm), by the time the concert was over I already developed some sort of hunger. There were a few restaurants in the entertainment complex. Walking through them and inspecting the menus, came across an Italian one.</p> <p>Needed to check whether the kitchen was open at all. Jeroen headed inside.</p> <p>– “Is the kitchen still open?”</p> <p>– “Yes.”</p> <p>– “Good. So, can we eat here?”</p> <p>– “No. The kitchen is closed.”</p> <p>Sigh. I’m wondering if there’s something in Bielefeld’s air, or water, that makes people’s listening comprehension go a bit off.</p> <p>Found a nearby Asian restaurant. One roll of sushi was ordered, two were provided. Yum. Back to the hotel and off to bed.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Dresden.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-50425668635082305552013-07-05T05:42:00.001-07:002013-09-10T08:13:23.225-07:00Dijon, France to Köln, Germany (July 1–2, 2013)<div class="indented"> <p><em>Note: this post is being uploaded along with its successor. Had to accumulate a couple of posts due to Wi‐Fi availability issues. Make sure you check out the next post: <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/koln-to-halle-westfalen-germany-july-3.html">Köln to Halle (Westfalen), Germany (July 3, 2013)</a>.</em></p> </div> <p>Monday morning, July 1<sup>st</sup>: Woke up at around 8:00am in Dijon, with mixed feelings.</p> <p>(No, it’s not that I had mixed feelings about waking up: I love waking up. As far as I’m concerned, it’s better to wake up eventually than… well… not waking up.)</p> <p>On one hand, I didn’t really want to leave France (even though I’ll be back to France for a few days, as the tour arrives at Nîmes, St. Julien en Genevois and Carcassonne); on the other hand, the difficult travel and the difficulties in proper dining (due to the French’s standard dining hours) made me feel good about heading back to Germany.</p> <p>So far, Germany proved to be the most convenient country to follow a tour in, logistics‐wise. An advanced, developed railway network; relatively organized mentality; and, of course, restaurants in Germany <em>ARE USUALLY OPEN</em>.</p> <p>As Monday was a day off, it made sense to use it for the purpose of travel, in order to avoid travel as much as possible on a concert day. Packed whatever was unpacked and headed to Dijon’s town center for a short pre‐travel breakfast.</p> <p>Now, you would think that, after travelling for so long, experiencing so many quirks and oddities in different countries, there would be less and less to learn as time goes by. Well, that’s what I had thought and hoped for. Whatever doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger; I have been bruised and battered by the oddities of so many places, nothing can surprise me now.</p> <p>Headed to a random cafe in Dijon’s town center. No menu on display, so we decided to ask what they offer. The owner, in return, asked us what we would like to have.</p> <p>Alright, no problem. “Well, you know… sandwiches, tea, coffee…”</p> <p>Sure, that’s fine, folks. Sit down.</p> <p>We did.</p> <p>Beautiful morning. Sitting outside, observing the people of this small town going about their day. The owner (now functioning as a waiter) approaches, asking us what we would like to have.</p> <p>– “Can we see the menu?”</p> <p>– “We don’t have a menu. Just tell me what you’d like to have.”</p> <p>Jeroen looked at me, I looked back at Jeroen, already knowing that nothing good was going to come out of this.</p> <p>– “Two sandwiches, one tea and one cappuccino.”</p> <p>Now, a reasonable diner would expect the waiter to enlist what types of sandwiches are offered, and then ask what sandwich the customer would like. Maybe it’s only me, but that was quite the automatic expectation. The word “sandwich” simply happens to cover too large of a spectrum of options.</p> <p>– “OK, no problem.”</p> <p>So, one possible course of action would be for me to chase the waiter back to where he came from and require some explanation as to what it is that he had in mind when he said “OK, no problem” as a response to the (arguably) generic wish for a “sandwich”.</p> <p>Another possible course of action was to simply remain frozen and see how things unfold, which is exactly what we ended up doing.</p> <p>Five minutes later, the waiter comes with a cappuccino, some tea, and two sandwiches, each of which consists of a dry baguette with a hefty portion of ham inside.</p> <p>Terrible coffee, terrible breakfast I didn’t even ask for. Should I jot this down as a note to myself that a “sandwich”, unless begged for otherwise, means “a dry piece of dough filled with ham”? Is this normal in France? who knows. Moral of the story: “we don’t have a menu, just tell me what you’d like to have” is not the beginning of a love story between a man and his sandwich.</p> <p>OK, whatever. Consumed the sandwich with a negligible amount of passion, paid and backtracked to a small pastry shop we had noticed earlier. Delicious few pastries did much to mend the culinary damage inflicted by the unwelcome breakfast.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioLJdRcrhfVW2h7gi2oxOZWEPKFTJiLL_KkSc2yBegbKNqePsWLp4bXojawae3VA8LvSukFr2fwC6Rpdw4NMD5uYUu3qOGCw3cQS2I_ThDMZRL5t9clAJ8qhQQS76ugfqRQgGoumTsIFvj/s1600-h/IMG_20130701_092430.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130701_092430" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130701_092430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7eeZnXiSuMULssWazkjqfDM4xxi_9j2aMEXHWWEYGKKLUcJksjLVhlbJw8AB8QI1ufnJ1M7C_JQr8h8o8tWRtXLVP8h-JWSA1iGdHLVwASsQIwgn9f3ScWP76wof-Y8Q3gBOeIxB_zAa/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Time to leave. Headed to the station—some fifteen minutes walk away—and hopped on the train.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwu9SH5btQ8pXrAazIHAIGXIinl0UO7dsf0ZkR8WwSR7oflWSfYQOkg1hdJqdHt8rzL3JmgofW0kkQEq4-QfqXR76lEU-WWEUxrqQ-PvdiytJRuDnv4pDAfQYdT_ol5H77oRtZx5XaxCVb/s1600-h/PANO_20130701_094426%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130701_094426" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130701_094426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfDGA-JgeMFSSqGCTKOSKNRf72MoD-c1lpZRmRiMmBCjYb-y5HGXw8Ouk13QP4NKEFtSrtpXpa0i1UIt0IlmjUFq2J-NSY-O2_cTzrsWbh-fPdhPR66sQ7B6ZtBiErScvMFTrUUWeF61a5/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="215" /></a></p> <p>The schedule: Take the TGV from Dijon, France to Basel, Switzerland; about 45 minutes wait, then hop on an ICE train to Mannheim, Germany; about 15 minutes wait, then hop on another ICE train to Köln. Altogether just over 6 hours of travel, spanning three trains.</p> <p>Easy.</p> <p>TGV train from Dijon left on time and arrived at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basel_SBB_railway_station">Basel SBB</a> on time. Left the train and looked for a way to kill 45 minutes as functionally as possible, that is—seek a proper place for a quick lunch before travel continues. Instead of buying something to eat later, it was decided to sit down in a small cafe named “Hallo”, located right inside the train station. Approximately 30 minutes left for the next train to depart, and the cafe was located right above the platform so we could even see the train arriving when the time comes.</p> <p>No brainer, huh?</p> <p>OK, so after decrypting the menu (which was written in Swiss German, which is effectively German, so Jeroen decrypted it for me), the request was simple: two sandwiches, plus water. Not hard.</p> <p>How long could it take to prepare two sandwiches in a cafe that isn’t even close to being full? two minutes?</p> <p>Three minutes?</p> <p>… Four?</p> <p>Alright. So about ten minutes later, I noticed that our sandwiches were already prepared, placed on a shelf and waiting for pickup by the waitress, who, by then, both of us already concluded that was entirely, completely and utterly clueless. The sandwiches just stood there on the shelf, ready for pick up. For how long? One minute?</p> <p>Two minutes?</p> <p>Alright. So about five minutes later, it was time for action. Jeroen sprang on his feet and headed to grab the sandwiches from the lonely shelf himself. The clueless waitress gave him a look that clearly demanded some sort of an explanation, and such explanation was duly provided: “<em>WE ARE IN A HURRY</em>”.</p> <p>Disgusting sandwiches, by the way.</p> <p>About 12 minutes or so left to the train’s departure. Looking down to the platform, I noticed our train coming.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Trains arriving early simply wait at the station for longer than planned; they don’t just go away. So we knew that the train wasn’t going to leave before schedule. But still, there’s something disconcerting in looking at your train standing on the tracks as if waiting for you.</p> <p>I don’t want trains to wait for me, ever; I prefer waiting for them.</p> </div> <p>Time to pay.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>This is the part I dislike the most about dining out. Not because I don’t want to pay, but because of the actual process: get the staff’s attention; ask for the bill; wait for the staff to come back with the bill; provide means of payment; have the payment processed (which usually takes longer when you pay with a card). It simply takes time, for no useful reason at all.</p> <p>If you ever happen to be so misfortunate to be my waiter/waitress, how about you do the following: once food is provided to the table, ask me if there’s any chance that I’m going to be ordering something later. If I say “no”, just give me the bill. Wait a few seconds, I’ll provide the payment and you can go about processing it while I chew on what I paid for. I’ll be happy because my time was saved; you’ll be happy because you (1) made me happy, and (2) managed to reduce further interaction with me, which is good for your mental well being.</p> <p>The best service I can ever be given is a service that saves me the one resource I can never have back in any way: my time.</p> </div> <p>The indented rant above doesn’t appear here just out of the blue. I think we caught the attention of two different waitresses, about three or four times each. “We need the bill because our train is leaving”. Now, you would assume that people, working in restaurants located inside a terribly busy railway station, would not be strangers to the idea of clients being in a hurry. After about six minutes with nobody even handing us the bill (all waitresses were under the impression that it’s much more important to seat new clients, and take orders from said new clients, before releasing two prisoners who happen to follow a Knopfler tour), I simply got up, grabbed my bags and was ready to go to one of the cashiers there (the cafe had a “to go” section as well) and give her a piece of my mind. Miraculously, the clueless waitress from before finally realized that some hell was going to be raised; payment was done and we stormed out of that hell hole, down to the platform and into the train.</p> <p>Arrived at Mannheim on time, and went straight to the departures board, only to see that the connecting train to Köln is being delayed by about 20 minutes. One of us decided that the best way to use this gap is by devouring a cheesecake in a bakery right there in the station; the other one was me.</p> <p>Sat down watching a Dutchman arranging a meeting between a cheesecake and its maker, resisting the temptation to steal half of it. Then off to the platform, hopped on the train… and about an hour and a half later, finally arrived to Köln’s central railway station.</p> <hr /> <p><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cologne">Köln</a> (in English: Cologne) is the fourth largest city in Germany. Its metro area is home for about ten million people, and it is situated on both banks of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhine">Rhine</a>.</p> <p>The city has a rich history dating back to the 1<sup>st</sup> century, when it was founded by the Romans. During the Middle Ages, Köln was a major trade route connecting eastern and western Europe. During World War II, Köln was one of the most heavily bombed cities in Germany: 95% of its population abandoned it, and the city was almost completely destroyed. After the war, much effort and resources were put into trying to restore some of the city’s many cultural and architectural landmarks.</p> <p>I have been to Köln before, during the <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/06/concert-day-lanxess-arena-koln-germany.html">2010 Get Lucky tour</a>. Other than that, I have been to the city’s central railway station a few times as it serves as a major railway hub in Germany’s west. I never, though, had the opportunity to actually explore this city. In that regards, a day off in Köln was definitely called for.</p> <p>Out of the station and into the hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187371-d199487-Reviews-BEST_WESTERN_Grand_City_Hotel_Koln-Cologne_North_Rhine_Westphalia.html">Best Western Grand City Hotel Köln</a>, conveniently located right across the street from the central railway station. Originally, the plan was to stay in a different hotel, but once Germany was hit with a ruthless heat wave, the reservation was changed to a hotel that provides air conditioning, of course for an added price.</p> <p>(We will get to that air conditioning part later.)</p> <p>Up to the room and I was extraordinarily happy: spacious, comfortable… excellent for two nights’ stay. Nice view, too.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6FUcvYFQxW19DF8yKqq-ky7KXDRDWwKe1RktbyJSAz3zuZS1jIY7TeFl-KLK31vk2z6PSlngFXHGgYEvUzT0-5YZ-cIvqxQyOAiZVatN3r2Mxsxga7U3LE_qGoGsgo4dGAaRdyikRzNL5/s1600-h/IMG_20130701_181245%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130701_181245" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130701_181245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBdfVauY3PgTCUbdutHBsMtYmtIlULdlMkM_NR74qFvqpiU9v5Eu9e76ZXr7qO940pcOk1dU4EFT4e9Hq7jPxdj80Cm3H4hqs98z3JL2FI-_jUtFW1UdIEs2do50j8F9RzXh3FXecVkgg/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="201" /></a></p> <p>Turned on the air conditioning and sat down to finish the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/07/caen-to-rennes-to-clermont-ferrand-to.html">previous post</a>. That took a while, during which I noticed that the room isn’t really getting colder. Checked the air conditioner: fan is on, thermostat set correctly… nothing but plain unconditioned air comes out. Decided to open the window, which helped reducing the temperature but resulted in extreme noise coming in. As the room was facing the central railway station, I could clearly hear all train announcements (in both German and English); the despicable screeching sound of all trains, halting to a stop; and, of course, the loud noise emitted by drunken creatures who gathered in front of the station with alcohol supply equivalent in its volume to satisfy the needs of a small country.</p> <p>Shoes on, and down to reception.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I don’t like arguing for the sake of argument. I’m OK with arguing in order to reach some sort of a common understanding, common grounds; to achieve something, most preferably something that is mutually beneficial.</p> <p>What I’m not OK with is arguing with stupidity.</p> <p>My problem of arguing with stupidity is that I have no common grounds with stupid people (or, as will be demonstrated below, nice people who are forced to argue in favour of stupid policies). My desire to reach common understandings and mutual gain is far superseded by my reluctance to bring my intelligence down to that of idiots.</p> </div> <p>Once reported the problem, a more senior staff came in. Nice lady, with nothing but goodness in her eyes. She said that cooling was turned off for the entire hotel because guests were complaining that it’s “too cold”.</p> <p>That didn’t sit well with the fact that the air conditioning system in the rooms had an on/off switch as well as a thermostat, both of which in perfect working order.</p> <p>– “So you’re telling me that the thermostat and the on/off switch really do nothing?”, I inquired.</p> <p>She nodded for “yes”. She was either lying or just demonstrating complete ignorance.</p> <p>– “So you’re turning off the air conditioning for the entire hotel, because guests claimed that it’s too cold?”, I inquired, just to confirm.</p> <p>– “Yes.”</p> <p>– “And I’m guessing that, if I told you that I was too warm, you wouldn’t turn the air conditioning on. Right?”, I said, trying to sound as sarcastic as I could.</p> <p>– “No.”</p> <p>– “And that is because I’m just one person.”</p> <p>She looked at me and tilted her head to the side, as if she’s trying to show compassion towards a miniature three legged dog with an apparent bowel movement problem.</p> <p>– “Yes.”</p> <p>Well, at the least, I learned something new.</p> <p>– “OK, so what are we going to do about that?”</p> <p>– “We can try to move you to a different, quieter room tomorrow.”</p> <p>Sure, whatever.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>The fact that a hotel room has an on/off switch for its air conditioning system, as well as a thermostat, goes to imply that guests have independent control over their room’s temperature. The only conclusion out of that argument was that the hotel was disabling the cooling system in an attempt to save energy (which means, save money. For them, that is. Guests still pay the same).</p> </div> <p>Back in the room, it was decided to give things a chance for the night and see how things go.</p> <hr /> <p>So, as I mentioned above, I never really got the chance to see this city, despite being here a couple of times before. Evening time, wonderful weather outside… off for a walk.</p> <p>Perhaps the most famous attraction in Köln is the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cologne_Cathedral">Köln Cathedral</a>. A UNESCO World Heritage Site, this cathedral is Germany’s most visited landmark, attracting about 20,000 people a day.</p> <p>The building of this cathedral started in the 13<sup>th</sup> century. In the 15<sup>th</sup> century, it was abandoned and left unfinished. Work restarted in the 19<sup>th</sup> century, and was completed in 1880.</p> <p>You can’t stay apathetic to the sight of this astonishing building. It is about 155 meters tall (!), gorgeous and, well, massive.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh1xc4ncpwBa4Ya6oAgBlupgwNjP-RXTbfraCLlAYHxyefAevWf4UJ-2_8-olT4HapRk6R75XdzpADULhrE8E_WbIgtLKnFW0Ka54v47pI1pgruSUj1VdVmkKTejuHpAgsEJQqiaEXjXtr/s1600-h/IMG_14941%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_14941" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_14941" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG5HvJ-tTZqdclMCJOvf7oMajX7AUcQ8hNmBIsX6jgrN3tm-EK6v383hiRBzo8zz5MTttBaHJ5pd21QJTWlppGCASR24zihRl2rfYVF8HZVwUtOQwhg7j_wiSUJ4_Mu-EENTVAlWW6CRDI/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>The Köln Cathedral is right in your face as you exit the central railway station to the south. Once there, the old city (<em>Altstadt</em>) is all around you. Due to the fact that the city was almost completely destroyed during World War II, you would often encounter mixtures of old and new buildings as you walk along.</p> <p>First—dinner. A place called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187371-d2631833-Reviews-Oma_s_Kuche-Cologne_North_Rhine_Westphalia.html">Oma’s Küche</a> was suggested by <em>TripAdvisor</em> for good, traditional German food right in the heart of the old city.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNykadt4s9gr8YBSTyBr4nbyr93E8yP_bnRiU4At32SdhtmhMgouxGT3nqsUJGEckNFp6BK4nleHK53HYCUMJ6pyVE_QmvMlJJmqERwn_OV-qgPqO0oFc6qK5tLyKgPa7oEiKZC08SmFsl/s1600-h/IMG_14971%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_14971" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_14971" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbyv2j1uKKfNWwHlm1G9nCsOXmNyBsQ85oC4-5pA9mE6RiCAG186Iww5Ox-BxQBi70h3dbWPIJcWPVmhylikTvunNbvYq1_dvPLtHxWSS-YsGPAX9NIfZ0KoOqv76oRu5spX3Gm8D0ZbLX/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Steps from it, a building carrying two symbols of Corporate America, Food Division:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDyK88RgBwvb_0l6fplavgOz0blYAVHz3sm22_BhHg8zqw209XsGIIq1UoZbmaxqVOvub93z2Ak1RFpcgnmWwsOELka-IGSLx4r_Hit5GoxIAm_PBp_jodq5__UfDB06ACogGKg_AA0-TS/s1600-h/IMG_20130701_191657.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130701_191657" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130701_191657" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp8o7FKHitoBJzrZ2h0QsdLqtsgcSiIFwctXJDeQLyP9IzQeMomvxli1CdibvfIH5wFIOYo53BiQ9uyxdbKRcPNQ-OHWpySKih1EeseIOyGmHSZ1VTvyoqeIQJh0P6b9FZS4IURE1Tj6zB/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq3Rh_RxfME5QsoD-fUpU8ZiPIXHqp8IwF_IcXxVutG9wJh18px-EsJ9Egfk3_2ZzZtVMUFurDaIwWAhEte5Kp-uDbFSc0mbUZ3wxKroSwpNhFWtXXxUKrcvvcN8jEtjNzrRW907teit5a/s1600-h/IMG_20130701_191841.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130701_191841" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130701_191841" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6mtL03xki5qjMyhMIcAWak6hnWXwWtyXdhzgQYOiwiK7SEEr3-ZyBNXMUgBPIwJ5MkIWtFQOux0ZL3XRdj94WHH-sPt1MBrF7jMi0cO12isgdQ3A_1Nq_gd7vdZy9bok5MEEq_tDR9i-x/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Long walk south, then west towards River Rhine, and north along the river. The scenery—both involving the river and the nearby houses—is very pretty.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ4OumLcEjjw6pq7BB9kPvAwJgbRY4d3cZ6IffsWD_BbcVRkZaPr3tA0Zsl2PpAhwtB1a6T1vldx59hfqbEjdBWXWRxcpacLLayudS5IocnFwNuPYMFE_-VnhZuW4uUsezhFza6pHXS0ns/s1600-h/PANO_20130701_194256%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130701_194256" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130701_194256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB8IGZ_jUeZqpTjM7KR5J_2S_J1pCS4ovWbvBZCt45bA6TzbV_iwnvZ26Ww5o3A0h2WQWpvrRTvSO6hPSEWErp7_RYxPH2frqm_O-Ge6go2ZLMcgC96vYs8arnFuxlcT5iV-BiGEzlDuy8/?imgmax=800" width="220" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCSahro_1u8F882heK-hJEeYpQO8vc1bnA1AYevVFGzDHaB8nH9XsH3MUJHVOyYbkuxLvLFgTN9BdbFANc_vqTaZPPm1W4uAjtGPh78DLfDP4UzF0UmJfM80LbPNtLdj1ysq-kSTVoINI/s1600-h/IMG_20130701_194501.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130701_194501" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130701_194501" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuSUwSfXrfRCOK8D_7z3aGeZhhoOW35maDOjNLsxQHsnEBfrM9N4Rdtkq1dlRS06OZetxnMCPzskDdpADUFZnoEAguxirltj19hgYluvhpdyfWXVOW2XI9CqV1yH7-yjX_ZayRCtFAJdMf/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Some of these colourful houses now serve as hotels. Numerous traditional German‐style pubs are scattered along the walkway, attracting tourists and locals alike.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydeHClWZvmvQ8SBmpzzhOusWZGUP2GEr6QjmKt3_McixfJHaS8rYx6WN3DNzPgM0Vruqv2cuQDd6p7b-XTaz4DyepUsVSJ9GIqus9RgwzTr3cR5pUGFKOsRPpdtij9UdWlN6mTnrz4oin/s1600-h/IMG_20130701_194824.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130701_194824" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130701_194824" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtBz5RVtb4tRfa_Z5o6y9j4dHGIb505Dchv1PKh4cNHxre_LX3MYk6ORWKxz6lXgB0NWvXZfCSp_OcSbXaB2oK-J039ChYwGZltzErIRHsvCAXCU77YwDjIArToYEDLTi79X31jg_8IDf5/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoacxrM7Onm8mt8dHTyMcz6Mz0sF0exDtg-Y8xlhImguV1no_TN70qfTGu2kQnddIPkdZwDLTOWN94oSmy2HYEQGJ4f6wqnbjzPSzqk1Aa5SKPnHTUhXMYON0eJRSDlz6dHE6O6eqwMgU/s1600-h/IMG_20130701_195229.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130701_195229" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130701_195229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gKKqLg-H56szU3tbognRePs0qlznXV95wPLpJuSJ-Y0cV2toOOTfjpic78-lJ-H0SJSO0sEVMZzUBmsZQlPBOAjfIfsFe5sOmouBRQFTHF3JDw-mk6-r1wNUhsiQ1DlHW0EFYXZ1cBE_/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPma29x_apyHyVcX9VxwlYqD-lO49_Jbauflvxo4IkFTPd7gzkyEOhkzPbbvc7u32Fm7Dzy6WJBMizUvyWV9Wo9UWZC0thwz_NNMKG6OppydP16uitU4FShMVOaf5RLWYQTi2priU0yN48/s1600-h/PANO_20130701_195029%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130701_195029" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130701_195029" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8h01BtVXWu3fPPrenF80F3SF_hWOPhzaDCi_9X3UUGF-Bl8VUIR5ocIN0f-DIdihyphenhyphenaJ40by3uCMGNNBXxZPPsgkQUtkHPjFDTO6UrVyB3UfkA8oOTjNysVmeG4Zz-K8Lq0jSUzCUI1ok/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="269" /></a></p> <p>Refreshing walk, and back to the hotel, where I did some more writing. Time flew by, and before I knew it, it was dark. The Köln Cathedral is lit brilliantly at night, which provided for a superb view from the hotel room’s balcony.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZ1isu_BUrZi1AMAmoBtn3P56Bq43i1_QapBUxwrvsM1BnyCrJfKqqiycs4ymdj_xT_wxI0FmUtSDnMJL-0Wv-fZ6ZjF25LwX5oWOEjxObYfF7c2yRFTM6keBcC5Ajd3tNxKWpkV6ywXs/s1600-h/IMG_15071%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1507" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1507" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMgC7Zxc5c1leps1ECc9A3NNf5sQx5X0IWCcc92DPnKT0DpnfZY3HOxlmV1jRB2pd5Qy6DQ5OsdjKu0d4nidtGDnOnw7Dr0laNHwgzz9CFCsVx3HlF2fBiyDiet_DYrARlZrd4nk0vKd8f/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="367" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>After a relaxing day off, another beautiful morning. The hotel was asking an insane amount of €19 per person (!) for breakfast (if you’re clueless about Germany, you’re likely to fall into such traps. Dining out in Germany is not cheap, but not expensive either. €19 is a ridiculous amount of money to spend on a breakfast there), so we headed out.</p> <p>On our way out, we decided to speak to the receptionist again about the air conditioning problem. Asking for explanation, we were told that “the hotel’s director decided to turn off the air cooling system”.</p> <p>– “But why?”, we inquired.</p> <p>– (with utmost seriousness) “Because he doesn’t think it’s warm enough.”</p> <p>Well then. How could one possibly argue against such a profound, objective observation?</p> <p>Before I was able to fully compile this last sentence in my head (admit it: you didn’t see it coming), another receptionist came by and informed us that it was decided to enable air cooling for the entire hotel.</p> <p>Wonderful.</p> <p>Headed out to the city center, looking for something to eat. Located in a side street off the city center’s main shopping walkway, there’s <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187371-d2711655-Reviews-Cafe_Eigel-Cologne_North_Rhine_Westphalia.html">Cafe Eigel</a>, offering brilliant breakfasts for the staggering price of about €7. For my money, breakfast doesn’t get much better than that.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_FaM40KxY1p2UXrdIu5lGQuHmFZS_yc2NIvm70qzgFuuXYBbB-effw7KhNxWWtdZuCXBYBpNQxvgMaPsmUNlIZm9BydvEBMmJ-3nc3txSIp9hV5l9UFtUBTY0r4vPDu6rbdFOVhU0IjHw/s1600-h/IMG_20130702_110736.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130702_110736" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130702_110736" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj4LAPAXfiHGSNMaMa-BkDcLY_u9xmTsKCG-FKNIZwaXQgHIUID_4piPFCdoVxbP4gYtZEYx8_aOgJZ8TcIg1XBSKDoLLRxY9vS5cVSjwmsr6T-yA-DYlfllOY4IxLXpimwMNOlnWenpeP/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Due to the fact that we had cancelled a couple of sleeper train reservations, it became unclear how we should be getting a refund for those. Decided to get it over with now, during the day off. So, breakfast done and over with, we went back to the central railway station to sort things out.</p> <p>Pushed button; got a number. Waited. The guy just before us ended up going to booth number 5, where he was met by a staff member who looked like, and sounded like, someone who is in the habit of barking things at people. Something about the tone of his voice, combined with his body language, made me predict that discussing heavenly matters with this fellow is going to yield an interesting experience.</p> <p>After a short argument, involving hearing the word “No!” (exclamation mark included) way too many times, the guy realized that perhaps the issue needs to be escalated. Some senior staff was called in and the matter got (for now, until further notice) resolved. A part of the resolution required the Dutchman to provide his email address, which he spelled out… until the “@gmail.com” part arrived.</p> <p>– “What?”, asked the representative.</p> <p>– “@gmail.com”, responded the Dutchman.</p> <p>The representative looked a bit confused; took out a piece of paper and a pen, and ask Jeroen to spell it, which he did. Receiving the paper, the representative mentioned that he had never encountered this domain name before.</p> <p>THERE’S SOMEONE ON THIS PLANET WHO KNOWS WHAT AN E‐MAIL IS, BUT HAD NEVER ENCOUNTERED THE “gmail.com” DOMAIN BEFORE.</p> <p>Excellent.</p> <p>Spent the next few hours by myself—it’s good to do so, every once in a while—walking around this beautiful city.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1H4pvwoTypmhbKj0s2BlhIMAJGEqQHkLQdzOES8q_2JqCAsVEoziLoeUCDt4qsUd_pX_Yafi3OaJkOxq8NNCAVhvSaUGEwxelXbiIZ3wybK2oyDQblaY8MFoMoSszf1d5qCAdnYYgQvWu/s1600-h/IMG_20130702_125824.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130702_125824" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130702_125824" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzI6AEC6uj5xtAfg5zLmITpC_kFb0culEIDJQoTnAyCgu6980BRKzqr4kIHBDQYjo1bXuxfaotgBys7R02Z7_DxKTXxaAd0Mbd5h7C8tvOUEC0IBNdkJTw7FTMDFZz2RxUvUlIV7QnlPDW/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a 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src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJaN5hAUD-U38HBWLw-yZObzONFwrXRuO-wdBVBWXA0kn3VNI2YY91jAaqGmomJQgtgCT2WFZReerUxCiSmET4Ch8yznbOtSbu561Vknt9YGZv9DJv44-bem6vJnTDDhXY_K0a_kw0QCw/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Late afternoon: time for a pre‐concert dinner. A bit north of the hotel—away from the rush of the touristic city center, there’s a place called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187371-d1866174-Reviews-Max_Stark-Cologne_North_Rhine_Westphalia.html">Max Stark</a>. Upon entering, a nice waiter welcomes us offering us a seat, and immediately asking if we would like a couple of pints of their “local beer”.</p> <p>– “No, thank you.”</p> <p>The waiter looked at us in amazement.</p> <p>– “No?”</p> <p>– “No, thank you.”</p> <p>– “Really?”</p> <p>– “Yes”, and I couldn’t avoid smiling. The waiter obviously looked shocked.</p> <p>– “No beer?”</p> <p>– “No…”</p> <p>– “You know where you are, right?”</p> <p>The expression on the waiter’s face once he realized that no beer is going to be ordered here was priceless. Food‐wise, this is a great place to dine in. Good food, very reasonably priced. Check it out if and when you happen to be in the city.</p> <p>Back to the touristic area of the city center for some (non‐alcoholic) drink, an experience that provided yet another hilarious dialogue. The waiter, an Italian who speaks fluent German but very flakey English, didn’t quite understand what I meant when I asked for an ice‐based espresso drink. He just couldn’t perceive how espresso, steamed milk and ice cubes could fit into a drinkable beverage. To his credit, he really <em>did</em> try to understand. While doing so, he apologized for his English and told me his life story in a nutshell—having worked in the USA before etc. etc., and that he would have liked to be in his home country but (quote) “Italy—kaput”.</p> <p>Nice to meet interesting people along the way.</p> <hr /> <p>Time was up—off to the train station to head to the venue. From the central railway station, there are trains headed to the venue every 2–3 minutes (!), and the venue is located about 2 minutes train ride away. In other words, there should be no worries getting to the venue on time, right?</p> <p>Think again.</p> <p>Turned out that the city’s S‐Bahn lines were suffering terrible delays due to shortage in personnel. Virtually all S‐Bahn trains headed towards the venue were suffering delays of 10 minutes or more, which is terrible news to get 35 minutes before show time. It was one of the most stressful experiences in getting to a venue, which is ridiculous considering the fact that the venue is located right on the other side of River Rhine.</p> <p>Eventually, though, found a regular (non S‐Bahn) train heading that way. Arrived at the venue 20 minutes to show time, collected the tickets, had to circle around the venue to find the applicable entry…</p> <p>Done. Made it on time.</p> <p>As Jeroen was headed to the hall, I stayed behind to get us a couple of drinks. I didn’t even look at the sign showing the prices of everything. I had a vague idea of what to expect.</p> <p>– “Two waters, please.”</p> <p>– “OK.”</p> <p>Man pours water into two cups, about 250mL each.</p> <p>– “Ten Euros and sixty cents.”</p> <p>I looked at him.</p> <p>– “Excuse me?”</p> <p>– “That would be ten Euros and sixty cents.”</p> <p>– “Ten sixty?!”</p> <p>– “Yes.”</p> <p>– “For two cups of water?!”</p> <p>– “Yes.”</p> <p>I looked at him, astonished. I know he wasn’t to blame—he’s a poor guy just working there.</p> <p>– “Are you sure? Ten sixty for two cups of water?”</p> <p>Another staff member showed up.</p> <p>– “You get one Euro back if you return the cup after you finish using it.”</p> <p>I did some really, really quick math in my head.</p> <p>– “So, nine Euros and sixty cents for two cups of water?”</p> <p>– “Yes.”</p> <p>I looked at them.</p> <p>– “No thanks, that’s fine.”</p> <p>The two looked at me as if awestruck as I simply walked away.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>In a totally unrelated subject, the water from the tap in the men’s room were just fine.</p> </div> <p>Made it to the hall a few minutes before the concert. The concert went well, again with a very receptive audience. If you happen to have purchased the USB stick for this concert, pay attention to the Marbletown outro, as Mike & John took things to a completely different direction than usual—a minor‐scale, touching melody that turned the song into a different, unique experience.</p> <p>These guys just keep coming up with ideas… and still people often ask me “why would you see the same show so many times?”.</p> <p>On a side note, this was the first concert in which I bothered to look into something that looked a bit odd. <em>Gator Blood</em> is played on a white Fender Stratocaster, with a capo on the third fret, plus, of course, a guitar slide. For the guitar slide to work well on this song, a normal tuning simply wouldn’t be the right approach. Plus, the finger work for the song’s main rhythm theme didn’t make sense.</p> <p>Then it dawned on me: the guitar is tuned for “Open G”.</p> <p>Glad to have figured that one out.</p> <p>After the concert, took the train back to the hotel. No train delays this time around.</p> <p>These were good two days in this beautiful city. Looking forward to visiting again.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Dresden. Took a while to complete this post, but the main problem was Wi‐Fi availability as well as tiredness. The next post is already 95% done, and will be uploaded later tonight.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-20943497227399289122013-07-04T08:50:00.001-07:002013-08-12T00:03:07.344-07:00Heartbeat Check<p>Just a quick one for now.</p> <p>It’s been very busy few days since getting to Germany. As I have been rather tired recently, I didn’t finish the Köln post until fifteen minutes ago, and now I can’t upload it because the Holiday Inn Express’ Wi‐Fi connection is just too slow, making my blogging software time out whenever I try to upload it.</p> <p>Stay tuned… It will come.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-2269643047991918982013-07-01T16:14:00.001-07:002013-09-10T08:06:08.524-07:00Caen to Rennes to Clermont‐Ferrand to Dijon, France (June 28–30, 2013)<div class="indented"> <p>The last few days in France were characterized by moderate to severe tiredness, difficult travel, difficulties eating… too many difficulties that made it rather unfeasible to sit down and write anything.</p> <p>In fact, I hardly even used my laptop at all since I left Caen on Friday morning.</p> </div> <p>From Caen, the shortest train ride to Rennes requires you to change in Le Mans. Early 9:02am train to Le Mans, about an hour and a half spent trying to catch up with some sleep and failing. About half an hour stop there, then a TGV train to Rennes arriving 12:30pm.</p> <p>My experience shows that, when planning to follow a tour, relying solely on public transport, your best bet is to always book your accommodations as close as possible to the port of travel from which you’re heading out the next day (a central railway station, an airport etc.), and worry about getting to and from the concert venue later. So, the good thing about the Rennes experience was that all key locations—the central railway station, the hotel for the night and the concert venue—were all located within a few minutes walk from one another.</p> <p>Having learned the lesson from the miserable experience in Caen revolving around looking for food, the intention in Rennes was to go out for lunch as soon as possible. Arriving at the hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187103-d229792-Reviews-Hotel_le_Sevigne-Rennes_Ille_et_Vilaine_Brittany.html">Hotel le Sevigne</a>, the room wasn’t ready yet so luggage was stored there and the search for food began. It didn’t take long. Less than one minute walk from the hotel, there’s a French restaurant that received excellent reviews online: <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187103-d1322161-Reviews-Le_Galopin-Rennes_Ille_et_Vilaine_Brittany.html">Le Galopin</a>. It was my first French dining experience in France, and it was nothing short of amazing. Three course lunch menu for under €20.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>One thing I like about French restaurants—and I am referring not necessarily to restaurants serving French cuisine, but restaurants that are “behaviourally” French—is the dining experience. It’s not only about the delicious food that often makes you wonder “how on earth did they come up with <em>that</em>?”; it’s about the experience involved in actually spending time in that restaurant. From the moment you’re led to your table until the moment you leave, you get the sense that you’re not only there to eat, but also to enjoy yourself.</p> </div> <p>Happy that I got dining and nutrition sorted out for the day, I headed back to the hotel and worked on finishing the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/06/paris-to-caen-france-june-27-2013.html">previous post</a>. That took a while. Then, instead of heading out to the beautiful day and explore the city, my brain signalled that it needs a rest; my body complied by crawling under the blanket and falling asleep within approximately 4 seconds.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>It is indeed disappointing that, often, I need to give up some time in the sun exploring new places. However, that’s a risk I was already aware of when I decided to write this blog. It does take an awful lot of time—time which could otherwise be spent sleeping (at night) or exploring (at day). But if it wasn’t for the writing, I wouldn’t have followed this tour to begin with.</p> <p>So please, if we happen to run into each other, please don’t bring this point of “but you don’t get to see anything” up. I am well aware of it.</p> </div> <p>Woke up at around 6:00pm feeling fresh. My friend Laurent and his wife Carole were in town for the concert: the concert in Rennes being a general admission one, Laurent has decided to arrive at the venue early in order to catch a good spot. Carole decided to pass, so we opted at taking a walk around the city center and grab a bite together before the show.</p> <p>The city of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rennes">Rennes</a> (pronounced “Renn”) is located in France’s northwest, and is the capital of the French region of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brittany">Brittany</a>. A little more than 200,000 people live here. Comparing to Caen, which I had visited just a day before, Rennes had much more to offer in terms of scenery.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kliMZ13sm4r06BmrLcCgATfNRUJbK59yuUutXTzQ8cJSRLafZL4RQ4KvMnP9FbsztUF3wj6nY1K3z2dgZSiGReetEt3k2IBTltWFdqVBh-earEgmCfH7YxQ1z_jhLQuMqH_RWHnWiXZF/s1600-h/IMG_20130628_182949.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130628_182949" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130628_182949" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVFmH93tstqbrApJWHhhaAC7OPVDKx6J6VnLl9eDJ3yQC1Qv9slfweqc8bATzYEf44FzDGJPn-g25qLMvrwRyxSBBWidN_MG-4lq3rmd5xlbXAmECYh3y5ztkJYfe6_pNktbkM5jLGSPNQ/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkDMpM0-h1Zcda7EppVe7oDK_xQ5bfAA-KLj7Ks06BB23O_J9frOaFcUoXH4WJpY9CJRukaPlcKotZhaybVhMhSxoRS5ecfRlIuATDrkosQCXC1sNiCPFRhu62Decb23WB_llTlaDgni5M/s1600-h/IMG_20130628_183104.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130628_183104" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130628_183104" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYXtmMyPwe4vI5CxnAMDbYSu9tR0m6IZ915b98e8SfjxfqXx68c3DZNzmArhdb9RyeLBPj3Ch2gE-8Qh3kkl2JZ3yHWGQkQJfuQZYoih8yZTHHBaextoTexV8xYDaqPCDsMsu-Aa1JFnq_/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpqhxqkpTGv1OcCCQ4J69V9WrFipJHg0eNi6p9Da6TnKsHFfsrNay18fxHubaXIBKS6TJFLc2WNnYFF7qj7zjf4L-BtTDiKufGeFjWJeqbFIBP3lGFbxpV8vbm2W7ojTPQDFNtwtXQ5m0o/s1600-h/IMG_20130628_184423.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130628_184423" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130628_184423" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh84nVcyJLK-oNwVtnVT-eVlBr561GdSOZrnUl8vBWQiNW06ok1K2o3ZVwuJRlvA_PzpXyzGiNGZShziO44eqk-U87YjsrMuZ_-InrYwFFKeNzgOH6uVb8Lq1fJDq_cJ0qVtprjrU_u2-Eq/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbafmLamBn0559oY9fNsuJPk9JnsyDHd9STlJZ_wygAEKt5D2QT9Xy1B2Qe29ij6A7-h_JDQXayJYjgLwpYk3r8LLE6EnWpql8ZQmPqc4QKOpjl4touNaOrENAq1hO7hXIdM_JtjAGeTT4/s1600-h/IMG_20130628_184600.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130628_184600" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130628_184600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1ZP3IQdwfbhUno33awbUFyu898_mLiq9TOZIZBFAEzZJ-L4qyP2tck_Ed1OFzRBwJooDbfL7v190xCdP8p9DmBbiATjWhhGmlOHOP2wU7jVjADZTqB0KEygX6AgBf_nLCWAdhQhHn3ND/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Spent less than an hour in the old city area, which was enough for me to determine that this place deserves a spot in my list of places deserving another in‐depth look in the future.</p> <p>Jeroen, who went to see the city earlier by himself, took a few photographs as well:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-H-Ipa14BkpPU6zsT_MDBE4NvMmd8zA96PSSVxcDlsp4K_2_Z35c8ZszUqv4mEVsLZArXyIYaPS1ybt6zGQ6smxo_Mwux3aCAia4CTA6oYF6JCfp15B8NhFoNkwC7bvMoKBQOsAlVhc8r/s1600-h/IMG_13641%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_13641" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_13641" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY8nCUW9UYQIk7rm2IEaRv3nCp7l8TV01vJb_-YxvmE7-B1kA8qlM4Bo8vkRFYBEEw0agSzr7NWdAecebxR8WYZDlCuIE29QKvWLMgZrznP9386uGXDJSrRwSSTa_Umaa_Zy4CuNnk2DRV/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcGCEiJozZZbo92TWkRJhQfiktF49e0Rzl5sqqfm-KIjfpnao_GWWZXC6s1t_CMKfZP8oPQZUq9yB3jFzsxft1FVNl-xk20nrTKC9i3G3p4rWtsKZvJSW29XJ90d3SYjziSCNnFx-1cwa/s1600-h/IMG_13651%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_13651" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_13651" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj1OG_206ux2v09OwhhfwvSK9u23-a9LKd7mky0X2ybbFxEswYJ-rDhVH3-MOdYM0NB-Yvk1lYSzVbGKOudfmFMHbKCZYR_yxiru3hGguE4KIVI1eKn-63d2nT8mtmpufDSXvP_sokk7NT/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVgVEYAvIetZyzo_c_tZh0S4o9YBNNsWTmnaigy9vVlaFoWcKzKjUhD6X2geC8mSKGRf7TE4nXQ4tCAYdLusQfzyNSxxrqMrFItNNl6P7b6qQHueKV6JNN2XEvHRjRuHDi7xlY6RoHlNLY/s1600-h/IMG_13661%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_13661" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_13661" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1mBHJjlQd9soEbyeuqYeW7DMvM3q4ekFcN-YdtWnTjPNqu2SZChSodEWX0r47NhblirocxQ0nKdVVfgQ8Litli8EuhoqFVdf3qvSBk-ZX8uEBM-bAd8TrttqxMBeqftJEry67wsZ2Df9/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8LRpTZNjHfOVZdCo2lBGPGLrDJawYT4sj0fJPX7jXNzo1DgDJsik-HoC7bOcncoxXU1wf7xn5WQWdhR1FdRnZ0iGmYhOR2I1FzXm7WpeBtPqBgthJCGPToQ8U63g5ypRs7atfBkVBhLt/s1600-h/IMG_13671%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1367" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioa4S7_zDn2SDy4kAi0rVYs4gDWOVX5ef97UOTfDoCF5XhrnWybz5Kx4QNHCjlnYQI_ZRgB2ZQYkD0B0R3Vn6BLyl22keOfzgV6-DMCKlgqEoUczXkPAKIhX50VV0Qbio9d0QxUEveEwF1/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghD9oEh1Ug3hmw64fvpJnwUiuisHynTghsEEJvIDlWvJ3Z1mF-f3uFBaWro6otogLvmyfEe089SGQadTIGjMFmzp1iTaUm1rnDDZd6jY_pW7dicZHx73G7OMEluCiH0-aC1Sp1sDyUOSos/s1600-h/IMG_13681%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_13681" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_13681" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9c3Ow3P6B8BPl_Y7AUSlZgO2GXsCiSSo6C-ZZRmEaJx3Lr3_yEFVUl74_tCSyfCV9EsoJHQqZuUBUZtDqt_QxqoYiMtN91jpfFIsrRbGMRmwYn79oLdvfE5hpaJO-HNWDhxWIX27NpyzS/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFcmMuAw2KvtDNSfxhEuReTj2JW2yX-tsmHsRgYHDEIjr8QGZaZpiY7DczhMSApTqVtkl_0et6jKbjfRoE0-Q0zy5j32aaIVUmet8wJnj5Yj-VvW8dPVdtVFhuz9yVGiXcigRLtuYdBi9/s1600-h/IMG_13701%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_13701" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_13701" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ZNUx29tRCTjMuMRXKUeX2_hVPLHzGMv7jFGLsitl_y_qyUdQqgyP9Ny_WRdXqVUzf8FJrRbyzT3o4QNuf0uCuOr_Rk3Ko-mz4fEZqiQSOuOUA-cM0ONKiwXWfDo5j0_SQ4WwNq1FcRW5/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Before heading back to the venue, it was time for a quick bite. Being asked what is it that I wanted to eat, I told Carole that I simply don’t care, and that I grant her full authority (and responsibility) to decide where it is that we’re going to eat, and what it is that I’m going to eat and drink. When in France, let a Frenchwoman decide such minutiae for you, that’s what I say. Delicious crepe with salmon, spinach and other goodies, finishing with some apple cider. Apple cider? yes. I wouldn’t have thought of that my self, but Carole said that it’s either apple cider or I don’t drink anything at all. You know what? fine. Hit me.</p> <p>Was great. Big thanks to Carole for showing me around and telling me what to do.</p> <p>Headed back to the venue, a short walk from the old city center, arriving about 5–10 minutes before the scheduled start time.</p> <hr /> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRV7-M85KJXLD054BN8RROXX-di_OjqyLyfC3VuUEHUC9Da3C99UFX8FdWOoSEBOY0Deq7ZJaUjsZhvemTDYHELorhoV5RUgy_jhDeYnOKBhgtLuwduC90SoPZkk5PdUIHc9r8KUtIo-dE/s1600-h/IMG_13721%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_13721" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_13721" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCiFIIPyZ8tNPInE6K5-dW-DI3vP0ydBLAKpe0SHcYFt2eJeOcEXwhNbUvbiUfpwW-i2X7vCoM_Ouf_51tQyVgwdq869OzJBLI1r9GCYp_tBZAs5a6NVe7BLU8SbuHJ9mw6hq84Xht5k1/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQuDzwuDDgqsO4j6P1uz9dXZ0do1HaYBUe3vvSoZ7HTwdIUnhoD4vdErp-rExexshFvInQnakfTSCp4hwwoeZ_WT9VUgT37RrxTaD5cWoPmMe99_a_RtGtBg04kz9LiKO-IhdsoNwGZ2e5/s1600-h/IMG_13731%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_13731" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_13731" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs_ebBOQNAHv3Peu6EQCh3kdGGItU9E8lgcnIPVpCjev6ARFGOXh73MjelZ_T1aaISkGJSG2siDv1uIdJ4VwnyvGiWyeyxnot3bg8aP25CFMQWkeOqM4Rn5hutC73sdZ9OLASUZ6LB9zpi/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The venue, <a href="http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_Libert%C3%A9_(Rennes)">Le Liberté</a>, is located near the city center. For this concert, there were seats only at the perimeter—about 10 rows of seats or so—while the entire area between the stage and the back seats was open. The entire venue was “general admission”, including the seats: therefore, even if you opt at sitting at the back rather than standing, you need to show up early in order to grab a seat.</p> <p>Arriving a few minutes before the concert’s start time, the venue was absolutely jam‐packed with people. I can’t recall other general admission concerts that were as packed as this one. In his diary, Richard Bennett wrote that you couldn’t possibly shoehorn another person into that venue: that’s exactly what it felt like.</p> <p>When entering the venue, I didn’t stand much chance looking for Jeroen, who was already at the venue. We had agreed to meet in the venue earlier, an agreement that I violated by opting to spend more time in the old city center. Asking him through the mobile for his location, he responded with “right in front of FOH”. Now, apparently I was expected to know that “FOH” means “Front of House”, but for the life of me, I had no idea what “FOH” stood for and, even if I knew that it referred to “Front of House”, I wouldn’t even know what “Front of House” meant.</p> <p>As I was struggling to figure out the meaning behind the secret acronym of “FOH”, it turned out that Laurent and a few other friends were seated right above the entrance. Asking them for help locating the Dutchman, nobody really stood a chance doing so as there were too many heads around. As I was still pondering what to do, Laurent called my name again saying that a seat was vacated right in front of him, upstairs. A couple of minutes to show time, I decided to head upstairs and be seated.</p> <p>As a consequence, I ended up watching the concert with no Dutchman around, for the first time since autumn 2011 (the joint Knopfler‐Dylan tour).</p> <p>At the back of the venue, sound is usually better than in the front section, so the loss of visuals is often compensated for by better audio. As usual for standing audiences this tour, <em>Cleaning My Gun</em> was played (<em>Haul Away</em> just doesn’t fit such concerts), and it was surprising to find <em>Gator Blood</em> played at the encore. Loud concert, loud audience, good experience.</p> <p>As Ruth Moody and her band are opening for Knopfler in France, and concerts in France typically kicking off at around 8:00pm, it’s usually around 11:30pm when you leave the venue. All of the energy gathered during that afternoon’s sleep seemed to have flown out the window. Had to pass on drinks with Laurent et al, bid everyone goodbye and headed directly to the hotel.</p> <p>Tired, hungry… and tired again, which wasn’t very pleasant knowing that it was going to be a very short night.</p> <hr /> <p>After Rennes came Clermont‐Ferrand. Now, getting from Rennes to Clermont‐Ferrand by public transit is far from being pleasant: leaving Rennes at 7:07am (!) to Lyon, arriving 11:30am; then a very short 10 minutes connection time, departing Lyon at 11:40am arriving Clermont‐Ferrand at 2:05pm. That journey was one of the closest calls in the tour with respect to missed connections: any delay during the journey from Rennes to Lyon would result in a severe delay arriving to Clermont‐Ferrand. Unfortunately, so far in the tour, train delays have been more common than I would have expected.</p> <p>Woke up at around 5:30am after a short, insufficient night sleep. Got everything ready and went to the hotel’s dining room for breakfast as soon as breakfast became available at 6:30am. Nothing beats eating breakfast in a rush, after a short night sleep: a day starting like that is bound to be far from perfect. Mediocre breakfast—which appears, by the way, to be the norm in French hotels—all consumed within 10 minutes and then a short walk to the central railway station to catch the TGV train, right on time.</p> <p>The long train ride from Rennes to Lyon—more than four hours—was spent mostly trying to fall asleep. When the journey began, I pulled my laptop out and started writing this post. Two sentences later, I realized that my eyes can’t quite focus on the screen anymore; shut the laptop down with a great deal of frustration and spent the entire ride trying to fall asleep. Didn’t manage except for a few naps.</p> <p>These are the moments—when your eyes are glazed; focusing on nothing; your brain feels like a mush; you’re tired, but can’t fall asleep; and all within a train riding at 320 km/h—these are the moments that make you wonder what it is that you’re actually doing here. It’s not a new feeling—I have experienced it many times during the 2010 Get Lucky tour, especially towards the end. Almost three months away from home, out of which two months spent in extreme travel, homesickness kicked in right above and below the belt.</p> <p>Homesickness, towards either homes.</p> <p>On one side, there’s the city of Vancouver—whose standing as the best city on this planet to live in (<em>in my eyes</em>. Don’t start getting sensitive and defensive on me here) has been strengthened even further during this intense travel in Europe. The more I travel in the old continent, the more I learn to appreciate how fortunate I am to be living in that beautiful city in Canada. I fully understand now why Vancouverites are perceived as snobs in the eyes of their fellow Canadians—it’s just that the city of Vancouver is such a damn fine place to be in. I long to once again live in its beautiful city center, surrounded by beaches, parks and snow peaked mountains.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Those who think that I am exaggerating in my appreciation of that city are well advised to attempt living there for a while. I have heard of many, <em>many</em> cases of people who came to visit and never went back to wherever they came from. Try and see for yourself.</p> <p>On the other side, there’s the metro area of Tel Aviv, Israel. Israel… that exciting, troubled, constantly misrepresented and undervalued country to the eastern shore of the Mediterranean Sea, and where I happened to be born and raised. The country that is portrayed by worldwide media as the constant violator of human rights; as a war‐mongering monster seeding worldwide political instability. The country that was condemned by the ridiculous United Nations more times than North Korea, Syria (I suppose the United Nations isn’t intervening there because it’s still busy counting the casualties), Iran, Iraq, Libya, and Saudi Arabia (where they still behead criminals. Well, at least they’re considering stopping doing so, <a href="http://www.loweringthebar.net/2013/03/saudis-may-end-beheadings-said-to-be-short-on-swordsmen.html">as they’re running out of swordsmen</a>. They’re considering crucifixion and firing squads instead) combined. The country which is currently undergoing a profound, immense change led by the younger generation who is sick and tired of the conflict‐ and corruption‐laden mentality of their predecessors. Scenery‐wise, it can’t compete with much else: it has no snow‐peaked mountains; even fresh water is scarce. Life is <em>very</em> hard—virtually nothing can be taken for granted there nowadays—but this is where my entire family, as well as the vast majority of my circle of friends, live.</p> <p>Two homes I have, and I am spending three months crisscrossing the old continent which is right between them. Visions of Vancouver’s Stanley Park mingle with recollections of Tel Aviv’s beaches; visions of my beautiful apartment in the 27<sup>th</sup> floor of a a high rise located in the very center of Vancouver’s downtown—with my five guitars all laid up next to my piano just begging to be played—are mingled with those of the poor, neglected neighbourhood in Tel Aviv’s suburbs where I spent my first 25 years of living.</p> </div> <p>Eyes went shut…</p> <hr /> <p>… And then reopened. 11:30am, stormed out of the TGV train as if I was on fire. Ten minutes to catch the connecting train. Line‐up to get out of the train: an annoying small kid refuses to leave the train, prompting his mother to attempt all sorts of methods to convince him to comply, and holding dozens of other innocent passengers hostage. “Pick the kid up and just leave the damn train”, I said. To myself, of course.</p> <p>YES! Mr. Prince Charming finally agreed to leave the train. On the platform, running towards the exit. A flight of stairs. And another one. Now where is the damn departures board? oh, there it is. Wait, which one is our train? YES—there it is. Hurry up! another flight of stairs. Carry luggage up—of course, with my left hand, as the right hand is still out of commission—</p> <p>—Made it. Arrived at the platform about a minute before the connecting train arrived. <em>Phew</em>. Boarded the train, 1<sup>st</sup> class cabin… which left much to be desired.</p> <p>Slow ride, again spent staring at nothing in particular with thoughts running in virtually all directions. Two hours and a half, and arrived at Clermont‐Ferrand on time.</p> <p><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clermont-Ferrand">Clermont‐Ferrand</a> is yet another city in France of which existence I knew nothing of before looking at the tour’s schedule. It is located almost at the very center of France—about 400km south of Paris—and is known for being surrounded by (dormant) volcanoes (the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cha%C3%AEne_des_Puys">Chaîne des Puys</a>). As implied by the city’s name, what’s known nowadays as Clermont‐Ferrand used to be two separate towns—Clermont and Montferrand—joined together in the days of Louis XV.</p> <p>From Clermont‐Ferrand’s central railway station, it was a long, hilly 2km walk from to the hotel for the night, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187091-d219772-Reviews-Kyriad_Clermont_Ferrand_Centre-Clermont_Ferrand_Puy_de_Dome_Auvergne.html">Kyriad Hotel Clermont‐Ferrand Center</a>. As the hotel was located very close to the city center—two minutes walk, maybe—we decided to look for a place to eat before even checking in: we were <em>that</em> hungry. Quickly enough, we realized that carrying luggage around while looking for food wasn’t going to work out: headed to the hotel, checked in and went back to the city center area.</p> <p>In the meantime, my friend Ingrid was making her way from her home in The Netherlands to Clermont‐Ferrand, to attend the concert (now, I should tell you that the distance involved is just about 850km). The three of us agreed to get together in our hotel, and catch a pre‐concert dinner together; however, the Dutchman and myself were so hungry that we couldn’t really wait anymore.</p> <p>Looking for lunch in Clermont‐Ferrand turned out, quite expectedly, to be a nightmare. Many tourist‐centric cafes around the city’s main square—places that you just know are bound to provide mediocre food for stupid prices. On the other hand, there’s <em>TripAdvisor</em> recommending a French restaurant, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187091-d1888277-Reviews-Le_Dome-Clermont_Ferrand_Puy_de_Dome_Auvergne.html">Le Dome</a>, located inside a big shopping center right by the city’s main square. Problem: expensive. That resulted in us walking around the main square looking for other options, failing to find any. It’s either that places are closed, or not offering any seating space, or are obvious tourist traps… one restaurant—an Italian one—was actually open, but once we sat down inside, we were informed that it’s only open for drinks and snacks: no lunch. I suppose nobody there thought it might be a good idea to put up a huge sign in front of that place, saying “NO FOOD HERE, PLEASE GO AWAY”.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Somehow, I get the impression that my most useful suggestions are often ignored.</p> </div> <p>Nightmare, I tell you. Being hungry in small cities in France, while outside normal dining hours, is a nerve‐wrecking experience. I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.</p> <p>What a mess.</p> <p>Eventually, resorted to that expensive French restaurant located in the shopping center. At least they agreed to serve lunch. Good food (though not as good as that wonderful experience in Rennes), blood sugar level back to normal. Sanity restored, you can talk to me now.</p> <p>Back at the hotel, and Ingrid showed up moments later. Whenever Ingrid is present, you get the sense that things are going to be OK from now on (that is, assuming that Ingrid is on your side. If Ingrid is not on your side… well… mercy on your soul). Asked Ingrid what it is that we should be doing next, as I was too tired and too apathetic to my surroundings to even care; but this is Ingrid, and you can trust Ingrid to come up with good, solid plans for pretty much anything.</p> <p>Out of the hotel again to the city center for a few snacks and some coffee.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5xAPTD3F3vpRIoIriBuNgRsXkebVKqGZNIZroDYCRkb-ejdf7SW-hRs6z8X8rmwR6SwhQQ7gvxQfT4kgps4lz1zC3TIpwXFZvS7mhiCvWmbfBFsTiQ6g8O2bvauOCp6zrRPcxtL6sgpJF/s1600-h/PANO_20130629_171340%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130629_171340" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130629_171340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaGN2hRORJR6XQdLpB46eoT3XpzzjAvCQD-1yeODCuc-XurjNTzhaJalgaoh99D2yJhDWCRGW-ADNaWyDq5bdzYk-bUQilWlYy-Bx0ciNSbmM1gyD0mIgnL58Fhei6ygSO_PUvtPw3Rxhm/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="283" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-rQwznO_nxTnSsGyPKMuQOFURy7CISFb5Nn15PFiiXNTH7Qzb50Zr_gC7bBof6k0JaXLWC_hi2r2Ykj6eX0g4EbDYKo90g1a_nU4g3vRuhxfsjU5kVkDcmNGNm1yKAjCCpJ8XJgCfYVKN/s1600-h/IMG_20130629_171402.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130629_171402" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130629_171402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-hOiN5hBqkYPs_AH3KaPiczvekJGul2YyhurmnA90CUD4qEs1EFnsIzTSFaYW0zxPsIDyQtO-o09v3GsEWbr7Vax0Nu6zEfSJ-2dkCxxRy3rUba8kZCAIq1tsVC7X30PKK0LoWv2T73U/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ_Nn1Vm9n9fPHeMPKFdX80QQUaM-zJSAWOs4IQzuZn06q4aXGXn_t044NAWFsbCbl-Ga7bb07v3l4-czZ3yqIiGjTSnFU1XkitBnDjK4thk4NXjmYKP70bRpMClFa93Q0lHvRTzs747s7/s1600-h/IMG_20130629_171420.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130629_171420" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130629_171420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-F6QGfpImZ22oiZOM668QNdzuNkanDR8N4WW6REvTZVt5n2Rm7fz0cCCF42FIIi2fBzGPaRYdQyWN4EsFXaFROxrPY5iZsPLBS5moqCT-gK0dm-RsHOkWOfGu0UXwIkk_-pGLLZWWLLu/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <div class="indented"> <p>Now, I have to tell you this: as good as the French cuisine is, and as good as restaurants in France are, their coffee generally sucks. Well, “sucks” is not a strong enough word; I would use another word, but then I would violate my own rule of not using that word ever again (in writing) after receiving some constructive criticism from a reader (who just happens to be the mother of my ex. You see, I learn from everyone). At any rate, I keep giving it a chance and I keep getting disappointed.</p> </div> <p>As we were sitting in Clermont‐Ferrand’s main square, suddenly the drums started banging. What the heck? what’s going on? well, it was some sort of a parade. If any of you knows what this parade is for, or what it represents, please add a comment to this post and explain. Thank you.</p> <div class="indented"> <p><em>Update, July 5, 2013: According to a commenter by the name Benoit, this parade is a part of the Saint‐Jean celebrations in France. Thank you Benoit for the info</em>.</p> </div> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU4LRTLdPZqUW5JYiW2PPzmmEpxi2A46516j_85q1wMwODCKiNTMF5h3KfxHF6hxYX7VQnV6xmUUdiliyNHKMQYpM_96No9VXKZ3qwHat80vhJSXemqNtsIPLjm0JHp3n_SjVe1o15xNVC/s1600-h/IMG_20130629_174819.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130629_174819" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130629_174819" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBxKp3Z-6L6jOa3MAd1nYEzpsTGXQTHxWvhkaI_xcEfwYK5toCw7OEagFc43Imq-m4oe39S97KmKdb9WbKps95AxMUHZ4SOsi2JGSN9rW3KkR_AJfubSAtOD9HiwVXitXW3pp65e-_LlVD/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGy2J5bYmHS3kthcd9uoYcazDnZoqRHnmW5DrQzWAguUWq_3CStHuBk2G4_CrD36IKb92phcGV6lK6SCR63Tuyp3nnUGius9tbkGVDbfFMTRpFhmynBZnStz2TguF-HC63Gxim3G7XduHN/s1600-h/IMG_20130629_174832.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130629_174832" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130629_174832" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2SCZsCb5KMQ6qJv46tXxJrTGPGTeUKTt0FIWJGYuRsK6i_k8FVCu_eOcNau7Mibl2oELEACC32KEFekbUgvfoCW8D1dx45VM7Wn8WzKGjJTO3hB-V0TK1WKPYUCdjKx_KGSZUQ5dm_yp/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmTYa2J67XNtxJ2twnnaDCsvydPVwjcs1tkb_nQVfdqaqZeOo4lRLO7Arwl0IXYtutRKjIB3r5A8pMwkITx_BUSqpfhQx8_MGUtx1KEoKyMm3jMDCxxBjqqEVRs-qoVMCgYU5psWB227V9/s1600-h/IMG_20130629_174939.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130629_174939" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130629_174939" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlYn7B4nVkg26v_WAlrmj-mZKOIQ2vAD5UsENct0eqjhRT91N5EMUzWVWL51pSts-SnHhSxuHQapsOItoC9iox3KMB7BzxHe-B_b6LqIeHtOmDAHI0JHtYXqNsYb7oeG7XH4BRd4MOzbR/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNIxMiydT-f-503xUjYV8e1DNIlgV0YiD_vtF7Jr6L4Y86LjROYF3ka6YxkrbhiHs8U_k_c3g2LaKRkxJ67VgBCRXC5gU-7FHf5lVo2tkbViypDxLaRuFxkimlAI6x1uF776cwPL1pNZ_/s1600-h/IMG_20130629_175002.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130629_175002" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130629_175002" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmb_CALhLYdMl9jYynkBQUCvxo7YWzohsAnp06x4afcSNheDMUAlJ0aj4gwIXwO1j-5MUgklQSLVyVzLq4BDPAsq4V0xTKsaGQQgEpW3x71iDREavIcKVuz6c2oguBbucII4spui9UFXgv/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Back to the hotel as it was time to head to the venue. Luckily, we had Ingrid on our side as the venue was located far away from the city center so a car was needed to get there. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t even located in Clermont‐Ferrand.</p> <hr /> <p>The venue, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_Z%C3%A9nith#Z.C3.A9nith_d.27Auvergne">Zénith d’Auvergne</a>, is located in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cournon-d'Auvergne">Cournon‐d’Auvergne</a>, about 10km away from Clermont‐Ferrand’s city center. It is yet another venue in the French Zénith series of venues: opened in 2003 and has the capacity of 8,500. Located right off the nearby freeway, the entire area seemed scarcely populated, and perhaps as a consequence, a <em>huge</em> parking lot was adjacent to the venue, free of charge.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4rTkyx4KwDkclAMLPTxjNYhXrSu4zoe5Ja6UMomfvziV_TcX0OSlE6Rg8Xtmwj6iNkMh4wtYBLo79Po2eXTjWtsiHfoWCUfElCdD9TsTEQTCWB1dPBpusKBFPzvIpJGEKfM6K5fllcYz/s1600-h/IMG_20130629_183901.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130629_183901" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130629_183901" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZu4j7g5SBEfWd9avTvl-GrP-Okjemme1qtBmo0px-_A9vGK98Zu6c_24Kh08iAXX31Zb-OXUdQVdzrQ_vQYW6szJN7slIk4yVSuwQ5Y-bskefM7ZhJ-Wi7MrKqptNyfZzZGT_IM2L3XtT/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZIWDrgqTMlxhs2iT_o0XS0vwzmBJcX2-AWANhdFHEDgwuwQzdRTa_VudgbloyTMtXDj8om0AOBvcsErXBmIj7Z2a9c22ey_J_9_v1slQUhLx06FRsrSpUsNqxmDYUXmw4ECcYeGOZ99V/s1600-h/IMG_20130629_184409.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130629_184409" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130629_184409" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivF7zvHvYGsfiug8z-1MutoiMPmL6V-sBtR8lr7VE_hKONa4vyz2ya6cE2GRw5UBpsWXShQIRoDjiPvpFY2Lew2Ny5plm8luYI9Si6kqxinGjUif7E9UQqaX1C4PA9i212QkZ2JqVhi18d/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1FqAviQfINp7WF-BV_2_tcVKOtN4ssPKt3cwRMsf34rMxx9VX1cI1-0HL0HhaB4miG4ttVjjS2b0rFWiZi-BEAK9NAlR_3L_nrN7xYGeLS9mVatlIlcVWtxlHVZkX7usoy6Pp4GkDWDA2/s1600-h/PANO_20130629_194854%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130629_194854" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130629_194854" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic0PsE6iPTKHS79gYWu_nUETnXmOwY3oma85F7gSHk9FVqaSvlCu5LR3qdmQPIP4x_fYZK1xGavPyW6ouDFxvu4uXilonRJKM15-sz1q1slK4BjE1EVA64Ri9xqu21-5nUjXPRqf3yBoew/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="305" /></a></p> <p>My friend Nelly, who lives a couple of hours away from Clermont‐Ferrand, was on site along with her parents. Many other familiar faces and figures made it to the concert. After the Rennes concert experience, it was good to be seated closer to the stage in a much less crowded venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGFFA2oKWzusrX7g-yW5pqSz6FkDMUJssVtNAs_wftvro0aQe2rg0MxwY2l3ae3UFLh5vJPwvhrtoLgmJOTJFNGXBM3UKkiKmQCXUip-6VBRmZ00s-NMO1f9X5f7lJGIDCg0ZKpAkg6x6/s1600-h/IMG_13962%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_13962" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_13962" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXNjscuxzNi1hUjATbRcuIX1Vqy5Qqbck8oj1JDHM44J2HrNOmI-nr_kxssypxF32eKD1itqzweZVIEC7o_5LSQGjLpgYc7XnwT51Hqvx56EI8oXXxkfGfjv81vhB6C8vzvWt8PaDIKx9V/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_pRY28PtsJYK6YWokOe27IZcfg9SVe6X7QQ1akuzDUlpOhPJ7cuFNLKSk7hhjByPkAaFfNkzJZYEeg5QsVq7uD6avnU5pk66z7lycPwdCwISNWNGIIeODS2C-Yg4KRihfwgOMK5WElZA/s1600-h/IMG_14011%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_14011" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_14011" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipc0H3nkbKZ3sx8GSCuS4xl6XMzpMxefL-6UCwr7dzITYUc_EsEysbTzx6CMJHBI25vGMUxlZ2B5tbt4UF0jJ6SfE0-KxGyQi1AMmps8knC2p1x3bOzVbEVP0Jiyc6AWj5DBetoz6RwlVM/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHyEx3pRwQ2OfPb-p-yZbZ7sOwQ7vkI1NVF7Gx2QyaNontjgMXg5l1c_zKJgj0WNkdcne3VitnFMvZuDSlhilcKPvNzoPFOpCPjCvDlAPmD6QiF29gsWnAm10Uv42zNGilvHtJJ5czDjCK/s1600-h/IMG_14061%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1406" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgojYddMZ8lks57l1Y8HjiQSkvjp1fjLhH_JDnLfTuEYvdfC4yatsTo1s9lvyHimZSlr0TN_AGBeJDVHO9rC7CVkICd8JJNzq5kWw599gp1PBoXVX4R3eDUxIoxaMlxLQ4sNBf7y9sD30/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDUJAqmeNeO502b0zNwvaQnFN2gzVjJKruiOxIkUUxPwHICgj02X1LKyW84kV63MPkUGSw4UHSL3CDTHfkIXIdJLfoTjkcAdZJWctF3i8jmaHBCdxyRnvROmzhU8gn1eTKsrsgXwe6IkKx/s1600-h/IMG_14331%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1433" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1433" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyw9Epw-BD9LL-Z85r0myOao1biVz8iffz8hKLiCWL2n96M-f5EDqxY41k21mplxGwUHz6xx-u8e5LXOn5xCc2xD4zzGM3eJfUXNlme9A7QSqbJmbG9GJCQ53zN_3RWdMJwiFu1QgNEpQt/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Good gig, after which a group of us gathered together in front of the venue, chatting, passing the time until the parking lot clears up a bit (that’s usually the problem with arriving to a concert venue with a car: it takes forever to leave the parking lot). Half an hour after the show, there was still a traffic jam leaving the venue. Ten minutes to ride approximately 50 meters. Finally hit the highway… minutes later, Ingrid dropped us off at the hotel and went on her way to spend the night in Saint‐Etienne, about an hour and a half away.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Altogether, Ingrid drove a little more than 1,000km in 18 hours. She attended the show and didn’t seem tired <em><u>in the slightest</u></em>. I have not the tiniest clue how she did this. A normal human being should not be capable of driving so much and still maintain such level of energy. I call for a DNA check on Ingrid. Something must be wired a bit differently there.</p> </div> <p>At the hotel, I discovered I’m starving. Held to my guns and decided to go to sleep hungry. Time to lose a couple of pounds I gained over the last two months.</p> <hr /> <p>Sunday morning in Clermont‐Ferrand was beautiful:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJbdxbwOXAKP3m-ktHiOT0f5D9O56VpuAJUSoRueiOl60bAiHe7Ogb17Ac0H8vzMZedDPElO71u7l1MS7W21WI2LgG8fnKOaFMO2S7xuo_AJepUtO5RkaJtU1x0C7EBgVloRzN8OOesCg/s1600-h/PANO_20130630_072853%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130630_072853" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130630_072853" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6icdj7sDTpMC074xRilQxNSbuIDYs9NaA8dm9Zm9psar1RHH6WFPPkdSNi81chfS8HkRUz1fWNmpK-k9nIZsPj2uAcUKYGnNzFp_SGML_89k841boI1Xf-xI5_QeYvpfE1EZWuOlcX2_J/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="271" /></a></p> <p>And, as it was beautiful, it was quiet. The usual morning routine and we were ready to go traveling again. Next destination: Dijon.</p> <p>The original plan was to take the train from Clermont‐Ferrand to Lyon; then change and proceed to Dijon. That, however, would have us arrive at Dijon outside normal dining hours… <em>on a Sunday</em>. The day before, I discovered how awful such an itinerary might be. As Ingrid was going to attend the Dijon concert as well, the revised itinerary was to get off the train in Lyon, wait for Ingrid there (as she would be making her way up north from Saint‐Etienne), have lunch together in a proper restaurant in Lyon and then go by car to Dijon.</p> <p>That idea (to which I take the credit for coming up with) seemed to work well for everybody. Everything worked as planned: Left Clermont‐Ferrand at 8:57am, arrived to Lyon’s Part‐Dieu station at 11:20am. Ingrid was still about an hour away by car, so we went on to look for a nearby restaurant.</p> <p>Nothing was available, which is not very surprising as we were looking at the wrong place. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gare_de_Lyon-Part-Dieu">Lyon Part‐Dieu</a>, while being <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyon">Lyon</a>’s prominent railway station, isn’t exactly located in the most interesting area of the city.</p> <div class="indented"> <p><a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-theatres-romains-de.html">I have been to Lyon before</a>, during the 2010 Get Lucky tour. Wish I had more time, this time around, to look around. Lyon is a gorgeous city.</p> </div> <p>Agreed to meet Ingrid at the railway station and explore from there. A quick look in Google Local hinted at a place called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187265-d695217-Reviews-Brasserie_Georges-Lyon_Rhone_Rhone_Alpes.html">Brasserie Georges</a>, receiving raving reviews left right and center. What can I say? another extraordinarily delicious meal in a French restaurant.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>I also got to try what turned out to be the spiciest Dijon mustard I ever had in my entire life. Put a respectable amount of that mustard on a piece of bread, ate it and felt as if my eyes were coming out of their sockets. Really, it felt as someone was setting my throat and nose on fire; and just as it was spicy, it was irresistible.</p> </div> <p>Spent about a couple of hours enjoying fantastic food in the restaurant’s patio, enjoying the beautiful weather. Was hard to leave the seat… I’d camp there for a few days if I could. Alas, time was running out: need to get on our way.</p> <p>From Lyon to Dijon, Ingrid drove about 200km. Now, rumours are that I was asleep during the entire ride—rumours that I passionately dismiss. I did take a nap, two or five hundred, but I wasn’t asleep the <em>entire</em> ride.</p> <hr /> <p><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dijon">Dijon</a> is located in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burgundy_(French_region)">Burgundy region</a> of France. Around 150,000 live in this small city, which is famous for the International Gastronomic Fair it holds every year, but perhaps more famous for the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dijon_mustard">Dijon mustard</a> which was invented here—the same type of mustard that almost set me on fire two hours before I arrived here.</p> <p>After arriving at the hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187111-d528615-Reviews-Hotel_Montigny-Dijon_Cote_d_Or_Burgundy.html">Hotel Montigny</a>, took another nap for an hour and then the three of us headed outside for a pre‐concert snack. Oh, how lucky we were for having a big meal in Lyon earlier: virtually <em>everything</em> was closed.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEff77xMmWMN1xFeQQ2v-aCt2F4-cjrd3GVEZzcKV2a4wu3UOIJ4x5r1MBpCPesbGoH9xGwBhwSiNC_TnciXvEgVZudqk1Ryk5dmdYZGt3Us12oNQ0jD-Rl8d7tdzJxDRm0hZKxaHIQAU/s1600-h/IMG_20130630_181218.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130630_181218" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130630_181218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYDW9QdmbYBsG8vpqgf-GQb5rlSD8VGDwJiEkBaBg3dh5pv5f9wpS_xdBUx3MSlZOxBMyStItfkkFEnakXRnTzHHJEbouncG6LuNgdTCi7lljbTuZIaqeYpsF8aPq5nMkN_SJh_as63GzK/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl9sye2EAvt4kZHbOVbCEF7u6nmupf4BYY1LeV9EEhzxXL3UPuBG2P3ZGO2k8E9mZt_Dr8XF_AaVzCg_tr6UIt2jIpt3MjVgpZyR-9FXB-3l8cPFqQN71MUlGNLIFQyV_djfvJo9F0lIZp/s1600-h/IMG_20130630_181230.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130630_181230" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130630_181230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ5NyYf3B4MtR9stNmovsXYfqdxlq69HJEzgrRq6y7hV2DaB_VS9hnVdcAeq8KhnisOZanNp1VzYLPTYY3ocOpaGMxE4WNo3FizbfRbmyKGyWw_PqPxydbkEgtChGbtgEcM-0mfCSIkkQ5/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsBqnm2Q6-ayk6Gvc1wKsbZRPYQ-6YNWGra93Ruun0Xju_luZ268fbL-Q36woVhlJQ9djSxfdk5XyzThq8jFV__fpBM_IRf4E5if5vypiqrm1NoTYC3XjLe79sk8EbEwNS6BXJFo1wZNlA/s1600-h/IMG_20130630_181444.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130630_181444" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130630_181444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdGH8pV_xgtqBPO-4l0ewcqHbXbqZumynptCbGKl95AnBwzMzyRNq-rTDx4uKJdJhc3VcHNLghpB8wqcxY2ezLkdifB8hE-hRIYBWWucWJPrSP3NeiIgFicU_jpyMd5uIbXVVvZAhjh6C3/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh174ZLuLpJD0seCL3I79an4tzysFPGQnOppfQYBjSaa9DEegoBdhjQORmsezQA1w8uWbi0jGldBZpCQiMwc0DmI7sxEYw8VU9FfheGCU_VnYu9kSChQXyCeOLrKffPxDeitAfZo4VAH0SI/s1600-h/IMG_14381%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_14381" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_14381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXmsM3pQ8MmIsYwLaan8FbLcgt4tKQlW3TI2YR2BjgWPwdodQJNPWmJ995bQZDEUvRfDfqMjyVV26yjHKD6-96wPM-g1wVA-8-4wdcZfqBDSAqfTiqPOXQOO2F1krUM20gZ-PqvN-Xck7W/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8T0ySbvMbBsPNTBC7sP3_XVjnw48ujFs7gE71l5tIxvUta3unNzwkHVUrwCdDdpxyg_YB_XOOkPGCuB_zJw9sV8SQ2NO0Fv6_Hdh8vrWk5HeEgLIUEkB586oJVkFclNMFCkUD5s-j0nA/s1600-h/IMG_14391%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1439" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1439" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1z5XRaoE3zmVHU2g5dKE0d9NyQZ-sco10_tKAY4D6NrwyFYIv7ExECJ_OZgxFx2nVbpIz7Zu4mTq1ozcI4TmaNqprDmm_2dez9F7XOpLOYsYCdfl5XzQ4RW9EteGu2dhd-8YmO-VAQ0GZ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4tMBhsqHHdyyKjkn6rcez3_J3-R_5CJTjhW2itCKQzfNce-PBJTOgBGYeNEpmvXPtg091YOUv5tpsZ92mvTGCbKgoJGnC7GGtXrF-d5YzjAmQwzT8WjWtFsDdNxE1A55XjbcioPG96gXb/s1600-h/IMG_14401%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1440" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2WHLWM1dx4th0h-OrpsJ62UKlFYQiEt7KrZ2RD1nUx49uqVua01WqvNOF3tPjtY056Ox1TBOP55HT3ERbpo7IGLQq8ZDyFTAOEk8NzabmXHcH15LHHNUvW-qOIYVPOHUYui4iZQfUx2Vi/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecGxYmNPquVfZV_7SB9RVqysoSybGULDfdRL22zjuFGJtJOvwpWTIkhO-MaK9r067DF-lPT9yjL0uwqRXsgEyNxGSDt65WUkH0NrFxFt0kho2sqYOR3ozuUhCJFswu4NqOUAeyO3vC2mn/s1600-h/IMG_14411%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1441" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1441" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihaKIqDItptCbMPK7rfj9Jcyfp5V0nCBUT8UjfmBHh22xmp5tW4YOGhfmBci2Kg2uAwphxS-rjWmFLqpvZ87qFYIu1wO8RIuiTdZgrf3MHrdT_52qQi1P-It05WYva6gbJgnY_TDE0WfOk/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXlAnyQHYoRGjVdbMtLIFzVmSiSXCBHecOikGhLVJz6XXdCLoHs2JWx4-n66kDXuEWvrJpiALJM0zjeirhCqJ2WndVed6d0WsxdiLiqcd1mZ_kM7w9MnW34m8eicCdhBPFLOetG-p7RQNr/s1600-h/IMG_14421%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_14421" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_14421" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirEn6xIjravcXrc1T6v_4DbDxbF3FWFB9aeGp1tfiqaPl5AUto-vzgenaPNp1dCQW00G-bdcH_K0Z8tvnWGiX7YdF4LwkXs-xVWb68misczpYFcyIiz1nhNwqD8TMHZ3t_KPAI16QP0UTP/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Found one place that was open. Sandwich, terrible coffee and headed back to the tram station to take the tram to the venue. The machine selling tickets for the tram appeared to be broken: whatever we tried, we just couldn’t by tickets—the machine didn’t let us. We decided, then, to board the tram and do some explaining if and when an inspector comes on board, which they didn’t.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiLQ17KEU-oHID1W-Pr1arJog1Aqp6U1EngAZ-3uzfcQAneZ73Avx9Efznx8jEpm2_4kV_Dw4HRj5d_1UTiaT20cWT0tKliar03Agc8-k_2xad64JalKEi_8ftdeGkcppJeod6SriD0pWl/s1600-h/IMG_14441%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1444" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizofBQ3fCvEpVobofH5U-oa1U7N4r_ARz5YP6wYfBSZAMVxhRQ7iywo91GhVzZ-rKxL3PUS7VllSnBfDAbO_LKbA87Nz47W9CkL3Tb-wsZbM1L9pOnslwDh1Oalf3wXybA-PySJmvOJOY0/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The venue, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_Z%C3%A9nith#Z.C3.A9nith_de_Dijon">Zénith de Dijon</a>—yes, another Zénith—seats 7,800. Again, many familiar faces made their way to this concert.</p> <p>Unfortunately, due to other commitments, the Dijon concert was the last one for Ruth Moody and her band to perform as an opening act for. To me this is a shame: for twelve times this tour, Ruth and her band delivered excellent performances that left the audiences in the UK and France in awe. I cannot recall such a fantastic reception of a Knopfler opening act before: after each and every concert, dozens over dozens of people lined up to purchase Ruth’s albums. During her band’s performances, you could feel that the audience was very appreciative of whatever was going on on the stage.</p> <p>Hats off to Ruth, Adrian, Sam and Adam for delivering fantastic performances. Good things are coming their way, no doubt about it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVgJGD2dsBT8O_OBBjKSPCSjlcFE7_GMrruO4jg4oU8CFrNSYCdz9h5iUvdK3QvfmyRwnvfOcjD8WnHeXVkF4CmV2P4K9Qp7VXiNBu1xxp-lsadSgyfMdBti0E5buN92MT-Vj2XSk4XuiU/s1600-h/IMG_14461%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1446" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX3PJfq_Fno6AsX15aKRntxIt0ZJSUtTJd1Cf0TCYM9KnarKfMPVr-6Qy6MJZTGd7mjE_Jee5wcRVkzdkwDVFx5k8w7Levb1UVh2oe7_i_8_wZqoMmaTu7PH7fJaRBp1T_zU1MBPIXFFJL/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM37snrw3JBXu3C_WKt3WWjDmm5v1VpXhvi7632DRwLEZ2YB3TiEjJ9czufRAd0mzWoF1XzBCNHkaKYA4S-k5XB5vap47NbvOZzyb0yCYM2MbwrOpwTz13ftTy7B92zQkTnWJsBNzfYcLn/s1600-h/IMG_14501%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_14501" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_14501" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFE7N9EERqNMSWRPnFxQC7ZNJn2kvx8_5S6WrkUD0zy_Ej8SYw-onrjFpp3Akr9GebiiALOBjZ4_jikxXss8cAu7xETxeCrdRH6M3eWYUJ0iWiHwxkj5uUlCw0lLqRCKWMmpx1jlWpVN-P/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUDgrexGlPxU4grNPAbSAbGtwjI0Zxd8oImzlTkl1oA_Io0fWf064TcWqUjiY_3zGpnGQXBEsCpv2OlWqUrtxg9Lcs6XjGJoC7LDrvdbVcs8kFD-jrWP3yIExlayKpC7ItQmxNUPOYyfP/s1600-h/IMG_14531%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1453" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1453" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8eepKECH2TErXrDlKrolRlvAIGG2OCyrVYuxI0LsVQd-vRxtomZcNXwaww4yQmN5eYqXXT2qbnD2Oxp68YGmGVN-SWUcN0ZwT-LlowwBa2cuU4J69LF3QNLaCLESShAxq33xchrqofdIZ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5cn6osYg0fM7JLVJ-ktgkaFEP_GpRIffrxfroRI3UD4Een3CX_lzgsImE1SkXx30L2AEIfEzRUr6XAtGylzlgIQn2_MJCADFa6Z5Hn4Qcb_Lj9p6TQilnOv8lbD2MTNPqUfvUO828Bdt/s1600-h/IMG_14551%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_14551" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_14551" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix89R0Nzd_a2PAIDtEbIKiQ_QGgM3Cg3MybnHaTGSiGZx6o67FcqN_aVQ46PFZGB3-YMG71bM9bPLPVHqRTksFlYhGe16gmwlpVoVljsEqXLUlE3S-TcVZz9GHPi_qQe576ZaFRKZSVmw6/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <div class="indented"> <p>If you don’t have Ruth’s albums (there are two of them: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/These-Wilder-Things-Ruth-Moody/dp/B00BKBCJIE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1372719320&sr=8-1">These Wilder Things</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Garden-Ruth-Moody/dp/B0039208GM/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1372719320&sr=8-3">The Garden</a>), then I strongly suggest that you buy them.</p> </div> <p>Half an hour after the opening act, the band of eight took the stage to deliver another good performance. Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t quite stand the heat in the place (although it wasn’t as hot as, say, <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/06/copenhagen-denmark-to-hamburg-and.html">the Frankfurt concert</a>) so I watched a part of the concert from the back. It was funny to witness the <em>Running of the Bulls</em>—essentially, it looks as if a huge magnet sucks entire rows of people into the stage. I watched it all from the back, sipping cold water. Let the kids have fun, I say.</p> <p>After the concert, a late night tram back to Dijon’s city center and off to a good night sleep.</p> <p>Special warm thanks to Ingrid van de Maat for being the golden hearted woman she is. It’s always fun to be in the vicinity of such a lovely woman, and she <em>did</em> help a lot. Many hugs and kisses headed your way, darling!</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Köln, Germany. It was a much needed day off today… concert tomorrow, the first one of five in a row, all in Germany.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-86519637975514258622013-06-28T06:04:00.001-07:002013-09-11T15:24:32.103-07:00Paris to Caen, France (June 27, 2013)<p>After a <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/06/stuttgart-germany-to-paris-france-june.html">wonderful evening in Paris</a>, woke up feeling not much more than half rested. The hotel’s air conditioner didn’t seem to work during the night—only circulating air around, not cooling it. I have low tolerance to heat when I’m asleep, which is why I woke up a couple of times during the night.</p> <p>Of course, the air conditioner started working wonderfully, cooling the room to the temperature of 17℃, as soon as I woke up.</p> <p>The hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187147-d231048-Reviews-Corail_Hotel-Paris_Ile_de_France.html">Corail Hotel</a>, was centrally located and reasonably priced. Of course, you can’t have it all in this world, so the great ratio between price and location came on account of the room’s size. Two single beds, short gap between them, almost no room to walk around.</p> <p>Jeroen’s headphones’ battery ran out, and he was sure he had some extra batteries lying around in his pack. The reason I’m telling you this has nothing to do with my level of interest in Jeroen’s portable energy reserves (which amounts to no interest at all), but has to do with the fact that there wasn’t enough room around to open the pack comfortably and mess around with it. That’s how small the room was.</p> <p>Left the room feeling a tad claustrophobic, back to the railway station’s area for a glorious (and expensive) breakfast, watching Paris go by. Back to the hotel, grabbed the luggage and off to the metro station. A few stops to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gare_Saint-Lazare">Paris Saint‐Lazare</a>, arriving way, <em>way</em> too early.</p> <p>The schedule: easy. From Paris, it is about two hours direct train ride west to Caen. It wasn’t the TGV, but still a fast train boasting an excellent 1<sup>st</sup> class experience. Split the ride between trying to catch up with sleep and writing: writing didn’t go well because I kept losing 3G signal along the way, and sleeping didn’t go to well because I can’t fall asleep for more than a minute in a rattling cabin.</p> <p>Arrived at Caen right of schedule.</p> <hr /> <p>“Caen? hold on a second. Isn’t it where they have that famous film festival?”</p> <p>—That’s what I thought to myself when I first read the Privateering tour’s schedule. Yes! The French Riviera. I only wish it would be for more than one day.</p> <p>So, no.</p> <p>Even Wikipedia, under the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caen">Caen</a> entry, states—in the very first line:</p> <div class="indented"> <p><em>Not to be confused with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cannes">Cannes</a>.</em></p> </div> <p>Caen is a small town located in France’s north west, a few kilometers south of the English Channel. The city is located in the region of Normandy: shortly after the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invasion_of_Normandy">Invasion of Normandy</a> during World War II, much of this city was destroyed before being liberated by British and Canadian troops.</p> <p>Its population count is around 120,000 and whoever I asked about this town said that there’s nothing really interesting to see or do there.</p> <hr /> <p>I still had quite a bit of writing to do, so I passed on the opportunity to explore the area and spent a couple of hours in the hotel room, writing and writing even more, as the Dutchman set off to see what this small town has to offer:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAj1NSbeip5U0-5CDf1tJJ7SG9wBfWv8x9E5KvEOHyJ5oIdALssiEeBmPUqC_8vNaglQ0HTq22svYj-GjXllMFJfxR1agfvP0ED5UN2fjDlDvbVnqMLu7RKlom08Br7P8PSxV0FiKSzq_4/s1600-h/IMG_13031%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1303" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1303" 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href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3NmgEfrMFANdzs11dhkBvghTUQgwjI6juY68-Pm4pK-WL385xxHK1OYBX0LkSPZ0gkAJNJ6WeKnVZcf0xlH4wthBae0Sn9mWxJkLjBTiQxfvgAt3W0UJIRvUwyQXBjwZJU_aWPjuT5ho/s1600-h/IMG_13091%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1309" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJV9pbDiOUG7nEdY2DM6Wf3fOn4G8cp23l4sib06HsVIPKMHpX0GXGysXgNBPt00xlWllb5neMAHqh8FMxZKaFeivYaApndZTUGHhFweCVn9jifywXWN74-eJqlkUSUkEyiCVut9383_k6/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlKuYvFAIGXDHjA2l8b9OmWYnTtbX742PfRE44KA8r32Ur3hQ7iVwxH01GmLkMtIX9W90H5PZlQYkF7BCH2VpxgxSRU_nvqpnYKfBPkYEH0y4nvDUIeGyDp9mxT2OY5uzTMXaIDMeTv0G0/s1600-h/IMG_13111%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1311" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBiCo7zJYpihbl9irJXJ_FHxx54cOEgxU-5deuRgb78oSZ4EG_4XkoLK6Rzi-KhYdWxgmZSqj2jvUaKuS9ymw00kAV7boYqgI3wNGV7v8qV8qTwDBbC9XxSMCz-2U2Gkf-U9QWVPdrZiLe/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi63eEdcU1cQUBIujceqqnvRTr9mg_fJvtgz1Fr4WA1I4WLhj1Vb1pVwEsl3zKecB1504Yu3wbRU3BmfhEiT9Igw66DWITSRXNLLd2d1309vwsvGkme5o8AtrFm0mZCk3EnDzA_jA3Dbd_i/s1600-h/IMG_13121%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1312" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRmICPaV46QV9s1D70kIzP7Fn6zZmZWjKJYNE9i6z0pBawz1X79cEs_lnBV8zILXW1FQsvkLCo48mqea_SJSh7zLT_8jlLOKTvJ2q4FWsM7te00c8IZdn_8bjP1CdTdM1xuuZFv2g6KMUs/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTRx768XxQOEnSbryXM88HTYXc86iHDigbKnA5kgHP-_iKawlH0bhTtw8t72IuCc0uW2G4Fia1WjwE3P3KHP6thoBB0g4nWPd7h_jC9hTgXIPSxUWXVvgGubXSE49VVi2IfAm2-QLy1fq/s1600-h/IMG_13131%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1313" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyRyTTNrrga9y33eojI-Ea8X9I6ZAXcHZmJ0j8_vgEW61aFi-Z3CII50cNrx8BI2YtQgVSu0LFEY8VHvIvDSeNiC-mkgi9ImKlNQsKPWp5SNTj3WRwHlW-WbJRPxcgv3M5pG6WFtMgZfw/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipnf0KLPoaeDZIm8bj_55MzvnPw-0JlNChuM0aaTxDqe5diTf4PqJfdolumHqlKqzIv-OzjgvV5YEbZUTPKUIIrSWRv2kPPMk0IrrULPZGHBObvYjOcupCJFACdTdAeb99RKWQ9wGSUaAc/s1600-h/IMG_13141%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1314" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwNE8IgDpEzKTtuezq64fO_e0PMQZTj9FqsiiopoKA8u75Jpve9kIObJiH47Tox15zJFSGrWGp4QqKjyP5zHMg0kbmFGq8HH2AVsNuqbarDRTxS5sIFNhwYIydIWt2f0jtA6SFdE2oSq95/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Finished writing in just about the time the Dutchman arrived back to the hotel. Post uploaded—it always feels good; some feeling of accomplishment—and stormed out looking for a pre‐concert meal.</p> <p>During the 2010 Get Lucky tour, I often encountered serious trouble feeding myself in France and Spain. This is because restaurants there tend to follow certain opening hours throughout the day, and this problem is magnified the smaller the city you’re in. If you are to dine out, you better adjust your dining time to certain timeframes—which is not necessarily bad overall, but extremely problematic when you crisscross the country by train. Why? simple: often, train rides take place during the time when restaurants are open, and once you arrive at your destination, it’s too late for lunch and too early for dinner.</p> <p>What do you do in that case? well, you have the obvious option to starve to death; but, assuming you are not a masochist, you simply have to find a place offering lighter fare—usually sandwiches, desserts and such. At times, you may come across proper restaurants offering food outside the normal dining hours: you are likely to run into those in the more tourist‐centric areas, and food there tends to be way overpriced considering its quality.</p> <p>That’s exactly what happened in Caen. Looking for proper food had us walk through the (small) city center a few times to compare between the available options. There was no place that could offer what we were looking for, so ended up getting a small wrap in <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187182-d3389438-Reviews-Big_Apple_Coffee-Caen_Calvados_Basse_Normandie_Normandy.html">Big Apple Coffee</a>, then heading to a nearby <a href="http://www.paul.fr">Paul</a> shop where I was refused a cappuccino (again—second time in two days!) but allowed a proper sandwich, and then head back to Big Apple Coffee for… well… coffee.</p> <p>That’s quite the effort to exert when you’re hungry.</p> <p>A lesson was learned: in France, Italy and Spain, research will be done ahead of time to decide where to eat upon arrival.</p> <p>Nevertheless, Caen’s town center area isn’t too cruel on the eyes. It is small, and maybe there’s not too much to see and do, but I wouldn’t call it a total failure. Took some photos myself.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwTOTMbx9og5x_QHlonpb3ZoyxkGdJZu93wlrVaFO82lVCJ-KW632pb4_IE-gOaKxCik1j5j1D0zgnk_jYbHXkbNz42z5VJs3twN50x1p-CiNS1Ru9kgY88EltFtbprRwxprKLr7DPRnz4/s1600-h/IMG_20130627_165752.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130627_165752" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130627_165752" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF4sObMkl0D24djVic63QLM2R3HNCBXFqZyi6kQDWYqHi5Rve1BipD5rySTbwIjg_PdwX3tA4uc7_OmblnoG0T73-ECv7ViKLOAE3o_mH9h40jALuYyBGqCO3EFjoWzbglLhzZZoRXewxg/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsKwaxIg7ALGqw1MP5XFTvCekbdiKh13n_Y1L9gwXjTkrvmIcigGoO245ApRVoNdSosE-reBgtEyQRuX5bNJPnAG6XU0VbhsQnoJCYpWdlgDegQQxHu3ZMJ999gwPOFN_976-xN2wjO6bH/s1600-h/IMG_20130627_165915.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130627_165915" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130627_165915" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXe7RJFzqn6yjjOspWQ26s4Te2Ie1-hlYj1ksPpjD-D_VOGtwvmO1VPOdWQVAs-KpWq55vVq8H4Y1azxoMGFQ8ehPb2DgabtAv9cCpNu7Az8I3ei1ZkiU6EssUwgqscwX7y802MoIFXchC/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXhPje9rT1Df8bNR2qjHiTgbdUhhOkTyRO0G0xGvdcEjXgDyP4mZqcIarJhWkdiLdFmpFKS08PkbhIxedWcEJVafyPVleFIKGjCtS9MnS8TfLoaa3NKO7ZkHpCdopC9Ccv0-rLtBASnJkv/s1600-h/IMG_20130627_170038.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130627_170038" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130627_170038" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw6QddD_tafk50tSCbHg5eOm7Sg9DfWohxMrA0oM3TSrNCoeL9WBlbpKLW6Ysz1QtKOtc88by-_6oUl111eQbkN1FUF68TWjIPR3yopkqIUfGO_hLuKivWl1KWNagKSwm4EsQ1gIQGRr27/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTocSkxoIOpgHa2WSnY86mLjOV3EajawT6e8rXhUIhDtwpF7fDyTGFpHQmiM5_flDNNRVWc6wC-odXpS6TfNbnff24nmPP2KAous49MQ5HtYRQ7N4xQNNgaqswGAFAdkT4910fyix_rJnp/s1600-h/IMG_20130627_171140.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130627_171140" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130627_171140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZBe-M2ku_jHBG-A6AmYV8058KSXjDO1ycIVn7N7U9rKprBBbI5nBnE1kGoVqWF4xwRNHImjSgk9UZjydPff8lrKiJkqE24FZAV4KRDSQlH2TlN3huKaA_uPu_gs6slhaYbPZVIXmIOfRj/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMH7AxGT-RwhcuGHxMlyKTWVyeMDU-VdSEFdxPhLdS3G2ty9-XeGxsLXyDvcBqhAwmDtSChpeIFe9UxyjpSFs0EzsLfBlqLVkVT6wr1Qju7uJnQMQCJ_uA6TcpJxyiiWjpgfsRbX6ZcNH/s1600-h/IMG_20130627_172131.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130627_172131" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130627_172131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBvnSdf-zGJl2d5RpWZFgK0D8sXNndRFXIJUNxF-axnvjuYSr_lfudQ7DtwiEVGCcdBBd_20Mp3NAm9QFh2CYW3NhgSVdSyaq-hRek90LeToo0kvt62Ag_UfKxAidYcdG64s4PAsiH6M6/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaHq67tA-XOsCnC4_MtM-ZwhEF6KT-rkiLSoWB9PFQoXh13-3AMG3nQLMfZ0n_t92OHarEkKI4jaaLlYO6bAfjZFl45uAVLJLnkwtJXZvhEZKVUscIjcO2gTztiNDnefFTks-aRs2w40O/s1600-h/IMG_20130627_173114.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130627_173114" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130627_173114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_X6iac0hpiar-SxMsiB2TqtASi2J4hou4rnKqwpzS_JXOiSkicWqJ3iDKOYtHwagCDmvPhFbabdKLdz10u74RydgkiARhpGL3v-iVfCOSZdftMZLAYB-D835mPhOO8ZMbvPYwADKExGEm/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Came across a restaurant that offered tartars made of lawyers:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIzGvAizdd1JU5lcO0bxWPRS0FTrvIQL4nuYzebTvqotcQsqMpifAA1EBfT341dPTgDH1TDoS4x6eL45_DIKcaTUxc9IsLR_qK3MJ4nqMEuoJ1fH_XvO13mn9Z08IcQEaqdbL3zt5zjIsL/s1600-h/IMG_20130627_172403.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130627_172403" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130627_172403" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQnlD2mZsCz40sVRvG3VZHbKLSyeS-Efqc-qza08mNlsN9PME_xf0xTY5FW5GDCZktDpsIWJ-obT3BQAqIqiadeCEC3gbf-USxsHBncF_xfXATC_rmVarocaQ5_aPwuvajaBT2Etyt89W/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>I don’t have much against lawyers, but I still wouldn’t want to eat them.</p> <p>Back to the hotel to grab a rain jacket—as weather forecast called for some drizzle later on—and out again, heading to the concert.</p> <hr /> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6kr1QBSrh2Fy9uUK6d1IDISOUio1z5citdXYHWO5MTAiC9CagOwMLrjwfs8OBAL0yXUu7k10ObQW3rvVAmzuxq1QzMx4ST6ARZg6Ad7jQkw9OrOxQ_i7KB_YQwvbTCykzJSRYEBt5KTwx/s1600-h/IMG_13161%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1316" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Ho5Hga6755ojGf8NRGqs6zzqn5D56SOYGScbcxHawOANfYsbs_CPLGNI4LeXXn9JF1mPA3r204A1FXo3LTdT-_Fxw1MvV5nV5-TayKryjhU7eiV2pHB7uYIU1mKMCSIeEk_MKWGN2VMt/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The venue, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_Z%C3%A9nith#Z.C3.A9nith_de_Caen">Zénith de Caen</a>, is located about 2km away from the city center. It is a part of the Zénith “chain” of indoor arenas. It can seat about 7,000, and it did—as this show, like most other shows in France, was sold out.</p> <p>First thing was first: collecting the tickets, quite expectedly going through French efficiency at its best. Long line to a small booth. Two people working inside, and still the line takes forever. The two seemed to not really understand what they were doing there in the first place. Are the tickets in this pile? no… let me look… maybe in this one? yes. Ah, no. Asking her colleague now. Meanwhile, it gets crowded inside, as the booth’s entrance also serves as an exit (otherwise people’s lives might be comfortable).</p> <p>Fifteen minutes in line to collect the tickets, then trying to enter the venue through the wrong gate. Forget the fact that entrances’ lines were pretty much vacant: still, no, you have to enter through <em>that</em> gate. Yes, Sir: please, control me. Correct me. Lead me. I will learn an awful lot about life if I am redirected from one empty queue to another.</p> <p>Entered the venue and headed to the hall itself. Approaching the hall, I noticed yet another long, <em>long</em> line‐up of people standing on some reddish carpet. OK, that’s a first: I can’t recall seeing a line‐up in such a strange location and in such a strange context—not even in Canada, the mother land of all queues, where people fight for their right to queue anywhere, anytime, for any reason.</p> <p>What is that queue for? I didn’t know. Now, the entrance to the hall was very wide, and the queue was very narrow, so we just entered the hall. An usher came over and mumbled something in French. At that point I already lost patience towards any sort of bureaucracy or protocol: really, screw this. Just headed to my seat completely ignoring my surroundings.</p> <p>I can’t speak French to save my life, but the Dutchman can (to some extent). Turns out that we were asked whether we were “already seated”. According to this venue’s protocol, you need to be seated by staff upon your first entry to the venue.</p> <p><em>Excuse moi</em>? no, I wasn’t “already seated”. Here’s my seat, right in front of me. It’s two meters away. Are you really expecting me to wait in line just so your colleague can peek at my ticket and prove to me that they know how this venue is organized—let alone that the line is huge and the concert starts in just about three minutes?</p> <p>Don’t think so, but really, thanks anyway.</p> <p>Apparently, though, I was a minority in my line of thinking. That queue just kept growing.</p> <p>Ruth Moody and her band, the opening act for Mark et al in France, showed up on the stage performing their usual set. Apparently, her parents were in the audience. That didn’t do much to affect the performance, which was, as usual, lovely.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcJxQ92kTJvAlhB4-Xw_nd_y6vgzKurbqkXu48E424l8jfm899Of4FDfPqH0g74Zukjg9TST8ozx6WJYX4ntN8ww2y4y8v_YpI0XEL2PspFv-V5X6CU-3oWX7wwY-IZY1LJHumCY-TZ8IQ/s1600-h/IMG_13211%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1321" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2dhMAGMpipCrnYlUk6eMFAiB815b4Z5ml9PmB9mzraK9pzJMAUTCLFzFj9ChXaEVN9AkTiLc6i3WbAE53qhq3LmOx7A8POfPaIeDu2Xpmuh6L-pMQwbislwQqNuOyDJp1xXhsiG43XcNo/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1WfULNW1bsJHsos1oPoFLIdCDjbiToaOWajHec1k3c_YAWbSnQ8zgVBw_a1pTaeVbWwzQTeQAsMVeQfUw41sIYuPQuZythLoiALLZFJPF5mRz-vQi3H9kWKcpjK_q5D-jRCJ8YnjLb9R3/s1600-h/IMG_13241%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1324" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi682jvTYFsSnc8lUaEDFL2A5HY7ov6e3mijeRKcMO8rhRPRQES2plKNaILVrsbLcS8LUO52q0XbD6tmmN8AjSoZ18nV_8qgy-_gOdk86aCjfoF1lcxIxqMfr3W_32evnPXaVjHeClxYSM0/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_0n6Cq56bXeIiMK6Mz9tJh4Pl_3ciEUr27Pv8pZG7HjnSy85tin4jsofUuENUZql2UthOk4fZY4uPxq35PRJuZzlhFjwoTGDQljoPNg3jMKmfPln_VbjbbiI2VnRyyrTHAuD_iePtUN1/s1600-h/IMG_13251%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1325" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUfPiVydcxfaYVcLPx24VNhx4rbUl83aY09RGAvMp-SFsvpuPfB-oSTFX3UY4hoZuOFCA5sKf_liaYOIAbBu3m5TSryQRsjTbd44InwNubUrhUn6N_orLfBn8-7gZSWRhOl69lvV0_HQEZ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqxyeaAC1bG3HdilCVLugb2P4BGTHB-c16uupSLLh5yeYXh4_BT5ud6Cd3WwfBL1oozhzxTfNE4JNyGYPXjtrLHwdGcyS9lG1Imj0Z1M9XQt-ObDcbELvfdyJ8VbDtSWbgOc7Zzt_AvOE/s1600-h/IMG_13261%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1326" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRos5EpLk-z49n75ahVkv8FuWKoUG1ahzHN0C1YdJNiNsZo6v-07Hb0jF8ZvVjCN_WY8okIqhRHcgtBQkKzD5v4iDHYcnqICAASorSzStuUWoUU0pa_dJX3twJSmrBfSON_3YV0C9g_wWQ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Of course, ten minutes into Ruth’s performance, people were still being “seated” by the courteous staff. Now, what happens once an usher seats a person? they have to go back to the line‐up, to collect the next victim. How do they go about doing so? AH. Good question. They do so by running through the aisles. Imagine that, staff running through the venue through the first 10–15 minutes of the show.</p> <p>Ruth’s act concluded: about 20–25 minutes break and Paul Crockford arrived at the stage, asking the audience to welcome Mark back to Caen, setting of a stellar concert, not at all less impressive than the one performed just 24 hours prior in Paris. I was expecting a shorter set (as the band had to fly back to Paris), but no: a good 17 songs set, including the “Golden Moody Trio”—<em>I Dug Up a Diamond</em>, <em>Seattle</em> and—performed with Ruth for the first time since the Amsterdam show—the mighty <em>Kingdom of Gold</em>.</p> <p>During <em>Marbletown</em>, certain people decided it’d be a great idea to applaud during the performance’s more subtle part, prompting someone from the audience to emit a rather strong shushing sound, stopping the applause but starting a wave of laughter instead.</p> <p>For the first time in quite a while, <em>Speedway at Nazareth</em> was skipped, triggering a rush of enthusiastic bulls towards the stage. Learning my lesson from the night before, I walked forward very carefully. No injury this time. Let a short nice girl in front of me (she seemed to be way overly ecstatic of whatever was happening on the stage); joy, happiness and peace for all.</p> <p>Looking at the stage, I noticed a large piece of paper, on which there was written—</p> <div class="indented"> <p><em>I was at the Royal Albert Hall. Please play Sultans tonight!</em></p> </div> <p>—which made me wonder perhaps I should bring my own piece of paper to the stage, with something like the following written on it:</p> <div class="indented"> <p><em>I have been to all concerts so far in this tour, please skip Sultans tonight as well. Thank you.</em></p> </div> <p>(Unfortunately, I don’t have a photograph of that paper to share here, but I will in a few days.)</p> <hr /> <p>After the concert, a light drizzle through the 20 minutes walk back to the hotel. I was planning on doing some writing but was so tired I decided to skip.</p> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Rennes. Will try to take a nap before heading to the venue. Need to catch up with some sleep.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-49186050517329099932013-06-27T07:45:00.001-07:002013-09-10T01:41:04.945-07:00Stuttgart, Germany to Paris, France (June 26, 2013)<p>Wednesday, June 26, was a day I was really looking forward to: this tour around, that would be the first concert in France. Five concerts in a row in various places across this beautiful country, before heading back to Germany for a week (and returning to France for a few more dates, some time in July).</p> <p>Not sure how many of you, who are reading this, had the chance to read my <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com">2010 Get Lucky tour blog</a>. If you did, then you should already know my feelings towards France: I love it.</p> <p>My first time <em>ever</em> in France was during that tour in 2010, and I approached it with care, as I was told more than a few things about the French people: that they’re arrogant; that they’re snobbish; that they won’t help tourists if they need help.</p> <p>This is all complete rubbish.</p> <p>Arrogant and snobbish? give me a break. The fact that they’re not as polite as people in many other countries (notably Canada and the United States, where politeness is, more often than not, artificial), doesn’t make them rude. They’re direct, they’re passionate about what they say and do—which is precisely why I think I can connect with the French mentality more than I can connect with many others. I myself am direct, upfront and passionate about what I say and do—a trait that I preserved rather well through ten years living in Canada, even though it closed a few doors for me (but opened a few others, probably better ones).</p> <p>Combine this with the fact that the French cuisine is of the best that this planet has to offer, and you should understand why I was looking forward to visit France again; and what would be the best place to start, if it’s not for the country’s capital city?</p> <hr /> <p>From Stuttgart, there are a few high speed trains (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TGV">TGV</a>) headed to Paris every day. The ride takes about 3.5 hours, during which the train reaches speeds in excess of 300km/h. TGV rides that span multiple countries are usually <em>very</em> expensive: even EURail and Interrail pass holders are required to pay a hefty supplement fee to ride these trains. This particular train, for example, resulted in a supplement of €30. Without a rail pass, the price would be much more.</p> <p>Having said that, the TGV’s 1<sup>st</sup> class cabins are more comfortable to ride than the 1<sup>st</sup> class cabins of, say, the ICE trains. Seats are wider and more comfortable, and they also recline (slightly) better.</p> <p>For international travellers—those who pay that extra fee—a light meal is also served on board. I can’t remember whether I took an international TGV train during the 2010 Get Lucky tour; anyway, neither of us knew of the coming meal which is why we bothered consuming breakfast at the hotel as well as buy sandwiches from Le Crobag. Most of that meal, then, was left untouched.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRqLZWPfqLVtHbM4rwAAtzEgQ-CUzoupnPXv8IvoRaLYDio02t6IV-X9BTzSYbOPVk_1Ka8RhjWu5tFPcKIhwhDqLc5WdLl4MTX05RqCNRFMj3gBZVf-g4lPOouIUIio17tIDLSWB5KbJs/s1600-h/IMG_12411%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1241" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-foIoSS50-L4Be5ZOSz6qpOnnbBysUn566JRmvFxAjHxPRkoHG8yQu0PO0HnJ4dGbR07MVEb1EHqONTuU8Gw9JawBeT8W6YOcnQiAbTo0BYdBJ9-7iLbgxX8ODZJk0-6AM2CxvMcetP0t/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It was an uneventful ride to Paris, as I spent the time partly for attempting to doze off and partly for writing the previous post. These posts are surprisingly difficult to complete without proper internet connection—best I can do is to bring them into “almost finished” state, and finish them off once I have access to a hotspot. TGV, unfortunately, doesn’t offer on‐board Wi‐Fi (other railway carriers, such as <em>Thalys</em>, do).</p> <p>Train arrived to <em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gare_de_Paris-Est">Paris‐Est</a></em> (“Paris East”) railway station on time. Leaving the train, I took note of the weather: not too cold, not too warm, a bit cloudy but not too much—in other words, this should be a good day to spend outside.</p> <p>The hotel for the night, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187147-d231048-Reviews-Corail_Hotel-Paris_Ile_de_France.html">Corail Hotel</a>, was chosen for its location: a short walking distance from the concert’s venue, as well as from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paris-Gare_de_Lyon">Gare de Lyon</a>—a major railway station in Paris. It takes two metro rides to get to Gare de Lyon from Paris‐Est, which took a bit of time to figure out as I don’t have much experience (read: I hardly have any experience) riding Paris’ metro system. It was around 2:00pm, and the metro was flooded with people. Much like a sardine, I got cramped up in a cabin on the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paris_M%C3%A9tro_Line_7">M7 line</a>, then changed in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ch%C3%A2telet_(Paris_M%C3%A9tro)">Châtelet</a> to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paris_M%C3%A9tro_Line_14">M14</a>. One more station… done. Off the train, up to the platform and exited Gare de Lyon onto the street.</p> <p>Welcome to Paris.</p> <hr /> <p>From the station, it’s a five minutes walk to the hotel. Checked in, and instead of heading straight out, I decided to sit down and complete the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/06/salzburg-austria-to-stuttgart-germany.html">previous post</a>. Believe you me, that was a tough decision to make. Weather outside was fantastic for a walk in the city, and the hotel’s central location made it seem all to easy to just forget about writing any blog and head outside, being sucked into the rush that is Paris.</p> <p>I hate deadlines (although I do insist to meet them, especially in my profession), and when I’m writing, I hate to be reminded that my time is up. Therefore, uncertain as to how long it would take, I informed the Dutchman that he should not wait for me. He didn’t. Took me about 15 minutes to finish that post. Took a quick shower and headed to the streets.</p> <p>A short walk north, there’s the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Place_de_la_Bastille">Place de la Bastille</a>:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb5V_CW2jzm9tK2DcIwVlLIvJorAIjBk7yG7LdFlY08WCGnKl-miC8eKE__QN2UNY3fCLFRx33_B4QdkvfG7tEuwpoOYuoEru1kkwpBV4xSC7Sf4PpBVsGcLV3fPSbeeuSEHrALG6zAyoj/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_143712.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_143712" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_143712" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7byIp_vZLbiVHVV-b2-z2-NS6VmPpQtzulaxva_XF7vL5-JqO74TAWok7u_0v4RAB-p4wLf_Y7CtJCCCe6LWdLar3zcbEapqQxyDY5qd4Qg0-ptcIdCe71hck_cXwqbEJ7Aewx3fL4uNJ/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>When the 2011 joint Knopfler‐Dylan tour <a href="http://blog.isaac.shabtay.com/2011/10/day-off-concert-day-zenith-arena-lille.html">arrived at Lille</a>, I remember going to an amazing desserts shop there called <a href="http://www.meert.fr">Meert</a>. Those sweet memories (pun intended) prompted me to search whether there’s a Meert store in Paris: Google Maps found two. Went to the closest one of them, but it turned out to be a very small store, offering mostly candy. Still, I earned about 10–15 minutes of walking around, taking photographs of this beautiful city.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgioQECEalLS7o9bmUO-6hFbX4GpMZJ6xwDzyume_9MBiGUP1sbZEtBuaWWBLPeyAjih5bkVXHBuujJLxMcwlnlWU4YUN8YUn6w9rDARUv6I65uVZkwpd26lPk-eEov9j5OkjRIX1svCXIM/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_144202.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_144202" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_144202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27x0Svhi5vwXe8-9o6g9UplPla7uGfuufCL_1YDzk9aVGc-u7wjKTfRQCadF2HGdAvqvCXVPPHVBZDP4laJZmDeOusjLGkCH7reRFrCTjoy3zVzTOPY8Y6eLzzXPPolK676gkVKwesUHj/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioBOuhKjAu-DqDxMuYCweKUmpbMKTyk-y4B2Rl2kOzTlb4bcMiyRvXZ1GtybKsrUrCGYLFlzvc3SAJ3PymdDwcue-4Ek4PzSv_ZYQB-Wh-sZgE58brcEqJBjqmR8qBWFgI2PU_ofM7va7o/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_150559.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_150559" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_150559" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbJ8_zHG18MvV1mT2GkcuO5l4_5op9rLzvcAIp3WDPwf27-b2y3TYJrUyzrF9zVqXSyjKuMtAdRdGBh9cag4epJYZN2B7yyuMiyoaCm4m3gYICAL2bhp4KR7FPpprFJGhwDYgtRLJ-ckHE/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Coffee time. A quick search in <em>TripAdvisor</em> brought up <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187147-d1869695-Reviews-La_Cafeotheque-Paris_Ile_de_France.html">La Cafeotheque</a> as a potential provider of coffee. It’s currently ranked #563 in Paris… out of 9,774. Approximately 94% of all dining places in Paris are worse than this place, and in a city like Paris, that means a lot. Headed there…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9AhaJowDI8PJDBamPsVqbWbHL5aqawORCAupsqJ-aVhavJzHGn_p_qZjt8thITLsURfT0GHd7pWrL19W4SDa-fhFUzGMAhso1w8RcrdAoFA1bBUeqDBcBvJdVQ7Xx8GhejytZwJiroRGW/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_151109.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_151109" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_151109" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWOo3oahd45GgYxP5st9LmK5VvtKO7z0aD6ZlT7-rDJGHzAheac5Hdqmy_ScvDNIDc3dPajy6h8pLvxBthgnbB_4zj7cO3E3bM3vv1mfwwg1pDhmmTE7yPfcKqvZZZlPdywU90k3enjn66/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Not a regular coffee shop. This place is divided into several “parts”, a couple of which have dining tables and chairs, while one particular room—pictured below—was organized differently. A few random seats, plus one long cushion along the inner wall, and a few small tables (more like stands. They were very small) scattered around. Gives you the feeling that people here come to sit back and sip some coffee over a good book or something. I appreciated it.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-HIQtzX6GvMV69UeRJ_Vt501dYsuPaJyBheVUdFwrsCaSvDMkxwUj5X0-U__7uNvtpjDAkoBRkVrX-X19S5L9Dk268nnFqz3Kd8xphf8b6w-VhboAAVFslN5ybMLrv_C9-EdYiK-3i06/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_154216.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_154216" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_154216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTTh4_ybfcNJHA1y8rFM3S0UGutnPnMrYXChr5fgW2U8HxxLH2et2WLoKFOcqWqwaz-Uxf0PiK1NCV-dl8l-JGn1AJOUfJWHyMEe4CReER7Gbo05f9jbXU7kvrQCGwMYAQFmxWKTWznEu/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4DrWipyHGlzZfDpBPBLOxd4elxaWRVJtl44nryvkC8jiE5HT0zT5OGXfS6wns1EO2SgD3zqY1RLAL2-YyDsDCH_CpTngt2ggF5Udp0tpUpZ39iYPiwYfFV6iI1MdySapMYk9_FWKfOLdM/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_160824.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_160824" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_160824" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-uqmd5lj2_pcPDKTxgwGgBDQl6_PoE0gEvFNBTYT6CcXYin6raItM6s9kXKX4-nSAdud5kHjTRWVS_n1Q8O70Zs0aRqWBCi0kvYLBe8WW-Ad_YTCXqGvwrCSJcqUIqOOWQjsEcs8_2nV/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The atmosphere there was so nice and charming that I didn’t even pay attention that I spent about a full hour (!) there, sipping coffee and enjoying a delicious cheese cake while… well… hard to admit here, but yes: <a href="http://www.chess.com/members/view/isaac_s">playing online chess</a>. I lost more than I won.</p> <p>Back on the streets, I just wandered around aimlessly. Crossed <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pont_Louis-Philippe">Pont Louis Philippe</a> (<em>Pont</em> = Bridge), taking a few photographs of the Seine.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Z1oreI3c5ffn8XGnuJHWH09IG3_biS1LjVxObhJ8jYIh9i22oorQ24KYCpLXnf7L_ViqfFpTQbJvxNuL_WyX4ahP0LrHUdgcxovA7rX7S0CjdjWMgfEFwHqYfo2QWEoTGKD6_ULNW1JY/s1600-h/PANO_20130626_161254%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130626_161254" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130626_161254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvd1GE77gtiZIl4ubhI2J8_9EfVK4ReVBACeLecKMTDB14u-95UvPZTkl_Arrve1f2wiXR0wYc0ybhFvAWHFfNvbdI_Whe0utQLZ0EqiRSMrIOUNciXEqLGzEA4GCOkIhtBvSPYzEc7SEd/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="219" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm77L9nhQGFnT7gFRumzg8_qWSNfGohPLdvzK0U0889t_qNvGOliQh2zGvSTxid0eIbdAmBvqDVb68Dss71W1rmcmcApsHnQY5gIxLzQ06-42KGlDTfNlaWwjtKAG2LpjV9lrpmnivEXBP/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_161407.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_161407" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_161407" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMM_R-8gsKj1WXOvOnQ_nKGZQIM83w6XD3tkOReBGyu2A-4PuOd0lzklMZgC6Umf3VsVRHvt55OPSsQZRDSm_LE790wuMHj5DdudeVDj3MzcYKGvcMek8LnqdohApLr7dr5IBHqZ6Rt_n/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF9Vvv0e2hlIRfMj2hzA3nKD-XDrbBkGjzov7QkHqGOZ4mPV9O4pSmM-Ul7kI4WjMokO2NfN3e2Wt1i-v4AuoXmhFMq8DyzWOnSopczdRhKuM7zquMImoCvcVtGBefV3vgqO8AsVPO1tOZ/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_161417.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_161417" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_161417" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw_18FNjQPOqPjynqbi4YtlPWHg5IiRx_kMde4GVl_1FrQxfuiktkJgAA7Rzvn7nmWZ32LKj6jzhnYb4_2c4-MafNuNANA5mpLHS2z6HLhGnG-Me7KAC58aq6-s4cvHmLu3bP0Oqo_DaxK/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I couldn’t possibly take good enough photographs to capture just how breathtaking this city is. You could easily spend a couple of weeks here and still have a few things left to see and do. Merely walking in these streets—even without any predetermined destination—is itself an enjoyable experience.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHZ1CAIcHoMAKlrMeZFYeu1kJclB2yRlYhPOEAoZ5JREkBM6xMbCCG_zFmCX93zQLFALuLNPxWRBbYuQeIu2a_-rioDarV_mol1Dbt2BCOaFJpZV17NSn8zIQkEK13dmZSp3tv-65JPv-M/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_161506.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_161506" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_161506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMYNWjHOpRt16Bzoie5ZP0rqE3WLCznWU0s4LaCTEAsJodz0aNl4uFn5ebpVBWw_SyJMT7jMN2XQftz3amx8GRDiEAIf7pPuC7b8tb8dm9VY8YLwhq_7fYVgRmHEpkfOB1XfFyOvbhjsW5/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEYvvadluiiQdyPJBO6CV8JRQ2IHb8LYNM9LO1MNbtRUbXv5Vs86Ex1epcZQOnBputuhCnQn5MC0gc69IWtxtRQmuMTGiqEOPWU47pfqdlaLyX-SQc9M80pPpo4zp-3K4gIewPLTrrtdwT/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_161617.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_161617" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_161617" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-sbo-zr6sD8sr3YCxgBvaL4ReY7Hh1V0VWkJvE37U-7rQX5ZIN91W2z-KcZ57cB83Tz6bpn93E6njaW7jqVrL0STr2Yzf8S_vC0Jgav0Ph7kCgmSZQwsptKQY-DBfrrLaHCVIHKh4le3/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>South on Rue Jean du Bellay, crossed Pont Saint‐Louis, leading to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%8Ele_de_la_Cit%C3%A9">Île de la Cité</a>—one of the two remaining natural islands on the Seine within the city of Paris.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQ2vqBqSyDXbJ-gPIdQfQb6tVvsPXGTJkN4TUnqnzIMmPuFOujkHG2ZFx8aDyS7zMEV1eUbEzvqUm2giWE6tGEIdCXWLylBrN-rS9WowBCeAVKXeUeYS1XBRPXoebWaufozF7G5nwAVMM/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_161703.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_161703" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_161703" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN7OxWWWSWKZT7e39_bKya3N3Rk8t7f7gZip914CNvkyKwPGmSyhoFXGT90U419mxdt4bG5USQ4xB2S2lNmQDQueqZU7-zVzhR2EYo-miYQyLxPsqWZFMnORd76yJGq3RnYWtzpU2AgOKL/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwrN2WgSS6nJoCjqiU7ZcfhFdgPeswxwnwHxxJ5wrA5aDz6y-tDyBmlQ308PfciGUiieX5U3oNg48hQICqnCVyJw-e9UmqJDwhuo82oen6oAQ5sjT5Hsw4pVRguihxRjVSqtSf1XJ_Q82R/s1600-h/PANO_20130626_161708%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130626_161708" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130626_161708" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGttUybpoDnRQun8WDeo1DBd8jRz1NFB4F5t9jsOyiYTUFIPolqChbjIFvPcvQaoWoWqYJ2fnC30GTOPyJrOCb0kB0jqOQORZePXW8uOs7wDfNo305uSlJ9G5tx9sd4vQsr8JxjFM0zZz1/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="216" /></a></p> <p>Accidentally, I entered a street that was flooded with tourists. Headed there. To the side, a beautiful square—<a href="http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Square_Jean-XXIII">Square Jean‐XXIII</a>, named after Pope John XXIII.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaGhi2e2NFOaHXcIcfOmSdyCB_6-yHgVkAyUsPA3HwcuVs6N3f9L5QEugvtggNvch3PesHHZa05UrwGKUjBggiVbMd29yvZ4MNIXDDHZ9cOxSpzTN9VdabXixpse978nUmkeL1g6-zW_zu/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_162124.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_162124" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_162124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-ujOZZpUpUxIpEEAvPNLPYBBGO4MFgnaBHn7QOMRnrp7j_FAE_JUsJud-sCcvl3i4KcQL56jjE6FUQ8rfTst4iETBRuxKtd1UacVrHTjomL9ZNwb_-ypKOtqFIkh0OQfd3w3ENV00OSO/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzp59Hwkdfn9RJusgY9vy5I6JgKZCAU-KiwVP2Ooe6ftc9zD8rN84XskeKZ_O2IhCY3UfcJhHYo1q3O0WljfdFtOLBqYu5hKuEWaDEtMApvUJHRFw9e22cV5Zmy3kAVhYPXZoI_I0L95NU/s1600-h/PANO_20130626_162143.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130626_162143" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130626_162143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsK2LBgQNQgZRW2rcReAbE-EwW9e7UGReUegDSZE3_SuXBU_Zd531-L75lNI1uLGD0SrdTxnFWqT7rCpLrm2HK_AP6-fkmFMANnQ2V80LW1B8bbtEL4_oSiu9sLYYAw9KZWFy39irOU1fT/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="221" /></a></p> <p>Right behind it, even more tourists were rambling around like maniacs. Turned out that, incidentally, the world famous <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Notre_Dame_de_Paris">Notre Dame de Paris</a> is right there.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd8VguksW0mvbUiLp4ty7Zt6fCnlUWj2qDjCguRN5EoYnFxlClESC8gqxv8ekpNsPso7UezOfNSDxhMnMbD6IiuQpI0Ri1usuBhMn5P2BNEu3UFK6dtMxm12ySILfVMKVgg2lNY6mzZAly/s1600-h/PANO_20130626_162909%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130626_162909" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130626_162909" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiB-Pz-ieMQBQPfjBRr5tvoaL6TfcYOZ1aBD9C9v4Kt5xpvg1egi-DzQXyIPFhx2ix30ejMyVkxmMzdNRzMTiah3sYqG520LqybjB9wCxHP7bz2_NOG0abLPpswTX83GUVMal1VH5eqIWD/?imgmax=800" width="183" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge9iTl5VQ7sXNHn5bly-fdJWdz46uGFHWJCq-8NFwwQvbhZiUagSqYMl_64MibyTiLAFC42Lp7p2smzCjm5oGrn72CKUZL9Eg1i2uF-YyEZ-bomLrSabqavA7CSzSgPKrFZUfwq_b_TZuP/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_162940.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_162940" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_162940" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZhgtj-5RKH8mBl3ULdunKc62Mnur7sQMXLAd1E2MXMMst4sZpTT76ZtleAEmZRI3C1FezBuMAyF72bHKPL8PyiTI9rATvbSB4y9WgxG6lvJ_YYahn-SbSXkRn26qGeyzhV904Y-munWJL/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>I could have kept on wandering around for hours; however, it was time to head back to the hotel and figure out technical issues such as… well… you know… dinner.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfvAbDUeBQckzRZPeVtIrWF0kYvfLND5gDpb7G8nPhGerxtlDWZ2fQRSv6c_lfv39gLIiDmTf_oI-zVG5-Niy4efiMTvmOc8Ho6SsRZQai-7vJsaU1lcK_jROm39OR-l1Jb9XjMHMhyBrJ/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_165436%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_165436" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_165436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIKieyMYGa_mORCm-lP8J5W6Z3c74jWLJT2JtWykZYa2rTqwNsP6xSnYPfks5vDNb2btpTGJPjxQ_NFRtHIP441ykoRCr0PtObBgz9jhBJID3OrsifdXRNqGOBxz1kszsl7kzX_r_ibSTF/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The Dutchman was already at the hotel when I arrived. He had his fair share of nice walks around the city as well. Of course, he took a few interesting photographs. I chose these two to include here: pictures from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pont_de_l'Archev%C3%AAch%C3%A9">Pont de l’Archevêché</a>—also called the “Padlock Bridge” because… well…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzBhkol9q0Kwd4nfzYBpnV8hbWMBaJ-NGJewA4M_fmp9jmaJJtE4fOYVQQSJXpQp5bDmDjEY5MAYOh0IRB23r_q36miug-ESMxCHKwOpKBLU2f9s084X14jFyorMtEFSkN5QYXby8Ol09/s1600-h/IMG_12461%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1246" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8AttTRq4J6O5XppWXberBB7kaZ5f8FMaEqLViFxEAOb8M6DlIhC83ELzXMhH_iVB6KrnjuRGYY56BUcHm26o5LkKSndUQTt9vBKUmnptTayLNUP9IbotemM506uEvw9oxmct3NplliIQl/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIAqPipDW6EPWJVWX41RkPAP0QSTxvurgD6bQCEhyphenhyphenSIpn3BtTMoKJtbkOChz4FLDgNtWDzAaW_fK4WKpSaXryvT8gpwCB58jeIHYG0aNFldTA5DPTEhSU3iPTEhVhkXd8kOf25jAUHmMFj/s1600-h/IMG_12471%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1247" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWf2hWTyHONId-16YO3rcFR3f32pWpLW899QdlD_gjixGqzXQdPlJvwsGfI0hM0tw5e8J-nW7BpiBCwO568ohZatl4J2p5r8_7Znmp2_JU0EbkMCvvm4cSfHvD0AJVLhkFMO7l-gBGHZPo/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>An attempt to look for a place online didn’t go well. Well, that’s the thing about using something like <em>TripAdvisor</em> or <em>Yelp</em> in a city with about 10,000 restaurants (that is, about 10,000 restaurants known to those search engines. Who knows how many more are there): the variety is so huge that you really don’t know what to pick anymore. It’s much easier to use such engines in smaller places, showing you 10–15 top places to pick from: in a city like Paris—especially in a central location such as the one where the hotel was located—you could easily sift through hundreds of restaurants, completely losing track over things.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>One of my all‐time favourite books was written specifically about this subject: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Paradox_of_Choice:_Why_More_Is_Less">The Paradox of Choice</a> by Barry Schwartz. This book is a must read for anyone with the slightest interest in what motivates people to behave the way they do. Truly an eye‐opening book. Read it.</p> </div> <p>Completely unwilling to spend too much time looking for a place, we decided on a place called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187147-d1567976-Reviews-Aux_Cadrans-Paris_Ile_de_France.html">Cafe Aux Cadrans</a> located very close to the hotel and the railway station. Grilled salmon with pesto and wild rice, drinks and I was good to go.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7CYcUyK9s05CxhyphenhyphenqIin8c0QdiwyAAPU3QOPrC48XXhd83AK6ryRXl-0Jjz_u39Ei_mw1lpWqg509ixem8bimKjbRWabr783OSX6W0ovMU9eT5MDuOaHFDJVghWzsw7aYFeRenXzJWLsF0/s1600-h/IMG_20130626_180135.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130626_180135" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130626_180135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1YFx8QmV_U3T9aBxS-Y7xJEI-7x-dSbMvag0-8oUhLdbusOHu-9o2OCWdJuhY_1q52W3suNNvyZTYJXFOKsBG53wTZxbXua3SQJ8L40qDriRLxOFovvdOg1ahkgZ0WeD-5UqIu4is4PxP/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>The venue, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palais_Omnisports_de_Paris-Bercy">Palais Omnisport de Paris‐Bercy</a> (often referred to as simply “Bercy”; “Bercy” is the name of a neighbourhood in Paris), is an indoor arena and concert hall in Paris. I am no stranger here, as I was here twice before: once during the <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/06/concert-day-palais-omnisport-de-paris.html">2010 Get Lucky tour</a> and once during the <a href="http://blog.isaac.shabtay.com/2011/10/concert-day-palais-omnisport-de.html">2011 joint Knopfler‐Dylan tour</a>. The Bercy is located a short walk from Gare de Lyon, even though there’s a metro station (perhaps not coincidentally named “Bercy”) steps away from it. The venue is surrounded by a myriad of dining places—cafes, pubs, bars, restaurants… really, endless. I’m pretty sure that this venue doesn’t make a lot of money selling food: you need to be particularly negligent to arrive hungry to a Bercy concert (unless you were rushing or something).</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5bVesKHGEZqhyaQ7K145zPyoIJAfFxwQfC2uyhaXP9wQgb2aWWE3958Ae7AfPw6H192rvk4XOhkcBvmYeAWLuSzLoYwvw22G0UunJGiIZSBIT7-i9jthVF0wktWnrfuGAv95YwafaRzF/s1600-h/IMG_12691%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1269" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTC2wul9UoqjUYpdWr2KURht-1JRLDCuqZBCSwDEoQvwjwa0QKzaD9eBGVyEeeyoBbJiD2gX3UJmZFVzCe3R2ssT7h1Mh5_WJiZwM6lZpcibRTRiIKKOnMkJdTh6klTzIFWw_MYI_nbe86/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Tickets pick‐up took place in the regular place, through one of the side gates. As usual in the Bercy, an exceptionally long line‐up for ticket collection (note: this is ticket <em>collection</em>, not ticket <em>purchase</em>. When you’re in that line‐up, you already have a ticket purchased: all you need to do is display some ID and get your tickets. Not rocket science). My friend Laurent joined a few minutes later and informed me that this is French efficiency at its best. I couldn’t believe it when I was told that there were actually <em>three</em> people working inside, handing tickets to people. It really took forever. That’s about 45 minutes of my life that I’ll never get back.</p> <p>Tickets collected, a group of friends decided to head to a nearby bar for a drink. As I had my annual third litre of beer just the preceding night, I opted out of alcohol. Everyone was ordering beers and other alcoholic beverages, and this stuck‐up snob asked for a cappuccino. Laurent, communicating with the bartender, informed me that I can’t get my cappuccino. Why? because the bartender doesn’t have time to make it, he’s too busy.</p> <p>I still don’t know whether Laurent was joking or not.</p> <p>A minute later, I spotted a couple of familiar faces outside. My friends Jordan and Steve, from California, flew in for a few shows in France. Mike joined a couple of minutes later. Was good to see these good folks three years after we had a lot of fun getting together before, during and after concerts in North America and the UK.</p> <p>Time ran out: headed to the venue. Entering through the gate, you are being checked by three different people. One checks that you’re at the right gate, another checks your belongings (if any), and another scans your ticket. Again, French efficiency at its best.</p> <p>The Bercy, while not too sophisticated a venue, is still impressive to look at.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnYRKvD_UjNnu1LhEqyvZWrgaXyjWibtmixDmtjnqGzklc9esbRVPAsOFLs7dV4dyrnoJS6xa4SLgPT-e7ncrXVcO1Ox4h82DWXUuMXlvkBt2DgguTVSbl_N_OPOTmvYQu8RTTyZdbaaes/s1600-h/IMG_12711%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1271" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhox9JCD0n1CPnFDHg44A-L7qIz5J2DaQUCU4i8v8Jz3FR4f7f245RPjRcNakEeZCr0zUT-3ZZkoBU78qf9IfpxHA0AhFzkHudcgMR7DlDpL8-BOVd1ZiMry38DLYWg3W74uTSaNQAhkSwh/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNNz1K0-QSEmsz64fRVYeMLT4AKhW5f4AdFbVmJbR170XmlrViKoLpXKmPSWHRQ4x6zSyy1hF6WoNfFUzp9MRXFOYq1YwRV8S2R4NnpYXasgdI1jQJlRPLMxJemKjEZMNHQfOYpAsJursE/s1600-h/PANO_20130626_211135%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130626_211135" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130626_211135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvol3HUjLlb1durA1raErhqIuyXkxlFv9VQSAVe8GowoFXaWk9hv02W3LeRgX9F2bIImTc-hwo_vGjOERckPu1ruNHaRpwRtTSlNKKKK2-9DaemYTRZwWf3aNMucvIgZ2CHgP6j__jw0l/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="109" /></a></p> <p>Ruth Moody and her band are back to the opening act spot for Knopfler in France. Was good to see these folks again. As the Bercy was sold out for this concert, I’m gathering that close to 12,000 people watched Ruth perform—which is, if I recall right, the largest audience she performed in front of during this tour. Must have been quite an experience for her, but she and her band did very well.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIoPGMJECFf0B_4QuU6z3JuMMMnXPcQS5r-7OC0KiUaBuZQDvlvHMVmG6JfJPuqrO4EZulLNDM6YxGPlYj73rqkDOdZryVleS47bA9qzizRjEgKPe23zUn-j1sBCmMRV21KZoOCZUMhMMy/s1600-h/IMG_12721%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1272" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizWhPlFBJZe_r1UeGL_PNPEhqjPi58l8hIUzls-3Q6PzmSfX7bfgf93eGETRIm4Gci9I5uwmB6AKbRVv0fVztB6lxgy0eeSKwb0XMNDYML-qxS1_0XRlLYcSrL4hqBHM6LQmCaIGg1JWxV/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5oQVJyqTHf4_Z2VJBB1AGBV8bqGSSn2QFQi29xCQdZoA72uHPLGMdXy2cWHYokhwqKrMsOnKIKYWaIBvSKLFwqZGnG17M4bBzkLUjtaSnPnMuLVLiW-eXrgk5JxECuY_brcAH7PXcnoS/s1600-h/IMG_12761%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1276" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2alItdgWeXqRPVOPc4A4WHuj3bN4Y_MqmulTvUwNzT0YyT0D0xR0G-9BLgkarhD3-y7BZbI_neEGDTIyzXkHwHrxj-OzOG8YTfuqm3lslj5uJgzMJdXszWnLSneRb7v7jMX5H4Ku66R72/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Half an hour break after Ruth’s opening act, and the lights went out again. Immensely loud cheers all over as the band was introduced: Mark’s music is, and has always been, very popular in France, and the typical French audience isn’t particularly known for it being of the laid back, quiet ones.</p> <p>Of course, the audience and the band work in some sort of a feedback loop. Stronger audience reaction triggers better performances, and vice versa. This concert would definitely be considered of the top ones so far this tour, and Ruth joining for <em>I Dug Up a Diamond</em> and <em>Seattle</em> was a major push forward.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNJ8ktZdNR3ECaNtqAfjc9CMrE-Wk8GsGgUeH0gfvLq3lTfn13uiw1354xH5QwMcoVCedsJe845jneTFJtdACet8RIwFiO_RC1FZjnJTsr_iEJYWPtybpZx0n2mqvvHue_inXARaFXTq4V/s1600-h/IMG_12871%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1287" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gN4vaIRO703OHskKi2xLalYNeZtr1FKvZwKA1XAVLclGXA2xQe88kzdlpcOXIBRHpogeZfaZxAEQ9q0_oMv-gG57htBmpiYoYqX27brHd9583q99WD7-D3V9txNvgmsaZh7fZEwCA2RU/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY_OzuX2ifYgMr7Vy8BLCQHPhyY5zlA1jCuQxt2oLlSz06pgmNkWICvIYeFTzqhYvP30ZPiTs93UrPUehW7mTNWemeO6yyT2OHcIQ7TPCpyYyKVUxTeWwLGVX_PtP1d6fp1EVQCctUjZ0K/s1600-h/IMG_12931%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1293" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK5F0nZhRoXrcVtfh15Q0hKaY6TvuNAc4_xhTJce7uh3A5JNNufrAw45bkCwqGq1QLH4PeFklSO63_qb_VzJlj7i62EwiyZU4dPCIH4BUOanae4MPcoavzodhz7yBRqQcmg1ryb2IP7Emw/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihv3E-19A_Q7ItvMHVDwG7UmwFF2yCWibaKjCpAhvyivyVhj2mYicBvuVRrAG4CWxQJt_oALLlRVdJIkn0DK9FxVcZHPejV97sAsjDF-uNT8voWNGMx6n8ZdIY-kqgJVmUuLxUGUaaaN8m/s1600-h/IMG_12951%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1295" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgereanGrbLAGLTSq0lismBTod_n9dSVc9Ku70TDR0pW5eOAt276Xb-cFc1rSlvRwqQFdJ_7ifDYIrgGZ3nbXBOFX0AZQqa4wjeYIaQNel78c-cKS8sybVVuN5Amocic_vBMrNTcZK1jHLe/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFRXXinsW7OejPwnxLts3eh1yFRcDYPMRxwHXdsgB44jnRt3E4lXmfuZpmEXrsXCR8zxVS8wdURES7gqaG5gU2ZXwf444q7bCzCbRRsPyLaEaqc4wjvTiaCNxTQzSJXSp8Cb5PEvxBtqQU/s1600-h/IMG_12961%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1296" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS-StxOZ8yPLN2jKKZqA1LIDu4XpsyuU0yunqJHtYfB1Y3sJjSXssrKv6C_p_djHE7eJhuM5Qq_wpNm7hXoeMyaO5lKfUU7jtGWagOwmAXVXNqrah1ugphT37VOp8srqT4FfSSBdg2NtHz/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The audience… well, the audience went nuts. That, again, wasn’t unexpected. That’s one of the reasons why I like attending concerts in France: just being a part of the audience is already exciting. There’s a lot of passion flying everywhere.</p> <p>The <em>Running of the Bulls</em> commenced very early, as someone from the back decided to head to the stage way, <em>way</em>, before the encore. That triggered a major rush. I tried to avoid it, walking slowly towards the stage, when I was pushed by someone. I instinctively pushed back as my sore right wrist was hit, only to find out that it was my friend Vincent standing there. Apparently he was pushed by someone else right onto me. Sorry again Vincent… that was instinctive. Perhaps, with my wrist’s condition, I shouldn’t even have got up from my seat.</p> <p>Beautiful encore played in front of a standing audience. As <em>Piper to the End</em> started playing, I was sure I heard some sobbing behind me. Turned around and noticed a guy who was obviously extremely excited and obviously emotional by whatever was going on (I wouldn’t be surprised if this had something to do with the actual song, rather than the event itself: <em>Piper to the End</em> is a very touching farewell song, written by Mark about his uncle—a piper in the Scottish infantry, who carried his pipes into the battlefield, where he eventually died). I realized that his view of the stage was rather blocked, so I offered my spot to him—an offer that he appeared to be very happy to take. Glad to have been of help.</p> <hr /> <p>After the concert, a group of friends decided to head to that same pub for drinks. Sure, why not. Vincent was there as well with a few friends for a while—thanks for the drink, pal, and sorry again for that push!—and it was already after midnight when Nelly and I bid everyone else goodbye and headed back to Gare de Lyon, where our hotels were located.</p> <p>Great, fantastic day in the gorgeous city of Paris. Hell, it’s about time I head there for a proper vacation. A day is <em>far</em> from being anywhere close to enough.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Caen. Will head for dinner now, and then to tonight’s concert.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-33938639821637766432013-06-26T05:08:00.001-07:002013-09-10T01:39:07.356-07:00Salzburg, Austria to Stuttgart, Germany (June 25, 2013)<p>Tuesday, June 25, was a day off. The original plan was to check out of the hotel in the morning, hold the luggage there, spend the entire day in Salzburg and take the night train to Paris, arriving Paris Wednesday morning. However, after that <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/06/copenhagen-denmark-to-hamburg-and.html">terrible night sleep in Copenhagen</a> and my decision to avoid night trains altogether, plans were changed. Instead of taking the night train, it was decided to take the 3:51pm train to Stuttgart, spend the night there and proceed to Paris the next morning.</p> <p>The good news is that, in retrospect, that was a wise decision.</p> <p>Woke up easily Tuesday morning, looked through the window and noticed that it was raining. It’s likely that it never really stopped raining since the night before. Didn’t rain hard, though; something between a drizzle and a light rain. Not something that will make you lock yourself up in a hotel.</p> <p>Other than offering Wi‐Fi service that hardly worked, that Ramada hotel showed interesting ambition asking €19 per person for breakfast. Yeah, right. I’m definitely going to buy a few slices of cheese, bread and yogurt for the price of one month rent in Bulgaria. Shove it, folks. Checked out, kept luggage there, put on rain jackets and went out to explore the city.</p> <hr /> <p><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salzburg">Salzburg</a> is the fourth largest city in Austria. It is located on the banks of the Salzach River, at the northern boundary of the Alps. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wolfgang_Amadeus_Mozart">Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart</a> was born and raised here before moving to Vienna when he was 25 years old. Salzburg’s Old Town area is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site for its baroque architecture. For tourists, Salzburg is a preferred destination for its scenery… as shall be demonstrated soon.</p> <p>From the hotel, headed towards the old city, with the intention of grabbing some good breakfast along the way. Just before the bridge, there was a Cafe Sacher—the same cafe that sells the famous Sachertarte.</p> <p>There are three Cafe Sacher shops in all of Austria: <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/06/regensburg-germany-to-vienna-austria.html">one in Vienna</a>, one in Salzburg and one in Innsbruck. Funny that within a few days I came across two of them already. We were standing in the rain speculating whether we want to have breakfast there, when I noticed another cafe located right next to it—<a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g190441-d694509-Reviews-Cafe_Bazar-Salzburg_Austrian_Alps.html">Cafe Bazar</a>. Jeroen then remembered that he read about Cafe Bazar online and it’s supposed to be good. Not surprisingly, then, we went in.</p> <p>Right upon entering this establishment, you know that you’re in for a treat. It is surprisingly spacious: I am not a big fan of crowdedness, let alone before breakfast, so this place bode very well with me right from the get go.</p> <p>The menu offered a few breakfast combinations as well as a few “a la carte” options. Took a while to ponder upon it all.</p> <p>Waiter came by, asks what we’d like to drink. Cappuccino for me, thank you very much—so far I’m a big fan of what Austria has to offer when it comes to coffee.</p> <p>Jeroen: “I’ll have a tea.”</p> <p>Waiter: “English breakfast?”</p> <p>Jeroen: “No, just the tea, I want to pick individual items for breakfast.”</p> <p>Now, you might think that Jeroen was sarcastic. He wasn’t. He was completely serious, which explains why he initially failed to understand why both the waiter and myself were looking at him as if we were witnessing the discovery of a new planet populated exclusively by idiots.</p> <p>Me: “I think he meant to the type of tea you’d like to have.”</p> <p>It was evident that the waiter was quite amused by it all. I know I was.</p> <p>Beautiful breakfast. Never thought that even scrambled eggs on toast can be so delicious. Exceptionally creamy yogurt with fruit—savoured to the last bit. Brilliant cappuccino to finish it all up and I was a tremendously happy camper.</p> <p>Go there. Don’t miss it. It’s a bit pricy but definitely worth it.</p> <p>Breakfast was done and over with, the rain wasn’t. We were considering just going back to the hotel, grabbing our luggage and take an earlier train to Stuttgart, until sense finally won. Heck, I’m in Salzburg already. I’m here. Rain isn’t going to stop me from at least seeing a city that some people claim is the most beautiful one in Austria.</p> <p>From the cafe, headed to the water and turned towards the bridge.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHBJjXREsBSHEB8DUQXlUcdohr1RBNugctsXNJZFz4UbrBw3P0kCCDUXP50e8l9bqhXBbOqMJiHhx1a8biVeSomkNQC0_KXyIjnqKK1luiNje3wgHXGK1-zQx3r8DtX1odvoWRW2GqmIeb/s1600-h/IMG_12151%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1215" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx3IKfcmGZkmXbyjT1isoT9lIN0x70MXTA90vcaIm660b-Uw3LaW_Sq0px7VOSQOeHQ-Ry9G_9bGbNFFsZW18JHRnCbaNTj4gN_gHPH2y_VMkXyFrZsIZH0KT7v04QYJT00T9LDfRIPeAl/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghUn0L_-d-N1wKU2RTkecNF6MtpK4bhtixZCBrtauamGd-Zc7-Fb6WjA4Nex1WEtFd3MDwLso0GcgnIO6adIGbosgqNL5e11MFcKdGwRFrR8-Y2vdx1Xy7QVNX3wNvkM1JOq5NeVOvNsp4/s1600-h/IMG_12171%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1217" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZDr0MA4cEsEd9Jwnc7AGrQHdgZYr2yAD_656Ug-nncpb4DAIXyvp9xJH_UTPSzyx0vLhp1wdiNRxBDJxzmBAnd3iyvWgBlbPQK1lFAeFVNBBzDXTkSnzyto0v50gVgJtoLo5KoOoprqRe/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Crossing the bridge, you can already see that this city has at least some beauty to it. It’s gorgeous even when the weather is lousy—I can only speculate what it looks like when it’s sunny. Actually, no need to speculate: a decision has already been registered with me to visit this place again as part of a proper (non‐tour) vacation.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY3lDRK84_goWgGgMij_gX2A1SObfj6M4RW3VdmgFgMG1dg8Ov1vJMUiDv0T-3V7rS2yjKsAqfUTFU9W8ehh7ocNKDx2SJjGUtxDu5D6urlHO82xcOGqxJHWvmKDFoxgTQMdyidZyylZKg/s1600-h/PANO_20130625_110835%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130625_110835" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130625_110835" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJNIGBryczAFKztcOWvKL9m-uwjmTk8e-Q48L57Z8VJej39X_scI9JdVgkNJ1sKn4GpKHh1E5N3Gkm2n6J90OlxhBFcn1cBiW4XmVnAsTkqYXRX_8vpMC_k6r9z19ccWp_Nsi6LPT6RuQO/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="277" /></a></p> <p>Once the bridge is crossed, the old city is right in front of you. Tourists flock this area like termites. Mozart’s portrait is all over the place, in every way shape or form that is sellable to passer byers who are looking to spend their money on souvenirs.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbJb_r38dWEV1WSbkqdMW5xG7EyQQaRqoBxZY3je6zi1EwCx27NfGtrufSH-sqgNlCcSjSJh-bjCPO74jkRwj7KfX4vmNee2qsuftkxtN2qMpbfWFP9QRnHpXPYiYZxbwvDS4d2KJF1G3/s1600-h/IMG_12211%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1221" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_AnRUcga2N2KAo6DKTxWwqe9nMRybd73dH2zZswObqtNJZnu24qqArpDRObh0KTNB3yZ_G7srln4GF0qKXcvMjtfn8fsqYNf8DasbK3vFvTXE_aXrAr5ZymAVosUYsysubIGf2r7h-OYY/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>See that fortress up above? that’s the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Festung_Hohensalzburg">Hohensalzburg Castle</a>, one of the largest medieval castles in Europe. Decided to just go ahead and climb there. There’s a funicular that takes you all the way up to the mountain, but we decided to walk instead.</p> <p>How was that walk? one of the most beautiful walks I ever took in my entire life—despite the rain. The path leading to the top is steep (though well paved) and shorter than it looks like. If you’re there and are capable of walking instead of taking the funicular—WALK. It’ll take more time but you’ll be greatly rewarded.</p> <p>It’s really amazing to find out that people actually <em>live</em> here, high up on the mountain, overlooking the city. The residential (fully detached, of course) houses here aren’t extravagant by any means—for the most part, they appear simple and moderate in size. I can only speculate, though, regarding the land’s worth in this place. Such a gorgeous environment.</p> <p>I’ll let the pictures do the rest of the talking.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6WwYzZHhkeW2657Jz-S6LzTPnba8bt3Kp23ovVlkRlM1H20emg_FiIjwGo1pIG4OgWh3BTCkB1APo9v5KcClbXuewrOe5w-fekgC2_6JSlqPj1twi9sDVJqet28yWJDyljYbjpp4hogYD/s1600-h/IMG_12221%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1222" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVop03aoYGSxRJoc2ejLcSyBtaGS_5b2chayu8T9WlDVKJaWXfVsGJw5xxtfWYYXo_Sie3yGM7iLZrPCJyyX3oMht6Z-Bz6edAsE2qxPogoAzpS23T-U3UCcq7SOsjghNrf-0FLrg-4yd/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOTolM5OMUyFId0UBJAvP2rsVVK-YlFVEoTSAde0p-898iYmyp5-6j7RGZNKawxUl9HdE3P03wZYecGTTSzOcuASUJsdOrNa7dEP9nXTELYGGHHXLYCl_R2uRfwbNNJ5U5msbJEt4opF8t/s1600-h/IMG_12231%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1223" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgffkgdWSOL8CwF3XGyd56L8f5fJb5XNGIMjt8a6MyqNgpquuvY9zTq1G8r5dqHbkd7n7BHjzBDvdgK8ewJYObQ64TnGwNKIzooH4_r6v8EcS9_NNUO3eHsPvnWlEu0vaJAUAtBwrKNQJxd/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh4GcCGKQGBoYZtizVuKcL-Smla3MSMTbdqhKmOZ4TOwxCSvyhouhrTL-2hWBHQsRrIDR2bZ-nnn9oG1w0pvQ3RVAQwKJh_IMG4qgiT8e8pLDe8bTHoD_2bjyLym-hO-7JSp6M-BvhBWrf/s1600-h/PANO_20130625_113659%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130625_113659" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130625_113659" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5yo6lGaDL3H2oLfijaau64eesd5w5vRKU6vUPMQe7qwdm_Dxoqqejd2l-ETEeYCx9Iaw53SYyr3Rbke9m4Lq6ZKkq8jNR56-pTXkE3TgkJ67M6msJ9KD0lIsdPKb3MlgY7oQKoh4wJh3Z/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="279" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvCaoepBfrv76_ZRxywa-zDx4lWYyB-UYO7qfE4eO-4o4RF1ANT40E8mLPqJqOm1bj8g9DalxORKQ6kArXEGWUcblyDDa98b_oxqa_h9-kXhhr7V-HSWdM0HC2zhG0lG2pdxJwiF9ox7h8/s1600-h/IMG_12241%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1224" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_pkzOeYCWVKsHXRUtwfTySPIaLn2Um9pFPG7AdiYEqEZvP8hDgEhaEtN9RyUzhn_iZiHJZH8oiOCIm81Kj_TyHxMKEFYGamOzjUxm5APYoZyrZWkH5BQ0m36VRqQxWm92t4v5_D96m6J/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmzR9v0ZHHNqINalpqhpntL2iihX_fhKbRHOu9MIzcudB8bcdB6KIShFSp8vT5seT7XY5M8oob5MUfy4of6Eb_CnIw8ZW3TSxapHiPqTXLygXt1IoNQ2bUzOaHUeUbnKAKsUFHiQkyQuF/s1600-h/IMG_12251%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1225" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFbnM_uXcFxl6xTAzua3DReRlmiiCwkMs4UcE6HskbFRojUqnqgZtktDax8EnVYFuFR9YvRtL-pItFOrWiT3PA8yy-Rul29KmRjs6ICWymKLQwfcu_NQGpAP0p1pac8q-8t0PTYTksg9Yx/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The path leads to a few viewpoints, as well as a cafe. Didn’t go all the way up due to lack of time (as we decided to take the 3:31pm train after all), but the first viewpoint was fantastic nonetheless.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOBPQZ7pBhOe_UR3gf7N_42DyxPcV9YFhvmOzN4I7SaJdoFeC0uedbrKU2hsG7S3iiem-E1R98ulPLTKabnkKJOvHAQGjSRl7Ea-Y9ycLcUb0iNOpibhEkbKFFCAM8snN6FEIJcEaNb99Y/s1600-h/PANO_20130625_114551%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130625_114551" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130625_114551" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJW6ZmER_4N4RVMFWp_DbLd5yfxZ7OaUcu5x3_R5FJM3n-aGa1PVyQwzhvSgfJ9gsYbCrmVDOKRqTC4yJexcACxuxvD3-lUDl4HuloW4mQXSwpy_Oz7mslCnYcYYSfzXG1mMNfv3rxDK9/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="361" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMyclMggSTYswG4iV7I3LAYWQJxC4Fhuqa4BFEYgFoBGqP864muemfieHe3U7bIGPy6rAY8HTQOn6_8n3OHnf4Gu7xYvTkJaHzAqeJ7cfWf9x7OwrdAzt0UHY3vOIK0XJjbgVy27nbAodb/s1600-h/IMG_12271%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1227" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDCnUfs8CDd0pjpGWbGPKoUo6cJN_RZNG_qvACCgsmdPE6-LqZHJaZZGIjgYyCaEthhodjaco_Nv71ZTMGPu0ntSzj0e84U8XVtBP3rF9ktpz1kiyLMhiaupHb-H6CPQ0yod_JQoikfYaU/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbuTrOctvul9Nvjg5o8bUgBf2UMx2H2CWGeK0qia_KRYlr1Li-VqtwJrt5s-udUnjhoiYs3N8inTNAQGfHCWCQ4DOAMxE7AUV2HuT5ffOiiyUR5u_a3-_CjVwVL3sohTkBSodVtv6SX3Mr/s1600-h/IMG_12281%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1228" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7_sXvl6uLLsCteXHrrlcW8PNJiOPUxLmT2_QJYKuJAGJ-dwFzHmAO-F_YcqEtBhj-ulgHzpBE_pUg0FqjXQxajyyCvynkDtJOz_0oMKBZWQuDW3ogHTYaEsiY_9Rx1Zxe_UWPykj04bqT/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc7rJ7WFNGih1HXAK6krcwHxJWMOGkZYlPtZ3OdVherCBFVGjncrMiyqJWxizCKp3DC9n7j-o6thTzmzy1fYjcomMBaTuhMYtsugqZieKhfcjZcfMjqlYMVNdRfWi4JMC9ics-iyCMYZ1F/s1600-h/IMG_20130625_114811.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130625_114811" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130625_114811" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSrX1sQ03jUI0a6dXaRfO675j__ezOfGvx7QBvhg6SstKyKwEI1s5IrfabVXbbgOEgPlK9bTvWZZn9YJSwLd2YRCkC6gcQLLWOm4oWuRaUiW1RFKU7ujsi5-M06QEfwKEeZpiEBr6zhXF5/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NJL-zcLTrtnEcnQBX69JofLggZqyKUYKWAqEWEJPjvxoEgey8MpE2EFp_29dXCHjAurVZUZh7w2q0wlin7IFJ4dvmdoAOzO2C1nIEtobgMpegh0povjkaihHaEM1z9cwFOqd-Xwfcs4E/s1600-h/IMG_20130625_115003.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130625_115003" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130625_115003" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4op_qWriE1aaoBwzAs1t52hpp7TmjeMXzee2dwVZxlM7YbCF0PZBksRT_ZdoOC89esq52j-M6bk3IYqAXr7w0NSkFjoswmu4fre7m8nDeFXjjzXHmWeyJ9LUghBCzbB1rx7YPPIV8-W3/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPTeiO09eQW79bi_cQ34e5PxUD5rcfaDgZp-gyt4J9iToN7t_m6wf96J1RcYp5FFiJs3aWdDH1u1njhrqza3iUObGvmx_6v2OSV2US3ypbxEejRPRMp-lpTrMrt4NUi7A9uI9HApUMDPc/s1600-h/PANO_20130625_114920%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130625_114920" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130625_114920" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgimwowxFeL4lT1AvFIAMQAj0yRg2rljPTiprcn4DC37kzhfKwB679a366jthGpWsn-e9a2Zc38n7oVa3aftLnDj3wjWYKPxD9BTrf5w9vxNsM51d2_6Z-gzBTAlFmNh48jqZz7w4l5OmJL/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="281" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibH4NG5MjU0h5FXSfEZrYHxnkqM06ovuqkImXoIdagYM645DXb_WhOGskYAhrbQ5xY8UWYFKKUmF5FR_pezjdxqXjm82NhBExPZ6YJhYcNF2Ir_QG73IsnrBmoTqv5YyoibMNjaqz6kgJ/s1600-h/PANO_20130625_114931%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130625_114931" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130625_114931" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVYrLqM-bnKnAQ8MBKbzAlUJOvMLI3tjccetrKtMDU6eo7wEXNe82sawTT_baOBgkibuCmgx5yPhXZ-C8XPIXlwe7PadRUuy-aT_m6N9lJT62UE2yNXSz_wlRLcH9dZMbOO5AG8Uso7T0/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="281" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMX4xVEcvzr_xvu45x-EQ1W_mENkdNqHqXVnnbahitv_T7doloDr5Z68XhFK_GGc1GYed6yQXMzFNZks9kyUG1s_i25cop6JcsUGBbKnA-f7daK_hQXCpQaMIepcvuTkUBa7YWNWHkIsAs/s1600-h/PANO_20130625_115041%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130625_115041" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130625_115041" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4y4zb7vpUlOiP28OQZEQLayqLxsv-xzV1ruXvTUh3sz-s0SdvQuvpMAwhEAYthDuLmTSvk5Dqj9k05Ic3vhBJOdE_tiNotiokXx3O-_GEa1e5AFRb8_s57IGsr0YNPtB7KjNdcighB7rZ/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="228" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSkpUqiLvlJoP4k9CY1qoJOQvXOdi_UD-e5gDk2IvENzdyd2axhU8xYNRITPUj3KAlFJRpSuwjTtLy5c3c7ytv0_a3Wc8D0ew3v96CgLygdPm4gYSn3J824ihCRGQUH9oMS5sznIRhzxM/s1600-h/PANO_20130625_115139%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130625_115139" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130625_115139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38VokxFmkLRUxYDsErwvKMMKgwYDvjBkxoYaXWDbLy4Wt3sEtJk0E6WfZeYjXZ0w6IMNUVjtHDSSDHPgqlTQKepkt1JLIrRQP8yzfwJbg_ozFWM31yOVnxAXcRujunKwmEZVWTe-XDunB/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="279" /></a></p> <p>I would have stayed up there for hours if I could. I liked being up there so much that I no longer minded the rain anymore. To get back down to the old city area, a few different routes are available, which means more scenery going down…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8iWjttJEBfc_zVpxbSXxh0LL2OcLkyV75Z1A00eTVDJzARnUc8r5yfhwbWpqBuub8WMoZb-Oi-siUqBeLczfRmrubRVHLbGoK3CNMyok0tgQJdufvlKNbShm3tA6CRcQ6VWd-OjlxCvB/s1600-h/IMG_12311%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1231" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu9NFVnrnNFn34ZfdBNVExA5vOUwanFKVl1rpvI_3IRFLxXw0WBgp1Iylfzj3uY3wWQSQIyLbwvftRSNosdLjef1cUzlC8p5xGXAFJ8MmbCFGwwWqftlslpOXWOiQeK6GkYXczAlYfuOeo/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2MKr-fhqIEni1YJ0tPIC7ikYebfebeAS9BaAoB00no0xGDrFFeWMtGh5jsPIzHWwJPAGran09aoYEaW8XyqeDeaXwQQF6XGN7N9iuwfnqtK8PoBJJU7Yebfgxam5RgCsXXkF1MzBsDDQT/s1600-h/IMG_12321%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1232" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgskxL1-PMjkvxUiQakwO_uVrXCULR5f9or3bbM7Nyg3tZQ3uNwkDIu4uAezPFek3Csc1f7zkZKQUM2jRwhNsyto-pUMj-Sk_tbZ_93GavQYppBfIkHGAPeUj7cFGzTA3ZNfhTs2I6shaAm/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… before touching ground level again.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMrrumxQhOPshPh_s0xorO2fPdMKcVoLR6fIZHMYlyqqcvTsuNDNv3_MTbypulLkIXi_usKzgm-4h4UPN2YonA1o1cjfwULQSCXMqKEsIhOImByQRIeeCHRm_iSogEerPYgy5L9YESfcj8/s1600-h/IMG_20130625_122839%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130625_122839" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130625_122839" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFP-JMb0OadWWBDUCFiTWmCdLd4iRMRDD8CRucLOK0-Wr7tHIcMaHQzRvaXyC4JeTKy4P7G9ZZOI_q3wvcXZDvPC-CyP9mXAVARJb9ICvQkbeLCb381QYaRkC-CKT9eBo1vRpLF4iiJvR5/?imgmax=800" width="175" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Having a couple of hours before the train’s departure, we knew we need to grab some lunch before taking the 4 hours ride. So, that Cafe Sacher from earlier?… well, yes. That would be it. Decided to have a light meal, and have the day’s primary meal later on in Stuttgart. The reason for this decision was driven mostly by the knowledge that Cafe Sacher specializes in desserts of all sorts, and partly by realizing that Salzburg’s Cafe Sacher ranks #6 in all of Salzburg according to <em>TripAdvisor</em>, with raving reviews.</p> <p>Indeed, it was brilliant. Soup to start, followed by a superb slice of cake and (of course) another cappuccino. The place’s atmosphere is just so warm, cozy and inviting that, once in, you really don’t want to leave. Same recommendation here: go there, it’s pricy but completely worth it.</p> <p>A quick walk back to the hotel…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOxLQVxVT7UypxQQx6PU7oeJeTzf15LODe0s13MlM6GayunPf6exAVRchRfNRq1__18K1ekz0ShpjTTDwwBKTHbSNNe8EgVo29rPHBAiXdnuXH-fnOjhVjGX1Z0dub-nYfmUD7SKcxe0d/s1600-h/IMG_12341%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1234" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGTyHxpOLfipQ93aLMzKBJ5hxorC5s5cxm6bz00rnD3L2SbZlZLCPKHTKNerjpTKDguoHVKFMw1UEQprxIhqO_WLChypumTtwT5-n1ldYsiVGhWJXPbsNsv7SpNiVuW4pc0xo-21OOIX7o/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… grabbed the luggage, and off to the train station.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuLe-tTTjf-fUjBIb40ezqLksaOUBk-qTU6PDPwH4kyoF0FZcjLzd6rC-nGN2MB8G9hNaL_tu29ILvUEBCXvMlagA-CWwsUUJRPBuwLadsS-5EJ3cfdHdoXUKZNp0sk5CwMkQzSxlbN51c/s1600-h/PANO_20130625_133030%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130625_133030" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130625_133030" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXjmiJk7zzgOzBcuZ4jkEmJmQ-T5K-kscKG7AIqGE0e8HVoVp-eRSdqzLBu6Mjqpp4cY2w2PF-aHG19cqM1ahxhAeD__2skG_LD98BZzTqSca3lKI1tQ7GIutWGahyHVodAF1GTAyJzn7/?imgmax=800" width="225" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Spent some time in the ÖBB Lounge. Train arrived a few minutes past schedule. Goodbye Salzburg—it’s been fun and I will certainly visit again.</p> <p>Off to Stuttgart on board the EuroCity train—this one’s 1<sup>st</sup> class cabin having seats that can roll out into beds. Didn’t use this feature, but it’s nice to know that it exists.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFv8LvLW87kQymD_pCJskRaBrm4pSEC3VS8dXriDZhRMkQqxcCynDJY6npFaCcR7E_U15sF8HL74OVJdxoeAL8z41oP0xKOSzNXEByebQMHwFMUl-RcunLfDznHDInARuL5s0vPwIoAw3i/s1600-h/IMG_12371%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1237" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZkbX07ZkB5OJpifP-JRVFuEEsM7VsdvjsjgZUBmhD7lmhmn9GuZlg-U9eDnd6hkhOCJpd8lzH_jP10mrg3BL21BualXHYNzslsec6J890qm1Lud-0LSCpvXWCw7Lo8acdY0nNRaLlQwt2/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Spend the time on the train revising the hotel plans for the night. Found a better hotel than the one originally booked—more expensive, but closer to the railway station and including Wi‐Fi.</p> <hr /> <p>I have been to Stuttgart once before in my life, <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/06/concert-day-hanns-martin-schleyer-halle.html">during the 2010 Get Lucky tour</a>. I remember it being a pretty, cool city. Later on in the tour, I’ll be spending two nights here which should be enough to cover some of what it has to offer—which is good, because weather sort of sucked as we arrived at Stuttgart’s central railway station shortly after 6:00pm.</p> <p>Stuttgart’s central railway station—which is currently under construction for expansion—is located right at the city’s center. From there, it’s about five minutes walk to our hotel for the night—<a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g187291-d232579-Reviews-Pflieger_Hotel_Stuttgart-Stuttgart_Baden_Wurttemberg.html">Hotel Pflieger</a>, a small yet functional and proper hotel. Checked in and off to see some of the city center, with the intention to eat.</p> <p>Just before leaving the premises, I decided it might be a good idea to ask the receptionist what would constitute a “local dish” in Stuttgart, and where would be a proper location to acquire such dish. The receptionist’s eyes appeared to be lit with the bright light of a thousand suns as she uttered a word in German that I couldn’t make any sense of and later figured it was <em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maultasche">Maultasche</a></em>. Another dish mentioned was <em><a href="http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zwiebelrostbraten">Zwiebelrostbraten</a></em> (good luck pronouncing either of these), as well as a very solid recommendation about where to get access to such alleged delicacies.</p> <p>Two kilometers walk (in the rain) later, we arrived at the location: <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g187291-d1899643-Reviews-Weinstube_Zur_Kiste-Stuttgart_Baden_Wurttemberg.html">Weinstube Zur Kiste</a>. According to the hotel’s receptionist, the cooks who were cooking the food in this place have been there for the last 43 years, and all food was fresh, home made… well, you get my point. That’s the sort of place you’d like to go to.</p> <p>Opened the door. So, this place was as “pure” German dining experience as it could possibly get. Essentially, this is a residential house that, at some point, was converted to be a combination of a restaurant and a bar. Very crowded: unless you reserve in advance, you are very likely to share a table with complete strangers. But you know what? for whatever reason—perhaps I was in a good mood after the fantastic Salzburg experience—I didn’t care at all. I <em>wanted</em> that German dining experience.</p> <p>For once, I was willing to let go of my deep desire to personal space. If this place offers proper, true German dining experience, then bring it on—I’ll give it my best shot. Waited about 10 minutes or so for two spots to be vacated, and sat down next to complete strangers, in the upper floor right next to the kitchen. The room we were all in was definitely a bedroom in the house’s previous life: it was small and and could contain up to about 14–15 people sitting one next to each other. Very friendly atmosphere, not at all intimidating despite the crowdedness.</p> <p>One Maultasche and one Zwiebelrostbraten ordered, with the intention to share those. And, for the first time in <em>a while</em>, I asked for beer. A small, 0.3L glass. Praise the Lord, for the stuck‐up snob decided to join the common people.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnAb-tdvK-O6L2phxUl87Ni2xrWsgjDg8oNA7FOap6f7r3uKgNrF4G6NeELjhplVHeZ0KAw-KiZfWCNEUR6-PNTprjLYMd1rhAKdkKrblTwX7Hp8faX-Q1jJYjaK8XURXnrG673jZVVnZ/s1600-h/IMG_12401%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1240" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsq9MLPye0KmYA3g63I_aoHGKc5wAUpz1In2g14Su-j5EX7tlaK3kZZFJDATZK0QiIPZg_vaoqtqVr_odbJ3zgTJpm6wls6X-Rsj7FOyyQdlwJEFmFhi0ZwJNACyRQdIc1f6NOWC2AOTYw/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Big plates, delicious food. Couldn’t ask for more. What’s puzzling is, that if it wasn’t for the receptionist at the hotel, I’d probably never find out about this place. Note to self: ask the locals.</p> <p>Arrived back to the hotel at around 9:00pm. Early, but really, with this rain, there isn’t much to do. Better end this day on a high note, I thought. Shoes off, laptop plugged in and stayed awake very late to catch up with things, chat for a bit and write this pathetic blog entry—not necessarily in that order.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Paris. Arrived here at around 1:30pm. Will upload this and immediately head out—weather is perfect for a stroll outside this beautiful, fantastic city.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-11299940828505280532013-06-25T16:00:00.001-07:002013-09-10T01:37:13.018-07:00Budapest, Hungary to Bratislava, Slovakia to Salzburg, Austria (June 23–24, 2013)<p>The Budapest hotel located where it was, it was decided to have breakfast at the hotel despite its ridiculous breakfast charge (€10 per person. More expensive than breakfasts I had in certain hotels in western Europe). The central railway station area in Budapest does not service well any of the five senses, which went to demotivate me from even considering looking for a breakfast place.</p> <p>As our room was booked without the breakfast “privilege”, we were told, upon check in, that we’d need to go through reception and notify them of our breakfast plans before heading to the dining room—which is what we did. However, arriving to the reception in the morning, the reception’s staff was occupied handling all sorts of requests and bequests from other guests.</p> <p>Looked at the clock (well, not really a clock. My Android phone’s clock app). It was ticking.</p> <p>“Hurry up”, I didn’t say.</p> <p>They didn’t hurry up, most likely because I didn’t really say anything. So, I decided to try getting into the dining room and telling the attendant there to charge the damn breakfast to the room. That should be possible in any normal hotel.</p> <p>But no, not here. The lady here needs a small ticket that you can get from reception. Without this ticket, you may as well starve to oblivion.</p> <p>A ticket.</p> <p>Felt somewhat like requiring a note from my parents the next day after missing class in third grade.</p> <p>Well, she got the ticket alright. What did I get in return? a breakfast not worth the ticket allowing me into the Royal Breakfast Pavilion.</p> <p>Ah, whatever. My second visit in Budapest: the first one ended with me being sick to my stomach for almost a week, so I suppose this visit was a step up in the ladder of joy. Settled the hotel’s bill and off to the central railway station, happy to be heading off to a place that would (hopefully) make more sense.</p> <p>Boarded the 1<sup>st</sup> class cabin of the EuroCity train. These EuroCity trains are regular‐speed trains, usually old, and the 1<sup>st</sup> class cabins there (on routes that actually offer 1<sup>st</sup> class cabins) leave much to be desired if you’re used to the 1<sup>st</sup> class cabins of the more modern high‐speed trains. It’s very common for cabins in these trains to consist of compartments, rather than the traditional row‐based seating layout: each such compartment is basically its own little room, offering six seats. Some like it (Jeroen does), some don’t (that would be me).</p> <p>With us in the cabin, there were two mature men who didn’t quite seem to be travelling together. The older one kept pestering the other with facts about places along the way, which didn’t quite trigger any sort of appreciation by the receiving end.</p> <p>The train ride from Budapest to Bratislava is scenic, showing old, modest houses on lush green hills. Old signs saying things in languages I can’t make sense of, I didn’t quite know when it was when the train left Hungary and entered Slovakia. What I did know, however, was that my SIM card doesn’t provide discounted data roaming in Slovakia, so I was careful enough to turn data connectivity off while my phone was still connected to a Hungarian mobile carrier.</p> <p>Finally, about three hours after leaving Budapest, arrived at Bratislava’s central railway station. Welcome to yet another country and another city that I had never been to before.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJ9M1azrek4_kHxhSlaG44dkbptXkt35JCcgWMF3TJnQrFenayDkloO3cDAt26gvLN3hieK2-2mQuCvDSx66recPsLmEIdPncQN4XEoTqhlAdjkoKF6S1Xkb9G3Ko7EUD5sV2ykDpwTSu/s1600-h/IMG_11161%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1116" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRFndDfjvgyWf49wUKWKs4X3vYdEYIuapz9vlVAHTntjpXfftmVYG3C8QJMXWMOjYpLy25zbcoH_3MNlbjx4KJCCcCKqFA78gZYEJw5dFBriaHD_Bk9_q8wCYLz5vqdY57mPdJZXnbrrVd/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <hr /> <p>The only context in which I heard about the city of Bratislava was when my father once went there on a trip with a few friends. That’s all I knew about this city: it’s name. Plus, of course, the fact that it was the capital of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slovakia">Slovakia</a> since <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Czechoslovakia">Czechoslovakia</a> peacefully <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dissolution_of_Czechoslovakia">dissolved</a> into two separate countries—<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Czech_Republic">Czech Republic</a> and Slovakia—on January 1, 1993 (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prague">Prague</a> was the capital of Czechoslovakia, and remained as the Czech Republic’s capital after the dissolution).</p> <p><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bratislava">Bratislava</a>, then, is Slovakia’s capital and largest city. It dates back to 200 BC (!) and changed hands many times since. Who has ruled this place since Europeans decided that they were in the habit of declaring wars on one another? better ask who hasn’t. Reading about this city’s history in Wikipedia, I lost my way around within minutes.</p> <p>It was a Sunday, and as such, the path from the central railway station to the hotel—about 1km—seemed to be rather vacant of humans and vehicles. Frankly, the sights of that part of the city weren’t that lucrative—maybe not as borderline appalling as Budapest’s central railway station area, but still nothing that would make a typical tourist say “<em>this</em> is where I want to be”. Weather was more forgiving than the day before in Budapest: still very warm, but not hot enough to make you feel like peeling your own skin off.</p> <p>The hotel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g274924-d2549510-Reviews-Hotel_Saffron-Bratislava_Bratislava_Region.html">Hotel Saffron</a>, was located about a kilometer away from Bratislava’s old city area. You could easily spot it from the distance as it is adjacent to a building that is painted in saffron yellow, which, I am guessing, wasn’t a complete coincidence. A very good hotel for the price of around €70. Checked in and went for the elevators.</p> <div class="indented"> <p>One of the things I find interesting in this tour is encountering all sorts of oddities and peculiarities in how things work in different places. In particular, as I am staying in a different hotel almost every night, I find it astonishing that I need to get accustomed to small differences in the way hotels are designed. I know this may sound strange and trivial, but still. It fascinates me to see how differently different people can think and how they go about implementing solutions.</p> <p>So, in this hotel, there are two elevators. Usually, you’d just push the “up” or “down” button, and the system will decide which elevator to send over to you, based on all sorts of parameters (were you ever wondering what happens when you push the “up” or “down” button in an elevator? that is, how does the system decide which elevator to send over? I know I did. There are actually a few ways that elevator designers can go about implementing this, but <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elevator#The_elevator_algorithm">the basic approach is the one that is implemented the most</a>). Here, though, each elevator had its own “up” and “down” buttons. If you wanted to be sure you get to your destination the fastest, you had no choice but pressing both buttons and see what happens.</p> <p>If everyone is “greedy” (that is, pushing buttons for all elevators), the average waiting time (for all hotel guests) is expected to increase.</p> <p>Someone actually <em>designed this and thought it’s a great idea</em>.</p> <p>Why are some people stupid?</p> </div> <hr /> <p>Stuff unloaded in the room. It was early, which left ample time to explore Bratislava’s old city area, about a kilometer away.</p> <p>On my way, I saw this sign:</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimZ9cA2ch_6lOfuCc8Uo81XV-VssKpuigakeTqd16ne5Vogql7zmwAfYUe-QXaIkuTWTXu8Tegg8xpc7jJLDVb7JQJkTefp5T35aikk5hdRa_vIOm7ZE08tW-qzkjgF6vYtNwhwJLT_UoJ/s1600-h/IMG_20130623_134838.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130623_134838" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130623_134838" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRr6Yy2LYqzQtucjvbKv-hVX9LXmwS7jdpS2IDCp7hUetqJbKBgjI63rBI0r0zItQ2yCouX-7rZk_Qhs7geS51SczYjVtEj22KA6Hj1E0tKcx0ImeNt79e970SUHVB6YoAUGW7FRxdkYkv/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>This club hones your English skills to deal with real life situations. That’s quite the unique value proposition over all other language schools, which cater to prepare the student to deal with imaginary life situations.</p> <p>A quick search in <em>TripAdvisor</em> suggested a place by the bombastic name of <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g274924-d1852609-Reviews-Bratislavsky_mestiansky_pivovar-Bratislava_Bratislava_Region.html">Bratislavský Meštiansky Pivovar</a>. As of this writing, this place is ranked #6 in <em>TripAdvisor</em>, and for a very good reason. Interesting Slovakian dishes in the menu, tough to choose. Smoked meat dumplings with sauerkraut and sour cream—delicious. Full meal for two for under €20. I’m sold. Go there.</p> <p>From the restaurant towards the old city area, the scenery gradually becomes more interesting.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyuPPmU8eYEqUdhfPwWyQnmWhh4uSoAcyJ-fTaBHe0LeYYxkjvTU1n_4zCHWQ77_TXOtFAjf3mO0jX9I2UfOMMGMSjhvqKtbLCySiq_sTukhOwObuY9uKs8Z0ED46ZVhWCcN6SGzN1wyjJ/s1600-h/IMG_20130623_144258.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130623_144258" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130623_144258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCj5KIjPmLCRcVnCGJf9J_RKRku4Sq1zqz930HYzRKlkjy1Z4kpiC9oDZ9llEIH1sQ_wYQKB5K-bwnUzYG3nPHlJkFNLEY4Bk0rnwrkF7KGv9fdXD5Lz4Opq0WQsQOTE92wmbaa8VnF07/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMathw7G_X27iW0Xe6Fqa0qq3xJgTRq0CDhxrh0Aach5P6G6aVHKmX9UKjdLvXHuhksCVyWsiOWlRjHs5Bsdh4s6reAmKIct8y0IpGvcS-ZbXPy-0zBL6vnbmU5hawHR3mGJnoNiUUzOec/s1600-h/IMG_11171%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1117" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1117" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMN0rgs2-7pCIol-czaQ7GZbAq0pWeogQ-OfVjr3uCdmOsXqEQe9qPFNUsmUfqKxHhQRN-FR6KEsvDCoQgIyroYfXb05nctVtVZ0e5WvhZ4EQHvFm0J-TqHs_wEsxAswLIKVnXtJUMi4DZ/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Then, a short passage leads you to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Town,_Bratislava">old city area</a>, which is where things become <em>really</em> beautiful. Nearly every moment walking through Bratislava’s old city is a postcard moment. Nothing here is too grandiose, and still, prettiness is all around. Many pictures were taken, and very few of them will be filtered out.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkrewe_l30EULzPquaJ9fjnrTaqhJzXnPLdJyV2ehY0rViVUx6e2kWXlw9Y9n2jQR2bosIRdle4i15uWWebKajflzeeMsU6KgzPYT6Ht58XK3yw3x-mzn5lF5d4EAuai6__A-kiGcCqYDg/s1600-h/IMG_20130623_144403.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130623_144403" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130623_144403" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOHsecF0ewbOwdJiXXu8FQZ1VqXfho0kTw3t9fF9HCWuydKlr3RWZ01MrJestTTCNdfknJT8kInp_sQE491xHHDOyocqb9N5yyqoakHf8_pi-vfLSwVlYdQ9O8icbw8y4QibM8XmMV6Ayx/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXmyqwLH3FxSGzMJPmXRNAZj13H_MFCMEZR-sZThoGnmFsbIxjqe6ySaZ6VQpbrTzZ76MWRXbJ5_Z711ILaIMeVgwa1VfzdKVDEyh4ufQQ32En7ZaFBLEQRXoRrZSEuGV_3jzkhxyiBB3C/s1600-h/PANO_20130623_144519%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130623_144519" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130623_144519" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJn62Ne8FYeaYDOL74wN_HIQvUhoQSfExD2DVVkXyn-7iNE6o7unBbs5YKZAHEqxru1nXR55wQUuidokdyAMq9XkOipg0sgotOThDSkifM0RE1l7yApBebNbC0yc75WpwUcm4tJN9oEfGh/?imgmax=800" width="188" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil0TK9_GOKkZX0sZTkMHbfxcZRHE0Q7e7anIyvtX4xXMRN2O9C5-mnKeLN065IdJ_ipCkAo1uvBIRNmN9vJ-3eD-J69_o1GW2gBnVy57AuJezL1C1ZmjIKmswjg8uYPbMmTiDBJaKG5B-G/s1600-h/IMG_11211%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1121" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8BcYAGpRyl7llN5xVVcKp2vdacuoicpg1jpTSWtpOzMJFErCEJSBdDJTg0KouhyTdwphMZui-z7g4dQ-ddEsIPmkUoZoTbizgiKpeB6ZuCumrRq3PbaXBPRn9yt55K5rtiF74xr3b672/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQIXOnoTDJ_aqsPKyZ9AdYkZ6SO9misgoXbAndtip28OqmHtANw8IgDTLw0eeuFIbDD68PfmLTSk1QM2wCnyAHchyhbDHzb0yLkjZg5aeWWKmJtGBn4QYIdEzx1CAkgLqpVp72DCTH21B/s1600-h/IMG_20130623_145039.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130623_145039" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130623_145039" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYsOnbzQVmsW6IsqtlzkTqQ2aqilnBeaPlAqTaX8x_2D2kcAZsEErUkK73dEPyhnqYD0xCx4-H4f4HW6LcuxS-FMWwYbw6Qp_JabFO3LSFnvzxVjIqqkH8JSvb70NAC7qZf5QMW3p9rv1d/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyN6R_wqIta95LN4lDkghvcip-PronoLyYJRjF0tlisRNAGqzbHAOdJlTkBRy56k4rKeu3qfLurEE6H_Eg7Mqh6rNy9M4HR6O1kJsZF6iBXPYZMXpKx2HE-QgHyLVWgJ20RMpZz0J3wjzb/s1600-h/PANO_20130623_144843%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130623_144843" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130623_144843" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJiiFv-Ej9M9ijkXTkGH_RLwvMzmagMJLjVVKqWLHObq1r40jB0nfs3_tSj_VcWDnVhooQhnrxdUfm4szqHFFnSXebVo_5TIc7VX5eVXWFOhAcrxPi7Q6zqYRyfZIwVWqbyXchPiFbYNf/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="275" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtp3wr0KgEsUXDiQekPJYpJCaH6ZSC-0mvdG4RCi0ZlpKHMFZgxUUWkMTK2YFkGPSwfH08Cbzz79kKwr6EAwTxyrbC-mb-HFLmscpEf2ZH2gBCZYIQ_fi-BpffBTV_9sccsXurwYICmgTc/s1600-h/PANO_20130623_144928%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130623_144928" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130623_144928" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie_1N4_9uKHvjXYP5KEeZqcoc8Bv0PkK0p9zrLrCTo5IrVtdFrjDBGFIXxPj7t8A-tbHI5_A5ZNkwgSGVRwghCg2WCuEELdayHB6oVajO_CzZprkCzGdBehuZkNnFx_xZmXid_AVjSWSE_/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="227" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwv31c8slBqReP-ZPdmHnIlEnl8OyA6AqMndEmPHpwWcHdR_wZYgpQZNztMU1iq7b7Y1JYeH0TgxexlT0GjuxNFc1thqPV6KLeuq1y6wRVNFGEpXrHWHgjPlO4Q1LYiJ096rGTzcG1m1jD/s1600-h/IMG_11221%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1122" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2cdYZZ18Q6E9klAbNEtwdhzsDqkqZag4ABc9obXglMzCwa9FGI8_wmbPVlxv5HFSZ9rsO82Pum2cg0LAY__avYh3OTQEZ6YXYaJn1SzSTtSF1rSFAyvFEictaVaKr0z8sKEoeCXc4Jdvb/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzbhijqu-SYhofrWf-iVIs9Cjz_V5I7dXKLbNwdPTj3QWJd9fCSaD7stOwPN9xvZdcn0xf09cylmxqndl_jnRmbhfRnSU-AFt9i0wjeE_uKicxFQYwRFioz_AztnTy2G14xTTe0NNZOA94/s1600-h/PANO_20130623_145133%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130623_145133" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130623_145133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2MkQCHBQ7FsB5FFpyCFeM47GhGkjjQqK5BZUGf4QbUYYHIyvKhasca2GC492dKSAVHpvQv5kUeumAG33oPg3nbuBK76maihVJyMk2kji8bM-hoFeSJ_-Wl4ltqcSynFrLkQa0eQloP3D/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="359" /></a></p> <p>You could understand, then, why Bratislava’s old city area is the focal point of tourism in this city. Restaurants, cafes… you name it, it’s there; and for westerners, this place offers great deal for the money: things here cost more than they would in the non‐touristic parts of the city, but still low when compared to touristic areas in western Europe.</p> <p>Walking down the path, arrived at the old city’s <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hlavn%C3%A9_n%C3%A1mestie_(Bratislava)">Hlavné Námestie</a>, which means “main square”. Eventually, most tourists end up finding themselves hanging around this square, taking photographs of themselves ruining otherwise postcard‐perfect buildings.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtYRAkqFQ6qzMfq4n9sBLW4-ofmcGhv6nKavlyyeFC_c1FiAwRPDM31y89zk3yj6FnfgNL28BPYjIkD4zdQ0lB-c6VdGwgS104GnHt6E6S6arODeih3j6MjyItBMETL3N6XwrX5uz2PeGl/s1600-h/PANO_20130623_145425%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130623_145425" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130623_145425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqnrHcGQPZXJfIt5uAUJjGhdGd6T-zK6KUAGWR40LHq_2CJ2qa5pz2CVKStBOvi3eYAD9MbVlFi6TFRRkEdv6uM3iEeqqzKw2FoV5lUbrCbs8uYRHz9cnovnQpO_Dfb070R517BRB7lmb9/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="361" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gif2k_e8dou5z_vbbpXST0cnKZeLx0Ard3Sbu-5fCIHlJRk05c3-C-meEJsEkqYM1AFr_o0eOxrbZuMPiRHQsB4w9S8CKsXLpt-cA8rXF3fyjPLD7WW7tIuF8JhumEcDIhOhVK7v5hQJ/s1600-h/PANO_20130623_145540%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130623_145540" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130623_145540" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6EWhF1bx5GpcQl-rDsx90O6HBm8IIixkzWTaAEmN7Y6LAwavgg_ezw0akNh-cK1kQ6lQzUswmkY90mzl1XikNOUr_IidJKAIfjNiyBo4F5ma4PBrRraVf0F1OYQlvRc3Hp94ihPF432g_/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="178" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3bOsk9nNCCXPYRLiZsTPoHT3Zp8vwDe-PJrni17N-7bt7K29AsNq0p_uDr1HoxAX6JCfpoqOSVLm40ke2U421tercwWKKPZECWbXD1R-jX38CHONdbJFavnpuJ3CrpIW1KLCgTq7oZZPP/s1600-h/PANO_20130623_145820%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130623_145820" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130623_145820" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbniocq6bBdr1lwxZB4BQ81KMqIn9OIC4b46tJEdE_eX5PdwaiDt8dDYfjFqWLqpKPeNsjULEsTnQjSGahqsYNK2-8PWKsBEdb5lptyBOHmw6C1tBzceY2AGUZnAT-3_XEZsZsSzmsHj4h/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="219" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9gHpTsW6lnxIhp9G9RlbjuwE_nyTx7sPISxyuTD9EkN5QfOQdgk4d2Z2dTJF3wFXM2ERerP1mu51sMVPsQ51tOKK2k7V7PNTUI89iI7atVJ9Msk429Q46ZYGK1_gQFXhwSaZIxh7LuIt/s1600-h/IMG_20130623_145735.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130623_145735" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130623_145735" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjowwzQvMjlqKFMW7FiKwQVMTPGjVBr88tS4FF5Eze2gs5gXH1t3UDP8xUzUFhdVMmpoKB7slwa3ynOR7qz3PmDR86IhKd8PfOKUnvej4NfBxg7FR3aApfHAeRqL0aVTPmUUmMEbn8kakP8/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyen7FKJbDFE-0Sd5H3g9q3F_fTY87krvsgnWA1Yiu1O4iLFBCOC9ek-WWOVfal8tnvQke75exArBcMaio6ILa1wtrSd2T3G2NIV98IHuSAV0f_ALD75EcnPAQGVqoC_1skRhsF5F9URb1/s1600-h/IMG_11231%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1123" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1123" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU6F4wWCeBfnNaTQtVzKGBpOPk4BmqzG5IdFDv3BBcnqx0krYv5MWnP3xUw8CjoqJSZP21Jfh19eMt-gLdg6tGBPTaNhy2OPV76CmtG1CK6RDFfNoCnTQbXY_ls4nrXngEpmwP1x9Pi2jF/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A short walk to the south, there’s the Danube again. Seems like everywhere I go in this tour, the Danube is lurking somewhere.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsATqcY54IxL-UL3BwAQ4wFnx6WAsQkVQETzT1F13fUD6Mqjn9WjTxXvjrWS8u9dTGCL1VzrANJCGC2Aw1Uuok17oMS5udfbnttXygd1K4fUOWDifKtCIxbf_3oOfpaLEzPW-CvvQrmaIV/s1600-h/IMG_20130623_151258.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130623_151258" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130623_151258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJyL6ICTc242sND5Gktisb2OCD0uUQYQaWue-Ez4-f80nwBYuRsaFIk3azDlHorOtUlQCfj_DC9UdlSDPctRoxl4Hurk68IHKGZl_nk-fDfqoxdZtXfv22OKN8AHhEc9zfXK0NJhFmUZD4/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXFW3VUAlIHW-kjic3-2ceTtON29P5csZxstSsu2pRI9jUMTrCdDYz2Gz81eDh4gDF-hjEYhtT7lUp4O27b9I6NSyYAvG7AEcUUDvVT38j-GDwlNNehXxx-1vsUsDn8R2dm-6-j8dGo1M/s1600-h/IMG_11311%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1131" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPKVDjeD2j-RE5mhmnPbspVCUeKOKX2lvDEGGidiPoTYFPhooqV6vec9ZLlvpbSJDKfgWKw2fwi2pSlbf00lFazZXKIZ3rzg8fVm6Z8uMxOIDB-n5DPhSr_9m7CWwwnOVKSEMkq1K3Dyn0/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Very clearly visible from both banks of the Danube is the pylon of the <em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nov%C3%BD_Most">Most Slovenského národného povstania</a></em> (meaning: “Bridge of the Slovak National Uprising”), simply referred to as <em>Nový most</em> (meaning: “New Bridge”).</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvjCrsxwjLHJaCVr8VDvTNcVhRxVu-GPDVt4CHHs2g1uON54YlvqnmqsgWK-s_pvvWgk1AsUzZDDj-IQF4zNBVoFhiooN-lcvyeFZH3ZhF3Q47ZDAZqpjoAw-MIUqp60ZdfLdj-nAWoxDo/s1600-h/IMG_11301%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1130" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM_fUOSxse5_D_MWHzfkCrVlLimUAuASqm8tLV_pDeNpYw-NtoKMKAtcAEy_XazJm-8sdEWwO_enmuUWj2U9JdS5QUldfzQDYFMLs6N8GCRz2SYqDXnGmBssJAnjORQt0_S55tADRveMbH/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2sqDSYqfrMDFjlTNZcd9VnwxwLKBzFjPvoxY0Iivi95x6VpgW9gL2jiho0bbW22ObVdqEIq3joqy56nBr8UirzScEohYS4D4MtrWE11uG2Crux4lmAeFuEcSPHFIjte9Fno997i4KfLVQ/s1600-h/IMG_11321%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1132" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjngt7wDaGUS67tfOJcN2bzY1UhghNB4CNM6cxb0Fak6UCEoMUkxOIJ7oRrapkMQ947saaiWbdgtw-bJol5RI5FItMdpDmpM8NTIgKUrEfYjhRdA-IrLuh0hyphenhyphenETDqK815YeNmqciN_sv7zj/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The bridge is known for the UFO‐shaped structure positioned upon the bridge’s pylon (there’s a restaurant inside). The bridge was built between 1967 and 1972; most of Bratislava’s Jewish quarter, as well as some of the old city’s historical walls, “had to be” demolished in order to create the road leading to that bridge from the old city.</p> <p>A short walk along the Danube…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOEfRdT1ksWuRzY4PM6nIKyZ4-V9eZZcGwwgxPM4rxkfstNTEvRAmgGNxqREBXSKCf-Ho3adyDRrxlexAAbiM2PFMWczmRFIOHN2xxzw2Db6wDk2L9KIqnGFuNghe3T8HWhyfLGwWNudsR/s1600-h/IMG_11341%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1134" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ab0aH_BeMlpRyAx2eXEy5Kl6rprIETJLXiVaJqpGAyto1TcINDR7eGijAck7Dptxs52IU2Y7-P5WXKhQ_MHv2jFV9jTz1H7wqqgEvOIGzFJHsFSrIcK6Hz1z90msloZ-o02wLO_eidR9/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9O0-GGCbEytu0_dVvbOzTx-FByXY9RNrNFBoFQCSQltXXRpE65A2LJrMy_Kyg6Um-AkQkE1MTn2pu1piuXxHFm_vmJmtTu8lfROugDVidENBMBgzVxwYeW6SFpeuPELjUn46C9injJB8E/s1600-h/IMG_11351%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1135" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjUFUb_DaEdQRDJvvGjZrHne_2JW8xU5UD772S7BSYX3Qdmfo9ZXJuu60lyWpJ5iNxj8kjHrN-mQV3TKjrqgkZAYQaCujOPdsdwkiEfhDhA_N-1Dl44tCf9qGsw_gJ5wmLvEm4YrTLTNNu/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>… And back to the old city. A bazaar took place there, drawing tourists of all types, shapes and forms.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin0-34F0i_8Qdpl6itpsKPeN7gJdhafgrJIUv7H4xi-5FLDlsEdLJMOAUYJgMv9dQwanKem3Cshn0O_dtasT_XfP0i93vQeaIgIYH4Te1qBhcvn_cynu7M96s0HsnrcU9xzrBqySlHiuhq/s1600-h/PANO_20130623_150325%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130623_150325" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130623_150325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3e2FHP3X5_B1FBu77QnDKjAbrgvErbLSypSqFKhs_yNosuQ3lBNOgIzbLzH113EPULigMxTkqBt1AF5ugny0oIuAp4wSIQtQ7Slr0qf9nWxMrBWq-vF3tg3kHBpQ8QWBzIwhp8lDvmmn0/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="209" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1cLzDeq8LD9ngBYwaqxjXuWAI7VwjSMfp6Gvu9TLx1GWyzhGGBQWjVaV4KCExPTQWqAo9GkLNumTgNyyJbPQp1WR2t8UrZ30tB8sGNJOHq9hrx9R_LP6H7o_tZTb9fjedw7XzVT-J0dee/s1600-h/PANO_20130623_153209%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130623_153209" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130623_153209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNzOwkHBbzE29rO6smeSPbSBdn04dh4gwRrk1i1CJ-lixZnm-qOm4-USb5-fwBqXaNJsi4kEBujesZso6PrrMFNZTcT7OlR5ZgdpybVSb4J1sdih6-VN1HRFxtMAs4eO-t-IcYiSONYavD/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="174" /></a></p> <p>Perfect afternoon, walking around a beautiful city. Sipped some coffee in a local coffee shop, then headed back to the hotel (see the saffron‐coloured building in the following picture).</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQCJsUtJ3zlvCzfW5KDNcl8f9nhrHffXLKZhJQDeBYwO48U0y_NxdhI0YUrRfyl-vhgNUjwCeXwSOe35WOJYVsAv3Kzxe6Hvu0WcoM2dyKEYvpswNIQCmFaIj0aKHmX1iZTHRwcQarZyP3/s1600-h/IMG_11381%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1138" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM3G8UnkgyrZ_ZVvzEutdN71HjREwxWC5_FEp-TUSrRL2Hx1GeI93lj9uKNp7ImBUnvspvK_b5gfbjujKCWkMQaPoWCK08L33eyyizJjPNlO2ur6XGAv6meScA8mmWy0HmwLA1Z7qrQkW-/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The concert venue was located about 2km away from the hotel, which called for careful planning of when to leave the hotel, where and when to have dinner (it was a Sunday, which made things a bit more problematic in that regards)… the usual concert attendance planning routine which became second nature here (one of the things I learned the hard way is to never go to a concert when I’m hungry, or in the likelihood of becoming hungry during the concert. I can’t enjoy anything on an empty stomach).</p> <p>Somehow Jeroen dug up a place called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g274924-d2725585-Reviews-Cafe_Estremo-Bratislava_Bratislava_Region.html">Cafe Estremo</a>, on the way to the venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAW-BjkJV8EJWlC6AqyPaJkWBLeDNT71c8YIhDGEbyeM_dL2NHeqnIXh7YJYmh_zdkuOwdINQ7nhvRbz9gaB-cY7wpRuOwaI3zelUlVmVXHASeEn31j4FW5FUAxpgcJmx9bFi3B6otbP5d/s1600-h/IMG_11391%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1139" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKyWFWg9LicvUVamdCzoXRgFvXzGPxcX9rjUzqFe00sGd2pCk58MVtFf1WyPuD-GbXc5OBFHxmeusLRFK-zoekT7Nuzh831HsRZSj0kTf4QSykr2RrMOczG63OcQiqbgUxDnuZaBzRlioA/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Just like in Budapest’s case, I was getting ready to mock the Dutchman for his pick as this cafe is located in a rather uninviting location. Still, this place currently ranks #9 in Bratislava by <em>TripAdvisor</em> so there must be something to it… and there is. It’s an Italian restaurant offering absolutely fantastic food. Gnocchi in a sauce made of cream, walnuts and pears. Sounds screwed up, right? I know it does, which is precisely why I ordered it. It was all devoured before I knew it. Brilliant.</p> <p>No time for desserts; off to the venue, located about 10–15 minutes walk up the road.</p> <hr /> <p>The <a href="http://www.bratislavaguide.com/ntc">NTC Arena</a> (also called “Aegon Arena”) is actually a tennis arena (NTC stands for National Tennis Center), also hosting concerts. It’s a small venue, can seat very few thousands.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6W6BYS7D62lUa3FOY5TK6Y3GSM9kxwVNKsBdRtXw0oPgRE1EG1rnDDeMUhsdJBltqB-rKoZ0uhLXu-cr8sNvcJekQ-99066myaYxq0Zl6ZncNpeohvUYf0bq7W8V1vl7_AuUf1hyiWg4/s1600-h/IMG_11401%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1140" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHE0DnafLg5K1ClXPieNonKln0JWQaUx6g2YMC0d3-E-DNc5x2BGzgy2TPpVg2y08Qwv9eeqB0J5wKFnK1VnzrfigavwuZqi_518yKB_F42WYqmGDW3weBY8EM_hlUPorVK7kHcTp-_l_/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Ykz60MMhtFtcTGNjeQ5P7JnYxc51QDp8SzsQ778Ai7tPhFemoZzhczlF7mgUZfByvkNRpu2wHl2M_AYCpzIsxGX6zrpjq4Wh0wXDnbmhKA0FGebbk9VsNd031VRwet8KpnZbO1dCA7aI/s1600-h/IMG_11411%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1141" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJKZKQO3pd5JAkVLswd5Wyaq1cHbVzwkiCIne8Q0Js1mtGrn-Mta_h2c6wbUfqZgtJT1Fk29-cw_W76MpjTr7N2r_jqUHMyglfzujV74B_AsvbgR-P9tbhQSCix7u3gNs_a6q1QiFC6RtV/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>A good concert, fortunately featuring <em>Kingdom of Gold</em> which keeps getting better and better with (almost) each time it is being played.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXOjIYFFmBHMdPlNm0Iy3H8Lah6xO0_v86ObCLtOXvzn4dTkcAWY887tXeLZ65PNWKNtvxdZfZzSV2384c79l_k7gr3VtzwrmW-NDdXdwKtSMONp8TSoijP0Dy42fv9L5X99HekYo0ohB_/s1600-h/IMG_11451%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1145" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhLX5yJzCCNkrdWI4ixS8kNDkb0gplc-ook8uctNKW4bA6eHEOx205a0FSBhSe0lyGWVqVj7BullXngf-vu9uUJsS3FfLQ2Tai6N3Su7jx8sxMFceYWWCMNn8wHbQQLQh6lMNUrboTKnpS/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQu_mK0jM_g4DGq7Kf_nITwvFqz2p9I3bAMrZwIx38oOkLoROsQfhQs1QavL6pNQuCxdTA_6Lcez5ndZ550JBSrd5iuCvVrkIlNkIL85dONTfD_LCgfc6PapQ-TWdK4aoQtKeLpkMPNHX/s1600-h/IMG_11481%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1148" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQEFr1CDI9by5wT1I4YLAoZRIGAz5-_IagGWl5PNH6z669USGYtcGilHLjjV3c5yZF__QhZqo2EgnB-17-vnN-qlC65eKTP92FYIVlW5OHIem50YAE729__kZRDsroHccm8-n7lsKTB3Fx/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuw1aZMZ6zriC2JbTgMTA3Ig8vXZA_CwgXg8Uo4i8GyYrNVqUg-RtMTul98GcVGYWpnQlGxWTCk_koKgtk8ehmJgEnr-BbucsKAL2XVRcHAo-Q_rMua_LqQ74nb71-Q-yIvUNiekZojhwk/s1600-h/IMG_11521%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1152" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqQ5HiWxReRiQqam0fKJlEUYLlfnACYy8y6V0G-l1sDXwcZj7FPzBG7AUPaA8cAHvydKOMkBCu5SvpXRQHzr8rPOUyYQvNcQAsGxLnoVru4LCJNCg_2x-3LtD9uby0745tAFUHX89DrTta/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGLLTbBQ1rJUzMxpjPq_7NUA1XyCz1TJ9vtZZitO379-AVb10fiTCUUztJtQC0GjMC8nhoumam38Whge1MW1D1EAJ47fGj5-VUpZT2x8rHvojOtn0o29KktH4BFvdhNY0WUz4Vo_oBnfyq/s1600-h/IMG_11651%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1165" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigjNFsAq_mInVimhXt6sXkRil9Y3xFDiiQssn7lfEnSuzKCNuajcigzddq7iOjrLMSk5sW38mrfotVkPv3pD9ZyPIodendUHVW0VrpRnGWkArNn5t_Is3bFDpcKFbM-iArsXHpt3z-cqHH/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Out of the venue and a long walk back to the hotel.</p> <p>Was a very good day, actually. Short travel from Budapest, plenty of time to see a beautiful city, and a good concert to finish. Felt almost like a day off.</p> <hr /> <p>Monday: a new week. Early wakeup and breakfast at the hotel. The evening prior, we booked a taxi for the next morning, to take us to the central railway station: €5, saving us a kilometer worth of walk… no brainer. Sold.</p> <p>Train was scheduled to leave 9:42am. Taxi was booked for 9:15am, the ride to the train station is about 10 minutes. When it was 9:20am and the taxi didn’t show up, I started getting nervous and, once again, found myself questioning my belief in all living things. I have an extremely low level of tolerance towards people who aren’t too good with keeping time, especially when I depend on such people, for example, to catch trains.</p> <p>It did arrive, eventually. After taking all sorts of weird turns into side streets and whatnot—at times, I was sure that this driver didn’t quite know where he’s heading—the central railway station was at plain sight.</p> <p>Relief.</p> <p>The itinerary from Bratislava to Salzburg is tricky. From Bratislava, it’s a regional train to Vienna’s central railway station (<em>Wien Hauptbahnhof</em>). From there, one needs to take two underground lines in order to get to Vienna’s western railway station (<em>Wien Westbahnhof</em>), in order to catch the train from Vienna to Salzburg. As Vienna’s central railway station is still under construction (supposed to end in a couple of years), you need to walk about 10 minutes between the train’s platform to the underground… outside. And it was raining.</p> <p>Raining? yes, raining. After about a week of a horrendous heat wave in Europe, temperatures fell dramatically overnight. It felt weird to wear my red rain jacket again after spending about a week with the burning desire to peel my own skin off.</p> <p>Hopped on the underground, quick ride to the city center, then change to another line… and there’s <em>Wien Westbahnhof</em> again. Looks exactly the way it did a few days earlier. Nothing’s changed.</p> <p>As we arrived earlier than planned, we decided to ask whether we could take an earlier train to Salzburg than the one originally planned. Asked someone who initially appeared to be knowing anything, we got a strict “no”.</p> <p>Well, alright then. An hour to kill in this train station. Had lunch (to get it over with), and looked for a coffee place. Found a place called “Don’s Espresso Bar”, located inside the train station. From outside its glass door, it looked fabulous: everything that an espresso bar is supposed to have. Great decor, soothing dark colours… the works.</p> <p>Opened the door and almost choked to death. The entire place stunk up from cigarettes’ smoke. So, apparently, this place caters exclusively to those who are happy to smoke either actively or passively. Interesting concept.</p> <p>Fun in the train station didn’t end there. Found another coffee place, put the bags down and headed to the cashier. Asked what I want, I replied. Great. How much does it cost, I asked. Cashier points at a random direction and mumbles something in German.</p> <p>Whatever; I’ll sort it out with you later. Sat down waiting for the coffee to be ready. As it was ready, I went ahead to grab it, grabbed it, put it on the table and tried to pay again.</p> <p>“How can I pay?”, I asked a seemingly simple question, now for the second time.</p> <p>Again, fingers pointed at a random direction. Now, that got me a bit peeved. Look, dear: I really, <em>really</em> want to pay you. There’s money in my pocket that I worked <em>really hard</em> to save—penny to penny—just so I can gather it all up and pay you for the (hopefully) delicious cappuccino that you had just prepared for me and I’m <em>dying</em> to drink already.</p> <p>I WANT TO PAY YOU, TAKE MY MONEY.</p> <p>Again, a finger pointed at a certain direction. Then I noticed that she’s pointing at some guy who appeared to be picking things up from tables and taking orders. Well, fantastic: this is a sit‐down cafe, then? thanks for allowing me to place my own order at the cashier, then. How could I miss that?</p> <p>Of course, took a while to grab this dude’s attention—not surprising, as he was serving 900 tables at once. It was of the few times that I was actually happy to pay just so I could leave.</p> <p>Up to the platform and to ÖBB’s Lounge, fortunately accessible to us as first class passengers. Standing in line there, to be validated (you need to prove that you’re allowed access). The bloke currently getting service appears to fill the receptionist in with his entire life story. Clock is ticking, damn it, I just want to sit down and chill out from this noisy train station. Five… long… minutes, approved, yes, you may sit down, thanks. Bottle of water and it was already time to leave.</p> <p>Boarded the train and was happy to get that stress over with.</p> <p>(If you feel stressed after reading the last few paragraphs, then I’m happy. Means that I properly delivered an emotion. Hell, I got upset just re‐reading it.)</p> <hr /> <p>I’ve never been to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salzburg">Salzburg</a> before. I also didn’t know much about it until I got there. What I did know, however, is that many consider it to be a very pretty city. Because of that, the original plan was to stay in Salzburg during the day off after the concert, taking a night train to Paris—so I have enough time to explore this city.</p> <p>These plans were later scrapped as I decided that I’m over and done with sleeper trains for the remainder of my life.</p> <p>Arrived to Salzburg Monday afternoon, close to 4:00pm, due to some train delays (of course). Concert was scheduled to begin at 7:30pm, which meant almost no time at all to do anything in the city. That’s fine, though: plans were to leave Salzburg the next day (Tuesday; a day off) late, allowing for a few hours to explore the city the day after the concert.</p> <p>Camped at the hotel—the <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g190441-d1057242-Reviews-Ramada_Salzburg_City_Centre-Salzburg_Austrian_Alps.html">Ramada Salzburg City Center</a>—attached to the railway station. I was dead tired: power‐napped for an hour, woke up at 5:30pm and we headed out, hoping to get some good dinner before the show.</p> <p>Unfortunately, the restaurant we had in mind turned out closed. Even worse: that was the only proper restaurant on the path leading from the hotel to the venue, some 2km later. What do you do? of course, you backtrack and look for the first viable option.</p> <p>That was not a good thing to do. The first place turned up was a restaurant that belonged to a shady hotel. Serving Austrian, Italian and Indian food at once. Think about it for a second and tell me whether you think that such a restaurant can <em>ever</em> produce food that makes any sense. If you think it can, then I am smarter than you. It can’t, and it didn’t. Horrible expensive food. Ordered a “Parisian” schnitzel, which was allegedly based on turkey meat; got a sponge‐like substance that only remotely reminded me of turkey. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a happy turkey either.</p> <p>Disgusting.</p> <p>Off to the venue…</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVmjAa8ltSTl_0ct2JhXoVcJMzFLl2MvLgRku8YufRNAGkazmuuLqBGZTOPssmKOxjnJQdbdjlvVYSh4j8q22Pq3_yganH5qI2GH8j6QuXeffIzNBhBdaY81Kh-inI5tjeE-Xkr2clFB4j/s1600-h/IMG_11851%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1185" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTwFTvbntZUdhy9V1SlcD40cfpaXBYw1voRjohKGwEP5NoKXMkFr1LhLk0yqrd7vLkM6KXa2RP-xsdleSkgBLTvvuKlO10rvYLRnuYU5QBpPHV10N_qpSbmUSJZZkEJl8hLeIZr-I74yVh/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>It was raining—not an ideal situation to take photographs—but still, even by merely walking (fast) towards the venue, I could easily tell that Salzburg is an immensely pretty city. Was looking forward to the next day, to get some time to explore it.</p> <hr /> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCm0cq9FNNTCaCVX6f87APqYn8Trdm9d4jUnGgBBl0DpAQinenmD0di54EpSVqW4QJxRdjYwqFHgbct9BdktP915PaE3m1173C1yDUYeba6j_pO9Q4xY69idhXvFZv2cf7RJFeQirxQC4/s1600-h/IMG_11861%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1186" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYWn6-S1X2Ki9vk_djFagUsoL6IXtwBmv0VrQASX4YJKizEOtk6ZMhaqO7283s6cfyNyIxGSuTNYJf6ZA2TuFLo8fOceGbzmmX7rHS2viItucGLGxSOrCz860lvMz5Uwi7Q1HMZEeV-kG5/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The venue, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salzburgarena">Salzburgarena</a>, is a sporting arena also used for concerts, seating around 6,700. Pretty from the outside… nothing very special from the inside.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnAiLYr47zYR8SA-UyUIYN7b-uaFaQKnwL2fOU_d_Jm_PFfw7Cm6eq2N_sJlLw6O0U0YwsG6i7QItOdwYfNiVBVTxAqRnoHGv0wA2IzZ8Gt5c_wgvQj4Adb6Y_Awqc-Loq7Z8lCPFJ64Q/s1600-h/IMG_11871%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1187" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKHE7wVp5nWCOzfzpicM8qsw2lSMbzYBjc3Dx2rtCy9g5QqMcN7wQw1Ds731TyZitWvkjhNU1K7h0rvCDlC9u1ahNp4eE_-iWpEaU8SOANpmAQUZqNEvDK1aQ8Peocoiy02dYYI1AoNW7M/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>My friend Philipp from Switzerland made his way to this concert. Philipp is an amateur pilot, so he was planning on flying to Salzburg; however, due to the weather conditions, he had to change his plans so he drove instead. Six hours. Way to go for the tenacity and not giving up. Was good to see Philipp, as it always is.</p> <p>The concert was slated to begin 7:30pm, and it was the first time so far in this tour (that I can remember) that the concert <em>really started right on time</em>.</p> <p>Another good concert—<em>Kingdom of Gold</em> played again, that’s two nights in a row—and, for the first time this tour, the set consisted of less than 16 songs. A 15 songs set (dropping <em>Haul Away</em>), slightly under two hours. Encore played in front of a crowded standing audience in front of the stage. Good times.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTVxsYllbcBWrZNcLvknpGW1lU87CkzAmM91Y6ZVrb4EW5PXwshO6qoob65DEA18OzeXUH8v7gs2gI2KQrsJcEWzrj9B7uPg7z7srkIzBe7gIB-wUU1yTonx_sRPD5oLYgEAGNEEs6-6t4/s1600-h/IMG_11941%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1194" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2N5M8JUYR1pGrDZCPAqm3AxpGYJu3D-lC5oSCNTqCI3IKSzPBwDcxEU2kwPkornc-fTe9Hwnh1LlpETVUrPwbM8pTcwiuN_sSSItVOoOFI8DSzNfA00VAnW7HktwtdGC4i5L34k9UaU9/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYF3ia16LHXWMg8y-59cIN_cmn1gh7XO1xrkD-t46Zc29pItoqG_5GX7jllatlvVzRZZ805ctoiPjT-HCPTJAxMvEV-s1kPFDs034qSSkr_Z_t1WOQQDH1az8S9h24tvGFkvNqgzovNR7i/s1600-h/IMG_12031%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1203" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5i6KjSSF96uq8hHs0C7_OZYsOpgGkNdDBWRpieieIH2fXQAUBFwY-bxqCcRg4-NeUDfKoYyQ1jklwjEQIAUx8Ae9JFy3fsn57IgbGbWgFy30xpyXndoyP89nfCbLQmq8DXiATJITPromR/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ytMBesu-Z5RmzYGc4bzDs3P7FFlLdfywyFXnZ580LUXyzhEgIrn7w57WbK5jLcrXS1aSuDqFvc6WD8yjkUBF0ES9ytAl1qvFu8rTpvwWypMjTNWOjKJ4hQAHCu4u9BU8E0ZPJPpdGYiR/s1600-h/IMG_12061%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1206" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5XvqrOGdzJRH01_kQwmxcnXHOiuzsxW6WDCOwYMtyjQXcQf84m7NDsxGWjXN9bXQpYghmDJQyMH4VNzaaepgdNEQB8GRWpBJTNEG2UFmNwkENNrtRKjwMMqLmZ6UnN_jqPWIJQSh8mgzv/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAuNU4nXL89LXVq56CVJn8FrC95xE5ZMGwauIOwSYpuXw1mejd43bRSPQWD3FrN9k3yVCtDFMCVFUY1FM_WaGHpmU9IFhYTYECn44Y7jIdtpTvj60oH45tTS1VFPDbflc2ub6PB-dVRDhT/s1600-h/IMG_12121%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1212" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoqE0gMNe4JNkDoV_3TrePwsJzOT0d6FMqXff0HdXJkmAUv_xpv_MWaCKBSGutUOR9qNCYHPjTqNebahmRK4_zHo7FtSWZI0ts6A48L_fpJunE0aABDwtacg3nrBpFqTffuwQaYq27P9KA/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Concert ended; raining outside. Quick walk to Philipp’s hotel to pick up a battery charger he was so kind to lend to me for the next couple of weeks, then back to the Ramada for a bit of writing, work, catching up with things.</p> <p>Unfortunately, the Ramada’s internet connection was a total failure, which is why this post is so late.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Stuttgart, Germany. Brilliant day off today—details (and amazing photos) will be published in the next post. Tomorrow morning: heading to Paris.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3246251885422304880.post-44718737164705036532013-06-22T17:35:00.001-07:002013-09-10T01:35:17.703-07:00Vienna, Austria to Budapest, Hungary (June 22, 2013)<p>After two nights in the wonderful city of Vienna—which, unfortunately, I didn’t get much opportunity to explore due to the immense heat wave going on in Central Europe nowadays—it was time to decamp.</p> <p>Nowadays, with the ongoing pain I have in my right hand (I am right‐handed), it takes me longer to prepare in the morning. Due to some negligence on my part, I stayed asleep past the wake‐up time Jeroen and I had agreed upon, which meant that I had to prepare in a rush. Let me tell you this: it wasn’t fun at all. I think I over‐stressed my tired right‐hand wrist during the process, which caused some pain.</p> <p>Checked out and went to the tram station nearby.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM_LoyK80PuZU4LjcozvneIIo8PMyNAPQWflkcY3RM3Irkb_ghA4i80mOBRh102wIJrneUgw6SnaLYUieo_SngD4QDSF7mv4YK8uyCJh11RMaSOYP5IBlfj13GFsvTmFA8QftA75cFxI3u/s1600-h/IMG_20130622_090131.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130622_090131" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130622_090131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpqlxdrm1DUgM_FSI0bAPmU-GusvuGyET34EeGI4eiC998ovJYnpsK5LzFVx9041bk8hIN7FR-cnG52ca2__LkPelu1kh_WS9Z3vY2HJyPZ3_z2lDR1AuivIBGHHEjvlpQy6k41Nu3Drg8/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>Beautiful morning: sunny (of course), around 24℃—why can’t it always be like this?—and the roads were relatively peaceful as it was, after all, Saturday morning.</p> <p>Tram ride to <em>Wien Westbahnhof</em> takes less than ten minutes.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuzTzXs_8oD_CmHD7_T_Q9YLC810_0Olk_TqV1AbG8IoF3uneaDjS0EK97yX-pfsg9mjtBFSEPA9-cR4YbsHSLtsBXmu092adF3ZaOR2Dg4nE1B0-Qt0AouNYnzuG82pibjUn9CEnSK_G4/s1600-h/IMG_10771%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1077" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1077" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKsO5YxB2cR1VTmRF6ufWfAPZGSN85gLdBJat_-eyMSXK5V2RZZXamD5a20B1C-XJ_iQfJUg-LzdTRhrmY6bzJwxjF_wgHyZ73zkx-3npiRGJZtU1hPwzGs2x26QWgBiw11to5GoAwrTHs/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>On to the station for the usual routine of buying enough food to keep us going until the travel for the day is over. Two sandwiches from Le Crobag usually do the trick.</p> <p>The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Railjet">Railjet</a> is Austria’s main high‐speed train network, featuring great 1<sup>st</sup> class experience (equivalent to the German’s Intercity Express network). Boarded the train about 20 minutes prior to departure, simply because it’s nicer to sit and wait in an air‐conditioned 1<sup>st</sup> class cabin than inside the train station along with hundreds of people.</p> <p>Train left a few minutes past schedule. Itinerary: three hours direct high‐speed train to Budapest. Couldn’t be easier than that, could it?</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7izVLOpGi71TD6_Z2aGR_fQ1NNxU1Goo1On3YP7wMmyBIwsakOX-FTGpM6OfuCxbuZ7mIRrLHPsRhXk6oRQ2XlKwm0-zvmkkbAeDajd25jxePVBxHiYAee-ldp1w66l1eyvDVW2M4N_T/s1600-h/IMG_10781%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1078" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1078" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_8pRhizPIEMirhHkHGPGligK12sUSyfgRqt1rynYUvmFtgPZ5n3XonCpOX810sYecYEumXukiZuiLm3etIEfikqivY8wHpuOq5WJWR3fQ3xB4fKHgi0x1bJjPcI8fMsv2J1O2KCzS1vTP/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Almost naturally, though, something had to go wrong. Due to the serious floods that hit Europe a few weeks ago—floods that caused, among others, shutting down a few major high‐speed railway links in Germany, causing havoc—a particular section of the track, between <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gy%C5%91r">Győr</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tatab%C3%A1nya">Tatabánya</a> (both are in Hungary, and both are cities about which I had known nothing before), could not be traversed by train. Instead, passengers were instructed to leave the train in Győr, take a bus to Tatabánya, and take a train from there to Budapest.</p> <p>The distance between Győr and Tatabánya is about 66km, which meant spending an hour inside a bus. Not a big deal in absolute terms—heck, I’m still carrying the scars from that <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/05/zagreb-croatia-to-prague-czech-republic.html">tantalizingly horrendous bus ride to Poland</a>, in the earlier part of the tour—but still, after a relaxing day off and with more than half of the tour behind me, travel challenges are less and less welcome.</p> <p>But hey, what can you do.</p> <p>Left the train in Győr, seriously expecting everything to go wrong. Something in Hungary’s air—just like Poland’s—told me that things were bound to somehow get screwed up.</p> <p>I was wrong. I suppose that, as some time has already passed since the floods started affecting the Hungarian railway system, the travel authorities were already prepared to deal with the train → bus → train complication. Bus was found within an instant; five minutes later we were already all on our way to Tatabánya. Fortunately, as it was weekend, roads were pretty clear. Bus ride went just fine, save for two particularly annoying kids sitting somewhere behind and being way too noisy to be considered charming.</p> <p>Arriving in Tatabánya, I was stressed again. Now what? looking up at a train schedules’ app on my mobile, I realized that a direct train leaves Tatabánya towards Budapest once every two hours. Just like the entire population of the world (minus the population of Tatabánya itself), I did not want to stay in Tatabánya. What do I do? take a bus to Budapest? taxi? perhaps walk?</p> <p>Wrong again. Turns out that a train was already waiting for us on the platform. To my complete surprise, that train was identical to the train I left Vienna with—same structure, same cabins, same seat numbering—maybe it was actually the <em>very same train</em>? I don’t know. If it was the same train, why weren’t we allowed to simply stay in it?</p> <p>Puzzling. Still, I was very happy that the potentially annoying change in travel plans turned out to be much simpler and less intimidating than expected. Boarded the train in Tatabánya, and 20 minutes later it was on its way to Budapest, arriving Budapest’s <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Budapest_Keleti_railway_station">Keleti station</a> about 40 minutes past original schedule.</p> <p>Not bad.</p> <p>Left the train onto the platform to the sensation of searing heat, and immediately sought a place to register myself as a Jew. Couldn’t find any so I went on my way.</p> <hr /> <p>Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.</p> <p>I have been to Budapest before, during the <a href="http://gl.isaac.shabtay.com/2010/07/concert-day-papp-laszlo-budapest.html">2010 Get Lucky tour</a>. That visit was brief: it ended badly (as I caught a virus there which made me feel sick for about four days) but, really, during the very little time that I was walking around that city, I noticed that it had great character and beauty.</p> <p>That was 2010. Fast forward three years, and in the Hungarian Parliament there exists a neo‐fascist, neo‐Nazi party that, in the recent elections, received (sit tight; if you had never heard this before, you’re going to be shocked) 16.67% of the votes in the first round. A second round was then needed, in which they won 12.26% of the votes and, consequently, 12% of the seats in Parliament.</p> <p>This party (called <em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jobbik">Jobbik</a></em>. Their motto: “<em>The Movement for a Better Hungary</em>”) has some <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jobbik#Controversy">significant history</a> in leading a racist (particularly anti‐Semitic) and even homophobic agenda. You are more than welcome to read about their bent ideas and screwed up agenda in Wikipedia; I will just highlight a few.</p> <ul> <li>In 2012, a Jobbik parliamentarian decided it would be a great idea to commemorate the 1882 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiszaeszl%C3%A1r_Affair">Tiszaeszlár blood libel</a>… while in Parliament. That blood libel claimed that a 14 years old girl from a Hungarian village was killed by Jewish fanatics for her blood to be used for a Passover celebration, and then triggered a series of pogroms against Hungarian Jews, which lasted even after it was proven that the Jewish community had nothing to do with it. </li> <li>In April 2012, the party submitted to Parliament an amendment to <a href="http://www.politics.hu/20120412/jobbik-submits-amendment-aimed-at-banning-gay-propaganda">ban “gay propaganda”</a> (this isn’t much different from what’s going on in Russia nowadays). </li> <li>In November 2012, another Jobbik parliamentarian by the name of Marton Gyöngyösi stated that the Hungarian government should create a list to include “all dangerous Jews who are posing threat to Hungarian national security”. </li> <li>They demand that the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sz%C3%A9kely_Land">Székely Land</a> in Romania is given <em>territorial autonomy</em> (the Székely Land is a territory in Romania which is primarily inhabited by Hungarians). Combine that with Jobbik’s insane idea of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magyar_G%C3%A1rda">Hungarian National Guard</a>—an idea they, of course, implemented in practice—and it doesn’t take a paranoid to predict a war going on in the future. </li> <li>The party is against globalised capitalism. That by itself isn’t such a despicable idea. However, Jobbik made it clear that it specifically opposes Israeli and Jewish investments in Hungary. In May 2013, when the World Jewish Congress announced its plan to have its 2013 congress in Budapest, the party’s chairman (!) said the following: “The Israeli conquerors, these investors, should look for another country in the world for themselves because Hungary is not for sale”. I fail to find the connection between deciding to hold a congress in Hungary and buying out the entire country, but I suppose that Nazi asses follow their own logic. </li> <li>A newsletter published by an organization headed by a Jobbik candidate to the European Parliament (!) once had the following written in it: “Given our current situation, anti‐Semitism is not just our right, but it is the duty of every Hungarian homeland lover, and we must prepare for armed battle against the Jews”. Gee, thanks. </li> </ul> <p>Now, you may choose to challenge me by saying that I shouldn’t generalize an entire country based on the votes of 12% of the population. Oh well: in the 2006 elections, this party got 0.007% of the votes in the final round. So, no: I don’t generalize saying that “all Hungarians are Nazi”: absolutely not. Instead, I’m saying that something in the Hungarian society must be sick to the bone if it allows a Nazi party to multiply its relative power by 1,713 in four years (between two consecutive elections).</p> <p>Admittedly, I was initially considering making my own protest by skipping the concert in Hungary. Eventually, I decided that my admiration of this wonderful band still supersedes my feeling of disgust towards Hungary’s politics, so I shall go ahead and attend the concert. Instead, I decided to protest through this pathetic blog and attempt to contribute as little as possible to Hungary’s economy.</p> <p>I will leave it to the Hungarians to figure out what went so broken in their society. It’s the Hungarian people who are going to suffer the consequences of their bent politics: I just hope that minorities in Hungary—not necessarily Jewish, of course—are going to survive this with minimum casualties.</p> <hr /> <p>The hotel for the night, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g274887-d1772453-Reviews-Royal_Park_Boutique_Hotel-Budapest_Central_Hungary.html">Royal Park Boutique Hotel</a>, is conveniently located less than 100 meters from the central railway station. Due to construction going on around the central railway station (and, in fact, spanning much of the same street westbound all the way to the Danube), the station’s huge main entrance is closed until further notice, sending people scrambling around for solutions how to get the hell out of that station and, more importantly, how to cross a single road without being killed. Construction, really, all around: fences everywhere and totally unclear signage as to where you should be going. That, together with the immense heat and Budapest’s <a href="http://www.budapestresources.com/content/budapest-second-most-polluted-city">ferocious air pollution problem</a>, wasn’t exactly chicken soup for the soul.</p> <p>Those 100 meters to the hotel were enough for me to determine that something’s wrong in this area of Budapest. Looking around, you get the feeling that you don’t want to be in this place at all, and that the place doesn’t want you in it either. Groups of dusty, transparent people roaming the streets with empty looks in their eyes; garbage everywhere; poor infrastructure and the smell of rotten <em>something</em>; in one word, “the works”. Fortunately, however, Jeroen did his homework well and the hotel turned out to be very good. €58 a night—a bargain—for a well‐equipped hotel, beautiful inside. This hotel certainly doesn’t belong in this area of the city.</p> <p>Checked in, did some writing for slightly more than an hour, uploaded the <a href="http://p.isaac.shabtay.com/2013/06/regensburg-germany-to-vienna-austria.html">previous post</a> and decided to hit the streets looking for some more interesting scenery.</p> <p>Once outside, decided to head west towards the Danube. That’s where the “inner city” is, and to my recollection, that would be where things start being interesting here. Unfortunately, a look in the map showed that the “inner city” is about 2km away.</p> <p>Bothers me to no end why neither of us thought about taking a bus there, or the metro. Instead, we simply started walking. Perhaps we had hopes of discovering anything worth the while along the way? who knows. Regardless, no; we didn’t. Instead, we spent precious time walking through stinking streets, the sun reducing my life expectancy one step at a time, with the terrible, <em>TERRIBLE</em> smog‐filled, disgusting Budapest air making me feel like vomiting.</p> <p>Along the way, ran into Elian and Arnaud, who flew in from France to catch the concert. Both informed us that there’s absolutely nothing interesting to see around, and that most interesting things in the city are on the other side of the Danube.</p> <p>Things start becoming slightly better as you approach the “inner city” which is, perhaps not surprisingly, where tourists to Budapest are usually headed to.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYWqZPcz9iEHJ30PVIRokO2sW30jyNDzbPr5ArPRsV4vpKxsFd_hKATAqE3hxJzxVLMbIg3312gbdqvRLgFYsSEimSlBuazDWJz6kyUaeQCJhvWNsiBKWrf4X2BHKIwxBsquiwnVxuW44/s1600-h/IMG_10791%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1079" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1079" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZNSc7kdcWOIwjt1E4R1-7ONL6iLx2FzOlrjfTpljczuksMT8M1gQrvPdDuLwfF-8T3nDVVP7dWZCnFXmfyAtjpEtBhxjcLcM3jOZ1wElbF-IY3jouLF2U4TZgGGy5ABrRgjvCfcj44MfH/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzaNsjprgwa596eA8omT1E39csHcOWg9-MXuD35P6dGfvKZPCZPFzZ2IYI0PTdqbyGKfwf6C-8NNPwBW5FSTBQEOpK733Z0px70l2ouQunZkXdPnKh391XM3p1W3Hm9kz8vCZCGbuQ2iGl/s1600-h/IMG_20130622_163702.jpg"><img title="IMG_20130622_163702" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_20130622_163702" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdvKcCXMxPIdxNWV15VlaHaJxkoH8DHnIUh8XrA1i0lvK5QtbXwbD0bypZnsMGJ_hDkEnMXrFoOLJgVF7mWgLfkiL5vYPI7_u_3FkOYJlffLAm2GLXft6ZRi8Q_oVNyRaHOEgXRsOk3ns/?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /></a></p> <p>The city of Budapest actually consists of two parts: <em>Buda</em> and <em>Pest</em>. The two are separated by the Danube river: <em>Buda</em> is the prettier, more affluent part; <em>Pest</em> is where the central railway station is, and where we ended up staying. Most interesting things to see and do are in <em>Buda</em>; still, the plan was originally to only spend one night here, knowing that there’ll be no time to explore much anyway. If you are heading to Budapest for a few days, try to stay west of the Danube.</p> <p>The more you approach the various bridges connecting Buda and Pest, the prettier things become.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepag3Rq6Ue0WeAibBuBVve2r5s9juKIMETdZoeXpWgZdBqD9vr1FYkathGmL26cDwu-LE-hCqOOO-zXLeQIy8_Nv1ADqK7FRbxJs0QxoE0CSQPt7rT5NiBwANvaatLsXc8AsUwwENB834/s1600-h/IMG_10801%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1080" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgprlSxW-e1bbomRpjgJ6DJaLpHJaKk_DhQd8us9GSjgdxamMRGb9pG8LKRla759VhGL1hYwcFsCQBgotdfBehNgnCE5oZ4LznvKtRlwV3guS2rEyzyQYketAdYZj5uNFk6soyZtPv95Omt/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>As plans were to have dinner before the concert in a restaurant near the hotel, time pretty much ran out already. Decided to walk on the bridge of a few shots before heading back.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTpjAuefWcwkemkj-rP3P__wXjYRAfdklkv5ERQX_UOGEbinksrXsgzE8SLw3SjJVgmoV-lQYHDD3DCqz27qSCrVxfp5qFUQtDbRvcflCT7OzRnoyxl59FBzdJU1EebSGDQh_iKb84EJxi/s1600-h/PANO_20130622_164617%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130622_164617" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130622_164617" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsxAWVo5JIXxZaNuGgwLkx8bRwL_assSexyYsYpqN5LVdRmE1zP5vLn1LyIdR4hyphenhyphenb7Bsu3qnKl5ClKZysPxvsfKfSgjxtaSxFRbqDZJS0fuaXi3l4r-fTnmlo8GUP4G1DEResxBozspJMY/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="223" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXd_ybecwPgTLG5XwHYnuDSrv4Xf00oYCkFlHNdQI1tjvcTgyEuok2j9bGJ8sw-npxQi7RCe4BB-WqQFE2blglUXtuBN8wpxgul_BOSfvsqa1PiC6r6r9FTI-kNJXwfOyPZQYw8uD8X6I/s1600-h/PANO_20130622_164914%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130622_164914" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130622_164914" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRohGzTPg3vx45NmYQTR6OFvQ1CAr5a9ZX-twH2lJ4qi-M0hyphenhyphenA7c5672fHrh8uTAPIuLBNv3Pnc7ZPTNe_wYcpPXdpkoRyndUjo0hXknbCdKORNJjsv7rIii7luBS6YOaMyjzNE5FkIfSf/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="217" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLUNFfKBR8sHTdWCrJuaNyOpUCdqhL_pvtiIYr8iL4MikrqZzQvfRSNFCmFIYM1LdwGsRNLBRqvN5MfhusgPDn216O9iHVojIKx1979ICWY1IFMrVNplR-PdfU2-vUXj6Sj8pdyk1Pt2YW/s1600-h/IMG_10831%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1083" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1083" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3Kfrb0AGCfJOM0K1MUXxOlhQxTqSAXtQu9skRM_Ng3KHsyhlbuB2McNH9YCEXnmbXw65aCyQy0-sfDCm8GUMu0Fp643Sy_5DkgVI1sbO4LzGE0SvH_qn7XuRr8si-vFKBQBTqw5luQ43/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQViPKfpCJdEza_aAERvHViA8Hl-TIZM3jhB98_ZDNZq-2W9Nr3qhChDeV-lRqm4e-u3rJLWuMwxU_shIG46X_AHwM38VyzAgI5-pBne-Kct3zCxWsqY97ZcZwEcra_QLw3IjFkr-B5Kd/s1600-h/IMG_10841%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1084" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1084" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguEQKsNI4I0lOQJYRVXSly3ZZBQT4K8Sl197UoKe66CxufbSCaZslK38eIaoTXPrQJIr3IrAguKzShhNafYB59Cp7HG_TQH5Vph-5HsZYf317pHqaug-Dj5ysfeMPrOZX6_9zOtc_pvtUM/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8HpoqMb7HiixrlIWUdEfkHYUbQax8_dkEQl_sDKQUIVlu-CyXe6oiNLFt_V9Tov-pwwlUHeqoSPSV0KK1Fym96a7XRbiH7CdhBz_wwLDJ0LUXVE_VpzKBGMku7B0srr7YdBvUKwdfr0FN/s1600-h/IMG_10851%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1085" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1085" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoy_5wLX5RSBd6FDU_m3uDVjCNYLRFuxLTulpY2b0CTt06kUqt8htvDW4oubft8fkfaNVg1zU0FH6WPklrCQrJJ4tNFtUqjpiax-kfBatP3qHaB85oq_Ss39l5wvOMq7Fwdg8qCg371YT2/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1npFEXu890fkZoaHOrpMp6F3WIxfgMl1_7xxvRFVN3vqaFlcSmV2N9YuiA8RzjL1SIKBs-1W4RkeINHkMD-KdSo9M_dCIK9zldPEbv_j9SWcSuRXycIHoPgdjirIx46CDUZVCjZEGenAq/s1600-h/IMG_10861%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1086" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1086" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw1CtIZhpoTuRHkHu5QSYRYITuQh1ho8UpGojow1aNyJzd2k7vY37Qff4BrN_gR8snIIH_FKrVSSI4cHlShd7xGATrQn56a3uiW7rXymt29e4A4HH6wR8tFMrXJhNWe4M5D-qlZ4L2om99/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Backtracking, we decided to take a bus back to the hotel. A quick look in Google Maps revealed that it takes less than ten minutes to ride that entire disgusting stretch that we suffered so much walking through just an hour earlier. Boarding the bus, I asked for two tickets.</p> <p>The driver looked at me and mumbled something in a language which I have a very strong reason to believe was Hungarian.</p> <p>Needless to say, I don’t understand Hungarian.</p> <p>The driver refused to accept money. I didn’t really know what else I should be doing. An impromptu decision was made to simply remain on the bus and see what happened. Nothing happened. The bus went on its way, and ten minutes later we were at the hotel.</p> <p>Of course I had to find out what the hell the deal was with buses here. Turns out that buses are not free here. You can’t, however, purchase tickets on the bus itself: you can buy those in kiosks, or in the reception of certain hotels.</p> <p>Fine. I’ll remember that for the next time I’m in Budapest, which I estimate to be at some point between “in two thousand years” and “never”.</p> <p>Back at the hotel to get ready for the concert, and out again for dinner.</p> <p>Maarten and Bruno—heading to the Budapest concert from Germany and Switzerland, respectively—suggested, the day before, that we get together for dinner before heading to the show. The Dutchman took it upon himself to do the research and ended up with a place called <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Restaurant_Review-g274887-d1719254-Reviews-Huszar_Etterem-Budapest_Central_Hungary.html">Huszár Étterem</a>, located about 10 minutes walk from our hotel.</p> <p>Walking towards the place (plan was to meet the folks there), I started mocking the Dutchman. This entire area of Budapest looks so unfriendly, so uninviting, so dusty—heck, you lose your appetite just walking the streets around here. I spent the time walking there thinking about the tone I’m going to use in my voice when I finally tell the Dutchman “good choice, pal”.</p> <p>Bruno was there—good to see him, such a nice fellow—so, starving, we entered the place and got a table for four. Maarten showed up a few minutes later, and we were scanning the menus while catching up.</p> <p>In the corner, we noticed a couple of folks holding musical instruments. You know, of these duos / trios who force their horrible music upon you while you’re dining, expecting you to tip them. As soon as I noticed that, I was determined to simply ignore this despicable sales tactic; unfortunately, it was much harder to ignore the terrible “music” that the duo so violently forced out of their poor instruments.</p> <p>As this is Hungary, I decided to try the goulash. Hungary is the home country of the goulash: as many Israelis have roots in Hungary (I don’t), the goulash is also a very popular dish in Israel. I never really quite “connected” to it, but heck, I’m in Hungary, so why not give it a chance here?</p> <p>After a bowl of “fruit soup” (sounds strange, huh? I know. It tastes even stranger. Basically, it’s water with a few unidentified fruit swimming inside, plus whipped cream. Not ugly, but not something I’d try again without a gun pointed to my head), there came the goulash.</p> <p>And it was hands down the best goulash I had in my entire life, and one of the tastiest meals I had in the tour. How <em>on earth</em> did they get to make it so tasty is way beyond me. That particular goulash involved some good amount of <em>sauerkraut</em> and steamed onion, as well as sour cream and some fresh herbs on top. Hell, it’s 1:47am as I’m writing these lines and I’m drooling just <em>thinking</em> about that meal.</p> <p>In one word, WOW. I don’t know if it’s something that this particular restaurant does well (when all the mockery about the surroundings is said and done, still, this restaurant is currently ranked #59 out of about 1,200 restaurants in Budapest, according to <em>TripAdvisor</em>), or maybe I grew up experiencing all the wrong types of goulash.</p> <p>If you’re in Budapest, go to that place. Service is great, it’s operated by the owners. Cute little restaurant and the food is delicious.</p> <p>Prices?</p> <div class="indented"> <p>Hungary is a part of the European Union, but not a part of the European Monetary Union. Over the years, the Hungarian governments were debating whether they should be joining the Euro zone; at the moment, it’s unclear when Hungary is going to join the Euro zone, if at all.</p> <p>The local currency is called “Hungarian Forint”, abbreviated <em>HUF</em>. The exchange rates reveals much about the inflation that took place here during the 1980s: as of this writing, 1 HUF = €0.0033 / $0.0044 US / $0.0046 CAD / 0.016 ILS.</p> <p>For the westerner tourist, things here are ridiculously cheap. In the most touristic area of <em>Pest</em>, a bottle of mineral water costs €1. Earlier at the ATM, I was given a series of 2,000 HUF bills as well as one bill of 20,000 HUF. I decided I need some change, so I handed the 20,000 HUF bill to the cashier, who, in turn, choked.</p> <p>Food here is, too, very cheap. A full three course meal in that wonderful restaurant, including drinks, went for about €11 per person.</p> </div> <p>From the restaurant, it was a short taxi ride to the venue. The taxi driver’s English was pretty good and he seemed like he knows a thing or two about the city. He also appeared to be very nice and welcoming. Good chap.</p> <p>I just had to ask.</p> <p>– “Tell me something… this area of the city… is it a good area? a bad area? what’s going on in it?”</p> <p>The taxi driver went ahead to explain that this particular part of the city is now run down, much due to (are you sitting? I’m not making this up) <em>blacks, gypsies and all sorts of other “people” who decided to settle in this place</em>.</p> <p>And that was in a taxi cab carrying four passengers.</p> <p>I looked at Jeroen, Jeroen looked at me.</p> <p>– “Oh. I see”, I mumbled.</p> <hr /> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmivueclG9MUY5T29ftUyv5n5-wra3gRsOmmYsOKEo4ktnHUdm259JcTHQH-UTV4p0q3CBOzx7bs44QRDEMsF8eganBelkotJ1iwYhNQwZO52RzOSqvPi3PeRcIhTb5J5UcwfnSviipMiN/s1600-h/PANO_20130622_192233%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="PANO_20130622_192233" style="display: inline" alt="PANO_20130622_192233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjktILs6d4wYwZK7_d8P6Rmq2dOyzN9hrM4PFtrx4pkuRqWJVtdydr01HSsVGSNR51knWdysHpgxYr_K9Uy9gF54Ml0sp_FAUL73vEaI2cMdXmOPoBZoJm2H26p99CrRnQTLI_6VD5IA8aG/?imgmax=800" width="492" height="275" /></a></p> <p>The venue, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%C3%A1szl%C3%B3_Papp_Budapest_Sports_Arena">Budapest Sports Arena</a>, is really called “Papp László Budapest Sports Arena”. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%C3%A1szl%C3%B3_Papp">Papp László</a> was a Hungarian boxer back in the 1950s, which was a little problematic for him as Hungary used to be a Communist country back then, disallowing boxing. He was, then, forced to travel to Vienna in order to practice and fight.</p> <p>I have been to this arena before, during the 2010 Get Lucky tour.</p> <p>Picked up the tickets, entered the venue.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_lkNXUtbKstaIQmQKwVxwNn9ymRwNg68VT_H58XEyP8LalT1Sdk6ctv6k2QROhUmmS99Imun2H4doQAOQruAElhyphenhyphen0LFBtIHq2D313rm-Mqm89-_axKHnC-EHXboWCAsTJFiC7m8gp5Iq/s1600-h/IMG_10921%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1092" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1092" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuocuuGa4qQfDQMtxaqON8P74rJTCQ0dBKaZ3oaPRVNzNyWypExbGsHlao3AEuaXc7P65_AbN2W48otzFLvFJ3o7-E4mwM5GpggoTHayad9JEfHGcdTHChwtN4Xke4jIrrrQWJISN9WTOV/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>The venue’s arrangement: general admission, standing, in front of the stage; seated everywhere else. As usual, we had picked the seated option, leaving the general admission area to those who were going to attend less than 70 shows in this tour.</p> <p>Concert started a few minutes past schedule, with the set including <em>Cleaning My Gun</em> (as customary for shows that involve standing audience) and excluding <em>Haul Away</em>. Good show—nothing out of the ordinary, really.</p> <p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8M0Vi3g2FkWSy3pwoy-UOWq0WBz8kH0qEWpfd7oiTuBtYSiqxecmRPE9pR3knzJ0ZmRWw8lNZCdj6VpNwTgpenydF1Yr_IDbpgnT5t6L-jNu27XU0tcZ1jLtb80sEyLMQ7mewvLLZbYR/s1600-h/IMG_11041%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1104" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1104" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrI0EcJf46RohgLJ26tkPJIB-U5VFynmI4h9XsxfSPHvTHNqtQ_RS7PgoewHP3ZLAi1xySmMJ3HJgzEFbjVh7C3SiXuVrohCVlu1V7_8qb0RfFPysfi5J8lRWMGmaZlSM2dlhD7VhGptPr/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8r21yZTH1pIe8q1SNhvIWMFJIhalgyCeuhAt4d_V9KL6oAVaIVo4IlcMQkVB49f2QTAcErY7cF8rsQy3NMAZkK3Uy3MvBJYgf8T6y3vCatYPD7T7vjf2On2YxK1Z99WGDtHiOyCEhzDUr/s1600-h/IMG_11051%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1105" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1105" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezJO0V4ZANslQtJz96JNoXRZY1AwibfcxF0eDocSRQjw7UFp-1Ue2kiH-GcCwzi_uWZ4GVUD7Zkjmhu65UTnwPrlwZdBQ3MlnfglHjm3lmzCssupEGKWIChNpG_-4OoPiKA8p1THwFcy2/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU5KXZLlNowhNib_1rRl_-AGdYdBILH7SENQOUyA6rZhhzyPGpL1aDWIUtnYXHnZDog7LgiNjvgAJ23wBOcySfceIykC6PgUFQyqSiBFIe7DiEuv_6UUf35R5-k9WXpik8tx8C4sMYvu1W/s1600-h/IMG_11081%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1108" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1108" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8VWX_ozuLoXyRILg6Izc18e85fhVgZfQtICZnhtQNqvsZ119jlSo7iENoaMwg9PML-qlPdiZcSl-8eWIfjMmkAeBk0vQfJ-DKdMLjrKA5fRIGG0TQLZ0io9JfKAvX9vo0LicRzgpRKdgt/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNjiilw8-EZV57YWqz1HcY3E8GbVr6XzI27kLm14dePaIEUhjqEqubMDFUWA-MD9K3ovI-xgHBNOww0AC49Tq4MK2_F3ATV5KGhZdFEtKnfUpG_9esBFYrnDfpEqmJvgd-HJ2eeXsHnr24/s1600-h/IMG_10931%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1093" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1093" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_FVcfCqSfKsYyx3h8vBHD3Qb7Pa0YH77X1HNlFef6YfbRopsAyfbGisw7kqjhO_5DIKTv8uGLytSMkyGWcQflQ-ENhTvkQ72qi6Lr7BtE1eGx4H-2p5Pw19zqR0EST0TJTPeuR7JtR_W7/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxGUqAVNWwgJAvKjXsZfqeYRK2Lr3nsEoZ0hALkE2NeQ4p_YBirtpr6Ia_uyKG5CS_y19fwTCu-sFf3SsCO4ixhXstlQ2ipH8yZq-i3ibcO43rmlzXKpUkZMRydavXptYww2tR85sLt80p/s1600-h/IMG_10951%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1095" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1095" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSi5bhv4Rx38hlRIymwl2odQh98Z9d26_eEDDg6ISDZVFfE6yOW0j_hZBoLhtMBcAgyfY5sxM3-mclSM85Vz_hzAtk0se3XUoaXWehl1uo81WE_iKAddruWJqueXfGMNckCgPcCHBhKCZ6/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgCeZTAfHjXNZsotKTyAOwHAaQ4mOhIhFIx5DAXYjmdl9-o2xJOuuh7vOiUk8hTjiL2KUxx2KMwN8KzxvwSu9w6R2Bk2YQDPnomVn6pRIWE9dbxxgooldec8kzYgeZHED5W5cgPX_rz59_/s1600-h/IMG_10991%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img title="IMG_1099" style="display: inline" alt="IMG_1099" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbmBrl-PZjwXViOqFtInBuPBX8Rb5RJlQ33T8kUqxKlgLqcHztBZnsDyWLFuxq2Oz1g14Kc4ju0ZJBVFKKzkVZW2jxzE42tglGbqG4ELSUdD6J9wlIvvl8HZY55wykjTorGeF0P3jDoMAC/?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /></a></p> <p>Those who have attended a few concerts before could tell you that, in the beginning of the show, one of the band’s sound engineers travels along the venue holding a laptop in his hand. I’m guessing that this is done in order to measure the sound levels in different parts of the venue, so it can be fine tuned later. I have seen this guy almost 200 times before and don’t know his name (maybe one of the readers can help out?). Anyway, he happened to have finished travelling through the floor area and decided to climb up the stairs to the seated area.</p> <p>However, according to this venue’s rules, this wasn’t permitted for the audience. If you had a ticket to the floor area, it’s the floor you’re going to be in; if you had a ticket to the seated area, you can’t access the floor. The venue placed staff in each and every passage between the floor and the seated area, to prevent people from moving between those two sections.</p> <p>The staff member, mistaking the sound engineer to be a delinquent concertgoer, grabbed the sound engineer’s arm preventing him from climbing the stairs (are these people even <em>allowed</em> to touch anyone?). As it was already during show time—<em>Corned Beef City</em> was playing, which kind of impedes the possibility of a quiet dialogue—it took him some time to explain to the staff member that she should leave him the hell alone as he’s doing his job. He seemed to be pissed about it all.</p> <p>Justifiably, I think. I wouldn’t tolerate anyone grabbing my arms preventing me from going somewhere before fully explaining to me what it is that I’m doing wrong (unless, of course, they are just about to save my life).</p> <p>Concert ended; a short metro ride—one station—back to the hotel, when I realized that I have quite a lot of local currency that I have nothing to do with.</p> <hr /> <p>Sat down at the hotel’s bar for a drink and a chat with the nice lady in charge there. Started talking about things: Hungary… life here… the economy. Somehow, I got to ask about that neo‐Nazi party I wrote about earlier in this post.</p> <p>Turns out that Hungary’s economy is in the toilet. Years of corruption in all levels of government have seriously eradicated the middle class: middle class—at least according to this nice lady—virtually doesn’t exist anymore. For the most part, it’s either you’re working long hours just to make ends meet—or you’re rich. Nothing in between.</p> <p>A deteriorating economy has always been a fertile ground for extreme right wing political parties. When the public is in distress, it is very easy to gain popularity by throwing the blame at certain groups who are “not like us”. That’s exactly what the Nazi party did in Germany during the 1930s. Hungary’s <em>Jobbik</em> party decided to do exactly the same, and… lo and behold, it worked.</p> <p>I truly and genuinely feel sorry for the Hungarian people. Let’s all hope for better times.</p> <hr /> <p>Signing off this post from my hotel room in Budapest. Yes, still. It’s 2:30am here, and I decided to not go to bed before finishing up this post.</p> <p>Tomorrow: Bratislava, Slovakia. Another place on earth that I had never been to before.</p> <p>Isaac</p> Isaac Shabtayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17000427782527486260noreply@blogger.com1