The Dalmatian Coast.  The land of endless beauty.  Or so says the very well put together brochure from the tourist office.  One might expect a little less than endless beauty from an area that was at war only twenty years ago.  But in all actuality, the brochure isn't all that far off.  

I guess I'm not sure what I expected before I came to the Balkans.  I had a vague recollection of it being a war-torn region at some point in my life, but really couldn't place when or why that was.  I remembered hearing stories on the news or from my parents about Croatia, Bosnia and Serbia.  About Sarajevo and how it was a dangerous place.  I remember seeing the fronts of magazines displaying emaciated bodies and teenage soldiers carrying weapons that looked comically large to be in their hands.  I was half-expecting a third-world country, maybe some under-appreciated world-heritage sites and definitely some slightly under-staffed and under-funded tourist resources.  

In Croatia at least, this assumption was wrong.  On all counts.  We took the train into Zagreb from Vienna - a quick 6-hour ride that was slightly interrupted by track construction where we had to get off the train and take a bus for about half an hour.  I only mention this because in all of the confusion of transfers Steph forgot her hiking boots on the bus.  It may or may not be the second pair of shoes she's lost in as many months.  I will not be storing my shoes in her bag at any point.  Arrival into Zagreb was easy, we picked up our rental car, and found a hostel that we thought would be quite empty, but it turned out to be a backpacker's party hostel...our roommates (two 20-year-old guys from the US) didn't even arrive until after midnight, at which point they showered and went back out.  Seriously, it made me feel so very old.  

Zagreb was beautiful, though we only stayed for a half a day.  Early the next morning (by early I mean 10.  Our roommates made sure we got very little sleep) we jumped in our car (yet to be named, less personality than Whinny) and headed for the hinterland.  I had read about a series of waterfalls on the Bosnian border that were supposed to be absolutely amazing.  This is absolutely true.  There is a series of small lakes each slightly higher than the other with waterfalls connecting them.  Some of the waterfalls are three feet high, some are 50 feet high.  All around the pools are paths with wooden walkways set up to observe the waterfalls.  The water in the lakes is so blue and so clear it almost seems unnatural.  We spent nearly six hours hiking around the lakes, looking at all the waterfalls, trying to resist jumping into the clear waters (strictly forbidden) and being amazing by their beauty.  

After the falls we headed straight for the Adriatic Coast.  As if we hadn't seen enough water.  We made it to Zadar, home of Maraschino Liquor (apparently a favorite of Napoleon) and where Alfred Hitchcock claimed had the most beautiful sunset in the world.  After getting in a bit late we parked in a possibly illegal (read: police parking) spot, and basically ran to the shore to see the sunset.  It was pretty amazing - turning every warm color in the rainbow, from a light yellow to a deep deep red.  After Zadar we stopped in Split.  The town was nice, but overrun with tourists.  I found myself bumping into people everywhere I went, and after about half a day was ready to leave.  

After Split, on south to Dubrovnik.  If there is one city to go to on the Adriatic, it's probably Dubrovnik.  The city itself and its immediate area was an independent nation until the 1800's, and the city still has a very strong patriotic and independent streak.  There are thick walls surrounding the old city, with a tourist path on the top of them that you can use to walk the entire circumference of the town.  We decided to do this, and because there wasn't a brochure to go with it, we shared an audio guide to get some extra information.  The audio guide was peppered with absolute proclamations about how Dubrovnik was the most beautiful city in the world, it had the strongest navy, the most important port, the most interesting culture.  The narrator making these proclamations, was a native English speaker, presumably not from Dubrovnik.  We had fun picturing her during the taping of the guide occasionally putting her hand over the microphone to say, "…are you kidding me with this right now? (uncover mic)…Dubrovnik has the most interesting culture in all the…"

Intent on seeing more of the Balkans than Croatia, after Dubrovnik we headed South for Montenegro.  Montenegro didn't fair as well after the war as Croatia, which was apparent as soon as we crossed the border.  Road got a little rougher, people were a little less friendly.  We went first to Kotor, which is listed as a UNESCO world-heritage site.  Deservedly so.  Kotor sits inland about two kilometers, at the end of the Bay of Kotor (aptly named, I think).  The bay is large and deep enough for giant cruise ships to do 180's in it, and clear enough to easily see at least ten feet down.  The city itself is billed as 'medieval' and also has giant walls surrounding it, although these walls stretch to the top of the mountain that the city is built under.  We decided to climb these walls as well.  The map at the base pointed out the three sections we would walk through to get to the top.  They were labeled, 'reasonably safe', 'increasing danger', and 'very risky'.  Eeh.  At least they warned us.  

Having only a few days left until our car was due back, we decided to check out a little bit of Bosnia.  Bosnia, it seems, has been the slowest to recover from the Yugoslavian war (that we saw).  Infrastructure was not so great, and things like tourist information booths (that we have been relying on for help throughout the trip) were basically non-existent.  After an overnight stay in Mostar, where there is an old world-heritage bridge, destroyed in the war and triumphantly rebuilt in a joint project by several nations afterwards.  Next on our journey through this still recovering country was Sarajevo.  Sarajevo was the reality that I had expected elsewhere.  Buildings still pockmarked from shell explosions.  Trash strewn streets in serious need of repair.  Stray dogs wandering the streets, aggressively barking at pedestrians.  Cemeteries dotting the city, filling nearly every corner of open space.  We visited the Sarajevo history museum, intent on learning more about the war that we both were embarrassingly ignorant about and we learned about the history of Bosnia and its people.  Bosnia is again one of those places in the unfortunate geographic position that lends itself to outside aggression - first from the Ottomans and then from the Austrians - then after WWII, lumped together in the Yugoslavian block.  The three groups of people in this area of Yugoslavia, the Croats, the Serbs and the Bosnians all felt independent of each other and that the country was meant for them.  Some more willing to share than others.

The rest of the museum was entirely about the war, specifically the Serbian siege on the city of Sarajevo.  There were interesting things, like stoves that people built out of scrap metal and a model of a market stand during the siege (frighteningly bare).  There were intimidating things, like guns of all shapes and sizes, factory made and homemade.  There were horrifying things, like a photo of a gun toting soldier kicking an elderly woman in the head as she cowered in front of him or a photo of a baby with an amputated leg.  There were accounts of some of the atrocious crimes the Serbians committed in their quest to terrorize and eventually break the Bosnians - stories of children thrown off bridges and rape camps set up for the purpose of creating more Serbian children.  

Steph and I sat on the museum stairs afterwards, numbly discussing what we had seen.  This wasn't something that had happened in the middle ages when torture and misery seemed somewhat commonplace.  This wasn't something that happened during one of the World Wars, soldiers fighting against soldiers, doing the jobs they signed up for.  This was much different.  What made this so horrible was that this was a war against civilians, with the sole objective being to break the spirit of the people.  Shells hitting schools and churches full of people, snipers firing on people walking across the street, bombs going off near the line for water.  This form of warfare is the worst mankind has to offer.  

Two separate thoughts struck me as we sat there discussing all that we had just seen.  First, I often find myself in the more conservative camp when it comes to intervening in foreign countries.  We have a lot of our own problems in the United States, and I hate to see resources diverted from our children or our poor so that we can get involved in yet another war.  But seeing the conditions that the people of Sarajevo were facing, it seems unethical to not attempt to intervene.  I wouldn't wish those conditions on my worst enemy.  And second, this war was fought (in its most basic sense) because one people considered their culture to be superior to another, and used force to push that culture onto the other.  Is this how people in Iraq think of Americans?  I realize it's not exactly the same, but similar enough that it gave me pause.  

Our last night in Sarajevo we walked to the top of a hill in our neighborhood to watch the sunset over the city.  We took a path winding through one of the many cemeteries, stopping frequently to look at the inscriptions on the identical small white headstones, reading aloud the dates of death.  "'92, '92, '93, '92, '94….", then the ages, "24, 30, 22, 33, 19…" So many people my age or my sister's age.  Young people who only six years before had marveled in the hosting of the winter olympics in their city.  Gone before they had the chance to have their own family, take their kids on vacation, save for retirement or anticipate growing old with their husbands or wives.  

That evening, while sitting on the hill littered with broken bottles, food wrappers and an assortment of wadded pieces of paper, we remarked on how Sarajevo didn't seem quite ready for tourism yet.  I imagine it will take a while before they are.  With the wounds inflicted on its citizens longer lasting and more intense than any physical injury could ever be, i doubt if Sarajevo will ever really be ready to share that pain. 



We're off to Germany for the next three weeks.  Thanks for reading, lots of love.

-EC

It has been nearly 60 days since we left San Francisco.  We have been to 12 countries, about 15 big cities and countless smaller ones.  We have camped for roughly 12 nights, stayed in hostels/hotels 10 nights, taken two overnight trains and couchsurfed the rest.   We have had 12 hosts so far, and we are working on lining up a few more.  Not only has it been a huge moneysaver, it has also richened our experience in each city immensely.  

Couchsurfing is an interesting concept.  Two years ago, before I had heard of the company, couchsurfing would not have been something I would have been interested in.  When I would hear the term, it conjured images of an uncomfortable couch at a friend's house in college that sometimes could be slept on in the event that you couldn't make it home one evening.  It meant a somewhat unclean and lumpy sleeping situation in a living room with a couch cushion as a pillow and a throw blanket as the only source of warmth.  It meant sleeping in the clothes you wore out that night, and waking up to head home for a shower.  In no part of my mind would it be something that I would choose to do for 75% of my nights.  Then slowly, starting last year my ideas on that concept started to change.

Last year I spent about three months in Europe backpacking on my own.  I know, I know, seems like I spend more time out of the country than I do in it these days.  By that time I had worked for the Couchsurfing for a few months, had been able to hear about other people's experiences with surfing and was ready to do it on my own.  I wasn't sure what to expect the first time.  I was worried I wouldn't do it right.  I had spent nights at the houses of friends of friends before, but never at someone's house with whom I didn't have any connection.  I wondered if I should bring a gift.  I wondered if I would be just sharing a living space or if I should expect to have dinner together.  I wondered if it would be awkward, if I would feel uncomfortable, if I should worry for my safety, if I should worry about having my stuff stolen.  So many worries, and so few answers.  

My first couchsurfing experience was in Italy.  My sister had just flown in from Los Angeles to spend two weeks with me, and was equally (if not more) skeptical of the concept.  Because of our joint apprehension, I tried to choose very carefully.  I spent days pouring over profile after profile (the website is set up in a similar way to other social networking sites, in that all members have a profile that tells about who they are, what they're interested in and the type of accommodations they are offering - as well as a section that includes references from anyone on CS that they have hosted or surfed with) intent on choosing the perfect first host.  I spent hours writing intricate requests explaining in depth why I wanted to stay explicitly with them.  When I got a positive answer to one of my requests I was certain that it was going to be such an amazing experience for me and my little sister that neither of us would ever want to stay in a hotel again.  What may or may not be surprising is that it wasn't.  

My first experience was not awesome.  I had tried so hard to find the perfect person, I think I lost sight of the forest for the trees.  I chose an American student living in Italy, close to our age, from the Bay area, who enjoyed much of the same music and same movies - in fact I think we shared the same 'favorite quote' on our page.  Plenty to talk about, I thought, if nothing else, we could always talk about the things we had in common.  The problem was, she really only liked Americans.  She enjoyed the concept of Italy, but pretty much kept to her bubble within her own city.  Turns out, I had tried so hard to find someone that I would be comfortable with I forgot why I was doing it in the first place.  

Yes, couchsurfing saves money - and that's a huge part of it.  We save an average of 20 euros per night per person, which (at five nights per week) works out to 100 euros per week and 400 per month.  Assuming we continue at this rate, at the end of seven months of travel that will save us 2800 euros each (or nearly $4000).  So the cost-saving factor is not to be diminished.  It's very important to the feasibility of long-term travel.  However, couchsurfing is more than that.  After that first experience in Italy, I spent some time thinking about where I had gone wrong in my perfect planning.  It seems obvious now, as I explain it.  It was less obvious two years ago.  

It was nearly a month before I tried surfing again.  By that time I had made it through most of Italy, going all the way South through Sicily and then back North through Milan, and had stayed in more hostels than I would care to ever stay in again.  I was starting to be a little over-budget and more than a little lonely, and thought, I should really try again.  I chose my next host less carefully.  I was headed to Lyon - so I searched everyone in the city that was offering a couch (whereas before I searched only females between the ages of 25 and 30 that spoke 'expert' English) - and found an Asian man, 34-years-old that I had some music in common with, but not much else.  He had quite a few good references, and seemed trustworthy from his profile.  I sent him a request, and within the hour, I received a positive response.  Here we go again.  Staying in a hostel the night before meeting up with him I got nervous again.  I'm generally a pretty shy person, what would I have to talk about with this guy?  Is it really safe as a woman traveling alone to stay with a man I haven't met?

As soon as I met my host, I knew I had nothing to worry about.  He picked me up at the train station, took me with him to a friend's bbq, introduced me to his friends and made me feel like a close member of his family.  He was just as interested in learning about my life in the United States as he was in telling me about all the things he loved about France.  He picked up fresh bread, cheese and wine on his way home from work every evening that we would eat while discussing our respective days.  He gave me a very comfortable couch to sleep on with fresh clean sheets, and never once made me feel like I was imposing (even when I had to ask to stay two extra days when my computer broke).  This is what I had been hearing about.  I got to learn about his life, what he enjoyed about France, I met his friends, we shared meals and bottles of wine and lengthy conversations.  I learned more about what it is like to live in Lyon from someone who loves the city, than I ever could have while staying in a hostel.  I ate better food, made better friends and even managed to save a little money.  

Immediately hooked, I used my last day in Lyon to set up as many couches as I could in my next few cities.  I stayed in Aix-en-Provence with a young couple who timed dinner to be ready just as I arrived.  I rode bicycles and ate croissants with a very nice man in Toulouse.  I went sunbathing with a very talkative woman on the Greek island of Patras, who couldn't imagine living anywhere else in the world.  Then, on my last night in Europe, I attended a symphony rehearsal at the Acropolis with my host, who happened to be the lead celloist in the Athens Philharmonic.  That was last year.  This year so far Steph and I have shared many meals and conversations with our hosts, and again, have learned more about the cities we're visiting than we could ever hope to by simply walking around with a guidebook.  We would never had tried 'smashpot' in Amsterdam, or homemade 'smorbord' in Copenhagen.  We probably wouldn't have found the nighttime beer garden overlooking the city in Prague, or watched an Austria vs Turkey football game in a small bar in Vienna (celebrating because Austria managed to eek out a draw).  

I think because I worked for Couchsurfing, people are eager to ask me questions about the organization.  The most common question is, 'Have you ever had a bad experience through Couchsurfing?'  Sure, some experiences are better than others.  Some hosts (and when I'm home, some surfers) I just click with better than others.  With some the conversation just flows and you are able to strike a natural balance between time spent talking and relaxing.  Some are more interested in providing you with a place to sleep than they are with getting to know you (just as some surfers are more interested in a free place to sleep than they are about cultural understanding).  But in the end, even looking back on that very first experience in Italy, I have to answer no to that question.  Some better than others, all of them different.        

Couchsurfing has been something that I can say without question has changed my life, and I'm not the only one who says that.  I have heard this time and again from my hosts while traveling.  The man in Lyon knew very few people and had fewer friends when he joined the site (so he told me), and now regularly organizes parties with 30 to 40 attendees.  His phone did not stop ringing the entire time I was with him.  The woman in Vienna who we stayed with said the same.  Most of her close friends in the city were met through the website.  Couchsurfing to me, is not only something that has enrichened my experiences in new places, but it has also helped me to grow as a person.  Two years ago I would not have considered myself great at talking to people I didn't know.  Now I find it easier to bridge the gaps that persist when the common background doesn't exist.  I have also learned to trust people more.  I have learned that some people really do want to do things for people for no other reason than because they enjoy doing it.  What a concept.  

I hope that Steph and I continue to couchsurf as much as we have been so far.  Yes, at times it would just be easier to get a hostel, or pitch the tent somewhere.  But if one of our main goals behind traveling around the world is to learn about its inhabitants, then I think the extra effort is warranted.   So far, I'm learning more than I ever could have hoped for.


-EC

Unless you count Istanbul (and I don't), Prague was my first introduction to Eastern Europe.  And by Eastern Europe, I mean Central Europe.  Our couchsurfing host in Prague corrected us, and apparently Prague isn't Eastern Europe at all.  It's Central Europe. Close enough for me.  

Prague was absolutely gorgeous.  One of my favorite cities yet.  Prague escaped WWII with very little damage (in fact, the only bomb dropped on Prague was dropped by an American plane who's pilot thought they were actually bombing Dresden...eeh…thank goodness we have GPS now) so the buildings are amazingly well preserved.  In fact, Prague's entire history is pretty incredible, and i could spend weeks or months in the city just figuring it out.  The Czech Republic is situated in one of those places on the planet that always seems to be in turmoil due to pressure from the countries around it.  One of our Czech guides explained to us how in the 1920's the Czech government anticipated the aggression that was coming from Germany at the end of the first World War, so began a 40 year project strengthening the border between the two countries  What they could not anticipate, however, would be Germany conquering Poland so quickly (our guide also explained how the German army attacked Poland with tanks, and the Polish army, instead of surrendering, counterattacked on horseback.  In his words, "they were so f**king defeated." - said with a smile.) and so Czech was not only invaded from the North through Poland, but also from the East by Slovakia, who saw an opportunity to seize a bit of land.  

WWII was a hard time in Prague, especially for the Jews.  They were moved into the ghetto, were stripped of everything they owned and after about two years, many were sent to Auschwitz.  After the war, not much improved - the Jewish museum we visited told of Jews being allowed to return home, only to find that their house had been 'given' to another family, and they had no ownership rights to ask that family to move out.  The anti-semetism continued all the way through the 1980's, until the Communist government fell and laws were finally passed ensuring equal rights.

Our host in Prague, was eleven when the revolution happened.  It was interesting to hear her talk about what she remembered, how school changed for her - before she was eleven she was required to learn Russian, and after the revolution, English.  She remembered the first time she was allowed to leave the country, and how it was exciting to see a store with many different kinds of soap.  She bought some and brought it back home to Prague for her mother as a gift.  What an interesting change that must have been.  Prague has certainly come a long way.  We spent hours and hours wandering through the old streets, noticing the small signs of the past governments.  We walked back and forth across the Charles Bridge, reading information about the saints that had their statues there.  Seems like it was really easy to become a saint a thousand years ago.  I spent a couple hours exploring the castle, the largest in Europe, and where 'Good King Wenceslas' is buried.

We went one night with our host to the park high above the city and sat in a beer garden with an amazing view of the city lights and the river.  We tried as many different kinds of beer that we could find, even taking an expensive microbrewery tour, where our guide very proudly explained why Czech beer was the best in the world.  "Much better than German."  We ate loads of pork - braised, smoked, roasted, cured...and potatoes, bread and cabbage.  Might not sound too exciting, but I think that the food in Prague might be my favorite yet.  The meat was always perfectly cooked and salty, the potatoes a little greasy and the cabbage nice and sour.  Perfect combination.

I was sad to leave the city.  Between our amazing host, the delicious food and drink, the beautiful architecture and the fascinating history, Prague could have kept my attention for a long time to come, and was the perfect place to energize my slightly low travel-battery.  Someday I'll come back and explore it further when I have a little bit more time.  Right now, Steph and I are on a train on our way to Austria, where we will meet up with one of the friends I made while traveling last year.  It's nice to be on a train again, though we unfortunately happened to sit next to a group of eight twenty-something American boys.  Luckily I'm carrying my ipod and a pair of sound-blocking earphones.  

-EC

Phew, it's been a good long while since I've written about our trip. Kind of easy to be lax about it since Erin is so diligent and entertaining. I should probably skip over to Prague up to now, but feel like I can't skip our two weeks in the UK, so indulge me...please.

On our way to Hamburg I remember telling Erin that we needed to slow down a bit. We had been traveling for 14 days and had changed locations 12 times. Every minute of internet we could get we spent planning our next transportation or lodging, or in the spare few moments quickly jotting down our experiences so as not to lose them in the jumble. We survived the next few days of Hamburg and Copenhagen trying hard to soak up the places we visited but with noticeable exhaustion, which may have tempered how we saw them.

Plane trips are one of the least enjoyable ways to travel. Nagging baggage restrictions, being carted around like sheep through security lines, dwindling services once aboard the planes, and the long distances from the cities where you actually want to be. But we made it to London, found our rental car agency and started our journey with Winnie, our (fiat) panda. The following weeks England and Scotland were a refreshing change of pace, if not necessarily slower.

It was serendipitously my brother Tony's birthday the day after we arrived so we changed our plans and stayed an extra day in London to celebrate with him and were even lucky enough to see my nephew Gabriel - which is a weird way to categorize him because he's closer in age to me than my brother. On his suggestion, we spent our first night on the road in Ullswater, Cumbria (in the lake district of England), a lovely transition to the hilly northern lands.

My Highlights of Scotland:
- Standing on Hadrian's wall (still in England)

- Watching the Scottish rugby team's last warmup game before the Rugby World Cup against Italy (I'm looking forward to watching the games while in Germany).

- The highland games in Crieff - I had gone as a child to the highland games in New Jersey, and it was so fun to see that while the games here were more comprehensive and homespun, the ones at home were not half bad.

-Tug-of-War was rad
- running and biking events were all-ages, and starting lines were staggered in some handicapped fashion i couldn't quite figure out.
- the heavyweight competition was all-day entertainment, especially the caber (log) toss.
- bagpipe and drum competition was always audible and fun
- also couldn't quite make out the rules of the dancing competition

- The Castles: We saw enormous royal castles (Edinburgh and Stirling), regional fortresses (Eilean Donan and Urquhart), and small, every-day castles (Corgarf and Hightower).

- Amazing landscapes.  The kind that pictures just can't capture. We drove through deep glens with high rocky mounts and rivers slicing through them; the sun set beyond the western shores of Skye; and cold, ominous clouds settling over Ben Nevis while we hiked down in a sunny valley.

- Distillery tours - Erin and I wish we could have gone to one place and just tried a bunch of different local whiskies, but it was nice to get a tour of a couple of them and learn how it's done.

- The Bruce Festival in Dunfermline. The festival itself was much smaller than the highland games, but there were also a few lectures I got to see such as one on the Norman "invasion" of Scotland (they might have fought to get to England, but by the time they reached Scotland it was basically invasion by invitation). The Son of the head of the Bruce clan spent his time dispelling the "Braveheart myth." If you've seen the movie, Robert the Bruce was portrayed as an opportunistic power-hungry wannabe. sheesh. That was not on any of the plaques at Stirling or Edinburgh castle. Anyway, in case anyone was worried, he made some really good arguments to dispel that stance. So I still feel proud to be a Bruce.

We covered a lot of ground in the country, driving on most of the major thoroughfares and or trying to bypass them for the scenic routes. Liking the highlands so much, we didn't spend much time in the cities (Aberdeen, Inverness and Glasgow), but that was fine by us, although the one time we actually wanted pub food in Glasgow, we couldn't find it at all, and had to settle for Italian food (not the first, and inevitably not our last, i'm sure).

One disappointment was that although in a rugby hotbed, we visited too early in the season for me to finally strap on my boots and referee any rugby, so that will have to wait until we visit Germany. So until then, I'll let my kit (rugby gear) take up space and weight in my bag, but thankfully not stink anything up.

- SB