Wow! It’s been 56 days since I’ve posted here! I suppose this is the nature of a travel blog, if you don’t travel, you can’t blog. The fact is, I haven’t had the time or money (mostly the latter) to do much travelling since Switzerland. With my rail pass about to expire, I took the plunge last weekend and made the long planned trip Prague.

Despite knowing I wanted to go to Prague, I never took the time to seriously plan my journey. In fact, I didn’t decide I was even going until 3 days before my departure. All I knew was I had a train ticket to get me there and back. Fortunately for me, I found someone to host me for the night. I also found someone to show me a bit of the city and hang out with while I was there. Love couchsurfing.org.

I selected a 0730 departure to maximize my time in the city. This would get me there by 1400, ample time to see some of the sights of central Prague. Regrettably, I lack the trust in myself to wake up in time to catch an early morning train. The only solution: Party all night and sleep on the train. That was the plan at least. The patrying went alright, and I wasn’t the only one to have a good time in the greater Mannheim area that night. While waiting for the tram to the main station at the break of dawn I witnessed at least one intoxicated girl face-plant onto the rail tracks (I chuckled, she was alright) and later a man passed out cold on a bench at the next stop. I envy the latter, at that point I really wanted to pass out cold.

On the train I had little success sleeping. Partially because I accidentally erased ALL of the music from my iPod, and partially because I had several train changes to make. (Advice: the trains may be late to a destination, but they will never be early. Hence, the time tables are reliable and you can set alarms to wake you so that you get off at your destination). Unfortunately my train to Nuenberg was late and I missed my bus connection. The next bus was in two hours, so I had time to kill. I wondered the city around the train station — very dejavu to a similar experience I had travelling from Hamburg to Dortmund and getting stuck in Hannover back in 2007. From the little I saw, it’s a nice town. There were some locals performing some traditional German dances that interested me, so I popped a squat and watched for a bit. Eventually the bus to Prague arrived, and I boarded for the 5 hour Journey.

Trumpet playing for the dancers in Nuenberg

Sleep finally? Nope. Still without music and on a bus full of noisy conversation, sleep just wasn’t going to happen. I tried though. Just as I was drifting off into a very bizarre yet blissful state of semi-consciousness our bus gets pulled over by German police. The women sitting next to me told me this was extremely unusual. They checked our passports and after 20 or 30 minutes, we were on our way. The rest of the way I chatted with the women seated by my side. She was Czech, a school inspector returning from a conference of sorts. Her opinion of Germany was very low, and her close-mindedness got on my nerves quite a bit. I decided to take her advice about the Czech Republic with a grain of salt. She kept me awake too. Damnit.  Anyways, this post is suppose to be about Prague, so on with it…

Prague is rich with history. In the center of the city, all the buildings are old and elegant. Some are decorated with vast amounts of gold, earning the city it’s nickname as “The Golden City”. It was also spared from much of the bombing during WWII, and thus is very well preserved. That being said, I spent my first day wondering the city, with only some direction as to where I should go (the important sights are really hard to miss). Everything is worth a second look, and with such limited time I really had to force myself to keep walking. Almost every corner I turned was a photographic opportunity, but the forces of nature were against me. The skies were flat and gray with no light available to provide contrast or saturation to the beautiful colors. ‘Tis is my luck.

Astrological Clock in the Old Town Square

After seeing some of the widely varied architecture,some of the most diverse in all of Europe, and stopping to watch the 12 apostles show their faces at the astronomical clock in the Old Town Square, I headed to Praha 2 to meet my couchsurfing host. We grabbed some traditional Czech cuisine (some pork, cabbage, sauerkraut, and of course potato dumplings) and a pint of local beer. Pivo, the Czech word for beer, was by far the most useful and only Czech word I learned.

The next day I met up with another couchsurfing friend. This time I explored the part of the city east of the river, the senate building, the famous castle, and other historical sights. Everything was really rather overwhelming. My time was limited, so I just strolled the streets and enjoyed the view. Speaking of views, the castle hill offers a spectacular one of the city. Me and my new friend spent the rest of my time in the city enjoying some delicious Czech beer and some more traditional food.  After that, it was time to make the walk back to the train station to catch my 10 hour night train back to Mannheim.

View of Prague from the Castle

My overall impression of the city is two fold. On the one hand, it’s absolutely beautiful, bar-none the most beautiful city I’ve seen in all of Europe (so far). Such beauty can hardly be kept a secret, and as a result, troves of tourist descend upon the city. I can’t say with any certainty if the people I saw were Czech or not. I was always told that the girls of Prague were beautiful, and I’ll confirm from what I saw, that the girls are indeed at least as beautiful as the city itself. My couchsurfing friend was most definitely beautiful.

I must be honest though, trying to summarize the city of Prague in a few paragraphs from only a 1.5 day visit does the city an enormous injustice. All I can really say is that Prague must be on anyone’s list of places to see in Europe. I, no doubt, will be back someday, maybe someday very soon. And hey, I have friends there now!

Thought these clouds were pretty cool on the train on the way back to Mannheim.

P.S. If you want to know what it’s like to sleep in one of the night train cars, imagine yourself sitting in a room with about 20 snoring men. You can bet I didn’t sleep much.

Inside the Cathedral at the Castle

First, I apologize to the one or two people who actually read this blog for the tardiness of this post. After missing four days of work to snowboard, my guilty conscious got the best of me and I actually did some work.

That aside, I must say that the second day on Parsenn was well worth the difficult conditions on the first day. The mountains were still shrouded in clouds at 8 AM but hope was making its appearance in the form of the occasional ray of sunlight pushing through the clouds and a patch of blue sky here and there. One sure sign that it would be a good day: the sound of avalanche artillery guns and explosives going off in the morning. I guess it’s Davos’ own little way of saying “get your lazy ass out of bed and come riding”.

Snow conditions:

• 27 cm of fresh snow on the mountain (after two weeks with no snowfall)
• 164 cm base
• 5 cm in the city made for a pretty morning around town
• Powder above treeline, wet slush below

Today I set out with my wonderful host Irene. We began our first run at the top in white-out conditions and made our way down a blue and beneath the clouds into Parsennhuete. From here we took a lift up to Gotschnagrat and took a blue and a red down on several runs back into or below Parsennhuete. During the second of these runs the clouds began to part revealing the dramatic surroundings. The steep slopes of Weissfluhgipfel, opposite of us, were clearly visible with dark, ominous looking clouds pushing over the spine of the mountain leading into Davos and the peak itself still shrouded. On these newly lit slopes, the tracks of some adventurous riders could clearly be scene making their way down through the virgin snow and into the ravine below. Next time, those will be my tracks. We T-bar’ed it up to Parsenhuete from here.  Whatever trace of dignity I had left from the previous days’ T-bar incidents I certainly lost this time. I crotched the bar, grabbed on, and let it start to pull me up the slope. Not five seconds later I had fallen and was sliding down back to the start. Unfortunately there were witnesses to my ineptitude on this day.

With white-out conditions persisting at the top we decided to do the red number 4 down to the Hoenweg mid-station a couple of times. I enjoy this run immensely. It’s somewhat challenging (especially with the moguls building up from all the carving), wide-open, and has a lot of steeps. Red 4 starts in a wide bowl between two of Parsenn’s peaks. This makes it ideal for an easy off-piste opportunity when snow conditions are good. With a foot of fresh snow on the ground, I decided to spend my second run making fresh tracks parallel to the piste. Departing the rapid lift, I made my way across the top of the bowl on toe-edge until I was a good 100m away from the piste with fresh snow and a steep descent awaiting. I dropped in and began carving the untouched snow — best feeling in the world.

After meeting back at the midstation, Irene and I made our way down into Davos via black number 9, a trail that begins steep and winds its way down through the treeline and right into town. Did a nice kicker off the piste into a massive powder stash and cartwheeled the landing. Further down the snow turned to slush, but it was steep enough to keep the boards moving. Steep sections in the slush were actually perfect for carving. Rode all the way into the city of Davos, did some grocery shopping, and was back on the train headed up the mountain in a matter of minutes. We had really liked the black we’d just completed, so we gave it another go. I was determined to nail the landing off the kicker and into the powder stash this time around. Irene went ahead of me to film my shenanigans. Gravity urging me down the slope, gaining speed, I lined up for my jump and prepared for takeoff. Hit the lip, went airborne, and before I knew it I was preparing for landing. Board parallel to the ground, knees bent, and …. touchdown, quickly followed by a buckling of the front of my board as it snapped in two leading to an immediate loss of stability and an uncontrolled cartwheel into the deep snow.

My board had paid the ultimate price. The board served me well, giving me the first and only two years of my snowboarding life. It also went out with a bang in one of the greatest snowboarding locals on earth; I really couldn’t have given it a better send-off if I tried. Now I’m shopping for a new board for next year, after all, I have front flips to learn!

We topped the day off with some apres-ski (post slope drinks and music), watched the sun sink behind the mountains, and enjoyed the antics of the boarders in the halfpipe and, of course, each other’s company. Davos: favorite place in Europe… so far…

March 17th, 2011

Red 47, 21, and 23 are visible on this map.

White

Woke up remarkably early for me, 6:45 to be precise, a feat I will likely never achieve in the real world. Greeting me through the window were the streaks of wet snow flakes falling from the sky. I took this as good news, as it surely meant the surrounding mountains were getting heaps of fresh snow — much needed after 2 weeks of no snow. Taking my hosts’ advice, I headed to Parssen for a day of snowboarding. Bought my ticket, hopped on a mountain train and made it to 2662m (8700ish ft) by 8:45. Joining some skiers from the UK (Jeff, Andy, Chris, and Jane, they had easy names, that’s why I remember) I headed out the doors at the top station ready to shred it up.

We took several steps out the door and wondered where the hell the pistes had gone. There was so much snow and wind, that visibility was reduced to 50 feet, at best. I was gun-ho and wanted to go, but the others persuaded me to refrain. Considering I knew nothing about the slopes here, it probably would have been a poor decision (we’ll get to those later!). Instead we opted to take a gondola down to a mid-station, and hope for better visibility. From there, we rode down a blue to another station and there I parted with my British friends. They were twice my age anyways, makes for awkward conversation.

Riding solo, I took a high-speed lift up to a lesser peak at 2200m (7200ish ft). I decided to start with a blue. Good choice. Turns out that the visibility here was equally bad and the wind was relentless. I strapped in and began my journey down the slope… or so I thought. Bending my knees and leaning back I initiated a carving turn. Nope. Hadn’t moved an inch. Apparently when the sky and snow are the same color, visibility is null, and the wind is blowing in your face, you’re mind totally fucks with you. I would have sworn I was moving, but looking down confirmed I had not made tracks in the snow. Anyways, I eventually did get myself in motion, and the journey down was a learning experience. First lesson of the day: keeping knees bent and constantly carving are really important when you haven’t a fucking clue what kind of terrain you’re going over.

F*** T-bars

I made the mistake of boarding to a station where the only way back up was by using T-bars. Having never used a T-bar before, I thought being dragged into a steep bowl in the swiss alps was a good place to learn. Attempt nummer eins: grabbed bar dragged me a few feet, fell over. Attempt nummer zwei: crotched that T-bar, but then thought I was suppose to sit down on the bar…. Attempt nummer drei: got that bar crotchd, kept legs straight, and let the blasted thing drag me up the mountain. All was going well, made it past a mid station, across a bridge, and then started up the bowl. Half way up, caught an edge, lost control, and lost my T-bar. I probably lost my dignity as well in my feeble attempt to get back on. Second lesson of the day: T-bars suck.

Red 47

My blind-snowboarding confidence was growing throughout the day as I traversed a variety of reds, but no blacks. In these conditions I accepted that blues were now reds and reds were now blacks. Glancing at my piste map, I found a trail from Gotschnagrat that hugs the steep north face of another peak and connects with some nice reds that lead down through the tree line and into the nearby city of Klosters. Eventually navigating to the head of this trail I was confronted with a decision. Visibility was even worse here, 30 feet maybe. Winds were 35 mph sustained. If I were with even one other person, it would have been an easy decision, but being alone changed the parameters significantly. What worried me more was that I hadn’t seen a single person enter Red 47. After much waiting, three skiiers sped past and into the void, I strapped in and followed. I never saw these skiiers again. In fact, I didn’t see much of anything. Red 47 is very narrow with the steep face of a mountain on the left, and a rather steep drop on the right. I decided it best to board from marker to marker on the LEFT side. Without visibility, too much speed, or one wrong move would have put me down the mountain in a hurry. Though I eventually made it off Red 47, I think it was a very stupid decision under the circumstances. No regrets.

Red 47, 21, and 23 are visible on this map.

Red 21 and 23 into Klosters

The red trails 21 and 23 are excellent. Starting from the top of the mountain, they make their way winding through the tree line all the way down into the city of Klosters (1000m). That’s almost a 5000 ft change in elevation. It went from snow, to mix, and eventually to rain. Visibility was MUCH better at the treeline and my confidence experienced a second life. At around 1150m in elevation, snow is non-existent off-piste and I found myself boarding through an evergreen forest as it might appear in the summer. At the very bottom the piste turns to slushy water and that was my cue to unstrap. Now in the city of Klosters, and a 45 minute wait for the next train into Davos, I decided to grab a beer and celebrate St. Pattys a little. Final lesson of the day: though jumps and speed were lacking on this day, the challenge of facing the unknown can be equally exhilarating.

Notes from previous day:

March 16th, 2011

Boarded an EC train from Mannheim with a final destination of Landquart. Though I spent the majority of this trip buried in a fantastic WWII code book I’d been reading (see Between Silk and Cyanide), I did make one important observation:

1. The girls in Switzerland are BEAUTIFUL. Stopping in Zurich, I looked up from my book and out the window only to be pleasantly greeted by the sight of a dozen beautiful young women. There’s something striking about these girls as well. They’re not your generic bimbo-ish blonde from the USA, instead they stand and walk with a hint of elegance. The blonde that sat across from mate it particulary difficult to continue reading my book for the remainder of my journey… but I won’t complain.

This last weekend was rather eventful. On Saturday I took a day trip to Heidelberg and on Sunday I enjoyed the festivities of Carnival in Mannheim.

Heidelberg

Heidelberg is one of those places that is so well preserved and stereotypical of an old German town that it has been ruined by tourism — at least that’s what a guide book would probably say. Preservation is rare in Germany as most cities were bombed flat to the ground during World War II. Heidelberg was spared from this bombing, maybe because it wasn’t of any industrial significance. The streets and buildings of old Heidelberg are generally at least a few centuries old. However, at street level, these buildings have been heavily commercialized into Starbucks’, american clothing chains, and a variety of tourist shops. Walking through Heidelberg’s old town is still worthwhile. The sights make for good photo opportunities and there is so much English being spoken, that German is certainly not necessary.

Heidelberg’s busy main drag.

Ah yes. German engineering.

Being literally a 10 minute regional train ride from Mannheim, it’s impossible not to visit this city no matter what a guide book might say about it’s touristy nature. The city lies in a steep river valley surrounded by what locals would undoubtedly call ‘mountains’. The peaks of these mountains are about 2000ft above sea level, and actually do look quite formidable from the valley floor. Perched on the flank of one such mountain and overlooking the old town lies the Heidelberg Castle. In both trips I’ve made to Heidelberg in the last 4 years, the castle has been undergoing restoration, and therefore scaffolding takes away from some of its beauty. Regardless, you can’t beat the view of the castle and town from the 300 year old arch bridge connecting the shores of the river Neckar.

Heidelberg's Castle from town square

As I was leaving the town, walking down the main street towards the tram stop, I suddenly heard the start of “Thriller” being played absurdly loud on a boom box nearby. At first I was very confused; it just did not fit the old town scenery. Then after thirty or so people broke out into the synchronized zombie dance I realized what was happening — yep, a flash mob (there’s no German translation). It was the first time I’ve been flash mobbed in my life. After that ridiculousness, I left town with the sad eyes of a tired dog bidding me farewell.

Sad dog eyes..

Carnival in Mannheim (Ahoy!)

Carnival: a religious festival that officially starts at 11:11 pm on November 11, that’s 11/11 at 11:11. The festivities really don’t begin until the Thursday before Ash Wednesday. I’ll spare you the origins and redirect you to the wiki: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnival#Germany.2C_Switzerland_and_Austria. From my experience, I’ve concluded it’s just an excuse for people to dress up and get DESTROYED drinking beer and other alcoholic beverages. No joke. Young and old dress up. In fact, if you’re not dressed up (i.e. yours truly) you stand out and you better expect people to give you crap. Your fault.

Green person in LU

On Sunday there was a parade in downtown Mannheim to celebrate the festivities. I went with my newly acquired French friend Thomas. At least he had a hat. I had no costume. Actually, scratch that, I was dressed as an American tourist. In any case things kicked-off at 1:11 though the parade didn’t actually start until 2:11. I’ll summarize the parade the best I can: candy, tissues, costumes, and ‘Ahoy!’. Costumes varied from 17th century sea-going ship captains to tree nymphs. Common theme? God, I don’t know. The only thing the different parade groups had in common was they all threw candy and/or tissues, and they all yelled “Ahoy!” a lot. There’s probably some religious origins to all of this, but it’s lost on me.

Oh, and they throw onions too..

The last float of the parade was what I will deem the party bus. Trailing the party bus were hundreds of spectators that, like Thomas and I, just joined in to become part of the parade and have our own little walking music party.

Whoa lady, not ok!!

Best moment: singing The Time (Dirty Bit) with hundreds of drunk Germans in the streets of Mannheim. Good stuff.

Whoa lady, not ok!!

Oh, and they throw onions too..

Green person in LU

Sad dog eyes..

Heidelberg’s Castle from town square

Ah yes. German engineering.

Heidelberg’s busy main drag.

A bird in the Newark airport

My luggage.

Along the Rhein in LU.

Use your imagination.

Tram in Mannheim.

View down a street in Mannheim.

Arrival in Deutschland was relatively painless. Quite literally a red-eye flight over the Atlantic. I actually remember catching a glimpse of myself in a bathroom mirror in the terminal and peering into tired blood-red orbs where my eyes should have been. In any case, I quite awkwardly carried my luggage (1 very large bag for my snowboard, boots, bindings, helmet and other items slung over my shoulder, 1 stuffed 65L framepack on my back, and 1 backpack brimming with my laptop, camera, and other electronics worn like a pregnant lady) to the Frankfurt airport train station.

Travel in Germany by train is bar-none the easiest way to get around. The process is so quick and painless, that even for long-distance journeys, rail travel is often better than air travel. The Intercity-Express (ICE) trains are Germany’s high-speed line, travelling between most major cities at speeds of 299 km/h (185 mph).  The trip to Mannheim from Frankfurt is short regardless taking no more than 20 minutes. My ticket was never checked on the short trip, though on longer trips, you can count on someone coming through periodically and checking to make sure you have a valid ticket. From Mannheim, I hopped across the Rhein by regional train, and eventually found the 8-story building which would be home for the next four months.

Ludwigshafen is where I live. It is essentially the portion of Mannheim West of the Rhein. It is an industrial-esque type town, bustling in the shadow of the world’s largest chemical company, BASF. In terms of its physical footprint on the landscape, BASF easily occupies the same area as the town of Ludwigshafen itself. Thus, Ludwigshafen is not a “romantic” city in any way. Nonetheless, its people, shops, and sights have their own special little treasures (that may be a stretch). The Germany people definitely care about the way they appear to others. Fashion seems to be of up most importance across all social levels. Hence, it’s not surprising that Ludwigshafen has an abundance of high-end clothing stores. Many of these are found in the recently built Rhein-Gallerie, very much like a shopping mall in the states. From the Rhein-Gallerie, one can enjoy a nice stroll along the Rhein, or alternatively head into the city center. The city center lies along the main tram lines, again, kudos to Germany for making transportation so easy. Like most city centers in industrialized regions, it’s home to a variety of bakeries, pharmacies, markets, and other lower-end stores.

Mannheim I am still seeking to explore. In the several expeditions I’ve made across the mighty Rhein, I’ve only seen glimpses of this city. In one notable crossing, I went to meet with a group of interns from BASF (none of which I’d met with or communicated with any any way prior). The destination was a small bar/restaurant called Tomate. From my earlier experiences, I’ve found Germany to be quite a safe place. However, getting to Tomate involved some maneuvering down some sketchy dark streets, quite removed from the lights and sounds of the other night life. Either this restaurant caters to locals or it is just happy being incognito. Aside from arriving fashionably early and having to endure several awkward minutes awaiting the others, the night was rather splendid. I met a number of fun people, mostly Germans, and learned some tidbits about the language and the culture (for example, never call a woman a Schlampe). I also got my first beer since arriving only two days earlier ( I know! It took two whole days!), a pint of Radeberger, a pilsner. I give it a B+ — not that my judgement carries any weight.

Wo soll ich gehen?

This weekend: Heidelberg

Next weekend: Grindelwald, Switzerland (for some snowboarding!)