Leaving Monument Valley

As previously mentioned, we settled in to take photos from our balcony. It took a while to get all my settings right. A lot of it was guess work since it was too dark for my camera to focus on anything. I had to adjust it manually. Some turned out ok, and the moon was at a quarter, so it could have been a bit darker to better show the stars. Even as is, you can make out the milky way in a few of them.

The following morning, I woke up early because the window curtains didn't really do much to block the sun. I hadn't planned on doing any sunrise photos since we got to bed a bit late and I fully planned on sleeping in. But since I was now up, I poked my head out to see what it looked like outside.

Not too shabby. I snapped a few pictures and attempted (unsuccessfully) to fall back asleep. We had to do a relatively early start anyway since we had almost four hours of driving to catch a flight back to LA early in the afternoon. We were going to get breakfast at the hotel restaurant, but we got mixed messages. They were full, but one lady said we could just get it to-go since it was a buffet. We were then promptly told by a different lady that it was dine-in only.

It's just as well. This place doesn't need any more of my money for very little payoff. Road - closed. Trails - closed. Dinner - bad service. Breakfast - unavailable. As you may know, Nicole and I like to collect ornaments at each of our travel stops. We went to the shop attached to the hotel. As hotel guests, we were given a $20 discount on any Navajo handicrafts. I jokingly said to Nicole, "You know an ornament is going to be like $40 since everyone is getting a coupon." I was wrong. They were $48. Luckily they were 50% off, so we ended up paying the more normal price of $4. Everything in the store was absurdly expensive. I don't think I can do summer traveling for a while. It's like constant price gouging and overcrowding. While the view from The View Hotel was amazing, the rest was kind of meh. For being a new hotel, the rooms managed to feel dated and minimalist. When you're virtually the only thing in town, none of that really matters. People will pay $300 to stay there for lack of other options. It is unfortunate, but I don't foresee any of that changing.

It may all seem like sour grapes, but I like to be a savvy traveler and hate feeling like I've been had. We drove toward Durango, Colorado by way of Four Corners, which (Surprise!) charged us $10 to see a geographically inaccurate monument of the border of the four southwestern states. Yeah, I'm no fun. The family behind us said they had planned on two hours at four corners. How? What could you possibly do? How many cheaply-made arrowheads can you buy? How many Instagram selfies can you take? Hey, at least people are traveling. I am a strong proponent of leaving one's house if you've read my prior entries. But I did notice one thing about the bulk of tourists -- they weren't American. I would say foreign visitors outnumbered Americans by a margin of at least 6 to 1. Primarily Europeans from places like Germany or France, but even a strong contingent of Japanese and sun-fearing Chinese going for hikes through the desert with their umbrellas deployed. I'm not sure what to make of it.

We had an uneventful flight home on American out of Durango, where we had lunch at an outdoor café, but had no time for anything else. We enjoyed the sites we saw, but felt the overall service and hospitality received was, well . . . basic.

United sent me an email after my flight to ask my thoughts on basic economy. I gave them. Avis inquired if I enjoyed my rental car that was both expensive and falling apart. And then Holiday Inn Express in Page, Arizona asked for my thoughts. I did an extensive survey on their website and gave them high marks on the cinnamon rolls (obviously). I never received anything from The View. I guess you don't need feedback when there's no competition. And perhaps that is the biggest lesson on this trip. People are more apt to like you if you can at least act like you care.

In the land of the Navajo

We made our second trip to Horseshoe Bend this morning after getting some breakfast. The lighting was better this time, though the crowds were not. As odd as it may sound, I'm beginning to hate summer trips. Everything is overcrowded, and I feel like we are being taken advantage of because there are such crowds at everything. Priced are high. Service is low. It's all pretty basic if you ask me. Anyway, it was a relatively short drive to Monument Valley albeit confusing in terms of states, time zones, and radio stations.

We crossed in and out of Utah multiple times. We also struggled to find a good radio station. For being in the middle of nowhere, we had no difficulty picking up 100 stations. They were all scratchy at best, but at one point we were somehow picking up a radio station from Bend, Oregon. That is over 900 miles away. I don't understand. When we got to Monument Valley, we checked in to the View Hotel. Unsurprisingly, it has a good view from the balcony.

It was grossly overpriced, but worth it I suppose. When one is a captive audience, and there's really only one hotel by the park, one doesn't really have a choice. We were going to drive the valley view road, which is an unpaved road encircling the main formations, we were informed that the road was closed . . . unless you were on a tour. So it wasn't really closed, just closed for people who wanted to do it for less than $75 per person. The Navajo ranger told us that she would be gone at 630pm and therefore wouldn't be able to turn people away, so we could come back at that time.

That gave us about four hours to kill, so we drove to Mexican Hat across the border in Utah. It wasn't anything to write home about, but something to do. I don't think it looked very Mexican hat-like if you ask me. This is presumably why you can no longer buy alcohol on Navajo land. After getting dinner at the one restaurant at the one hotel, we drove our Nissan Sentra to the unpaved road.

Despite the original lady going home, she was replaced by a far more annoying guy in a truck telling us the road was closed. Five minutes later, he left, so we thought about his instructions for a second and started driving down the road. We went about 1/2 a mile down. It wasn't any worse than other unpaved roads I've been on, but when there's money to be made . . . While we would have liked to continue, it was clear that regular folks weren't being welcomed. The tour trucks were giving us the stink eye even though other cars were driving the road as well.

We were able to at least get a little bit closer to the mittens. With the road closed, and the hiking trails closed, there is really just one view we could get. After we returned to the hotel, we settled in by the balcony, watched the colors change over the mittens as the sun went down and hope to get some good pictures of the stars when they come out.

The Perils of Being Basic

There are somewhere in the vicinity of 30 daily nonstop flights between LAX and Las Vegas. And as someone who attempts to go standby, one would think the odds were good. They were not, despite it being a Wednesday. There were an average of 15-20 standbys for any given flight. I didn't really want to chance it, so I used my discount to get a confirmed seat for Nicole and myself on a United flight. It was $36, which seemed like a good deal until we realized we had purchased a basic economy ticket, a new class of service that United is testing out. Nobody really seems to be on the same page as to what it entails. The TSA agent stopped me and wouldn't let me go to the TSA pre-check line with Nicole because mine said "Basic" at the top (and also TSA Pre-check, but apparently that didn't matter). The TSA employee told me I had to talk to a check-in agent to pay for my bag or some nonsense. I wasn't really in a calm mood after the TSA lady yelled out, "You basic!" Nicole was just as confused as me since she was allowed to go through with essentially the exact same ticket. So, why is TSA now getting involved with United check-in policies?

Clearly something is being lost in communicating the proper procedures, and that's what I said to the TSA lady after I eventually convinced her that I did not have to check in with someone else. Then at the gate, I was given the once over about my camera bag. My camera bag! It's like the size of a lunch box. She also made Nicole check her bag, which was about half the size of most of the other bags that were allowed in the overhead bins. Now I would normally stay out of an airline's business since I myself am an employee, but not today. I paid for those shitty tickets, so if United has any sense after all of their PR problems of this year, they will not try and emulate Spirit, the worst-rated airline in the country. The ticket may be cheap, but it comes at great cost.

I was in a fighting mood when we got to Vegas and I basically got ripped off on the one-way car rental. There was a hidden mileage fee. I mistakenly assumed all rentals had unlimited mileage. I guess that's my fault for being basic. The reason we were in Vegas is because I had promised I would take Nicole to see the Backstreet Boys perform. In retrospect, I probably sounded shady to my parents et al when I simply said, "Nicole and I have an event in Las Vegas." We did not get married at a drive-thru wedding chapel.

You see, it's very uncool to admit that I was going to see the Backstreet Boys. I do have to admit that some of their music is catchy, however. On nights when BSB aren't performing, Britney Spears has a residency. What year is it? When we woke up the following morning (completely sober) we made it a point to get out of Vegas as soon as possible. We got on the road and drove for over four hours until we got to Page, Arizona.

We made a brief pit stop in St George, Utah for lunch and didn't stop again until reaching Glen Canyon Dam just outside Page. There's nothing really in Page; it's just a jumping off point for other excursions. Antelope Canyon, the famous slot canyon with shafts of light coming through from above is booked solid, as is the "wave." It doesn't help that we are here at peak season. We went to see horseshoe bend, but we arrived late afternoon when the sun was directly in front of us. And while the dozens of tourists around us didn't seem to care, I told Nicole that we would have to come back tomorrow morning.

You see, this may look fine to most, but not to me. The detail in the rocks is completely lost and the sky is blown out. Unacceptable, obviously. Hopefully tomorrow involves less driving and more adventures.

The Balkans via "Porsche"

I can distinctly remember a moment 15 years ago when a friend of mine told me she had spent a summer in Croatia. I had just gotten out of a class on the Rebirth of Eastern Europe where we had been discussing such topics like the implosion of Yugoslavia and how Bosnia (at that point in time at least) was considered a failed state. I looked at my friend with a bewildered look as if to say, "Why would you want to go to such a place?" "Oh, no, it's not like that! It's beautiful there!," she said.

Fast forward to not so long ago, and there I was at the Dubrovnik airport, just outside the rental car office, trying to teach myself how to drive stick all over again. Thanks in part to its appearance on various tv shows and movies as well as its admission to the EU, tourism in Croatia has really taken off. The same could not be said about our rental car, as I was struggling to get it into reverse. It had plates on it indicating it had been purchased at a Porsche dealership, but it was actually just a small Volkswagen hatchback. That wouldn't stop me from referring to our car as "the Porsche" for the remainder of the trip. We had spent a long time determining how to get around the Balkans, as we wanted to do more than just Croatia. Our plan was to drive down to Montenegro, then northern Albania, and circle back through Montenegro into Bosnia, back to Croatia, and up to Slovenia where we planned to drop off the car. Phew. Why not just go north/south instead of all this circling? Well, at least from our experience, Albania seems to be a sticking point in rental car contracts and we couldn't figure out a way of dropping off or picking up in that country. Furthermore, none of the major international car rental companies were willing to let us do a point-to-point rental, but we found a small local Croatian company that would take care of all the paperwork and insurance needed to do all these border crossings.

I finally managed to get the "Porsche" into third gear and we rumbled along the coastal road toward Dubrovnik. We stayed north of the old town and enjoyed some pizza with olives (it's everywhere). We did eventually try to get into old town with a car, but this was easier said than done.

After spending what seemed like an hour looking for a spot, we gave up. With beads of sweat dripping off my forehead, we drove up winding narrow roads to a pull-off where we could at least see the fortress from above. Luckily Dubrovnik would have the most crowds we would see for the rest of the trip. We were told that there is a bus that goes to the old town from the ferry docks that were about 3 blocks from our hotel. Why take a bus when you have a car? Well, now we all know the answer.

We trudged along toward Montenegro. It took us about 45 minutes to cross the border since most of the lanes were closed. I do admit, the time gave me a lot of time to think about all the things that could go wrong. I have seen enough Bond movies to know that border crossings are always where things go south. I thought about our paperwork and whether or not it would be a problem. As we finally reached the checkpoint, a stern looking gentleman asked for my papers, stamped our passports, and without much emotion, waved us along. We were free!

As we puttered along, we saw a fairly large presence of the Montenegrin police. They would be standing on the side of the road, and wave over vehicles. I'm not sure if this was for speeding infractions or random searches. This happened about three times where the vehicle directly in front of us was flagged over. The "Porsche," did not arouse too much suspicion, thankfully. Our destination was Kotor, a coastal town with a walled center area like Dubrovnik. We had booked a small apartment in the center of the walled city, not unlike an AirBnb, where the owner assured us he would take care of our parking concerns. As we neared the town, we could see a cruise ship docked and people were everywhere. Traffic was heavy, but a man riding on a scooter in a pink polo shirt identified himself as the owner of the apartment and offered to lead us to a special parking lot. We had no reason not to believe him.

Once free of the "Porsche," we were able to explore the old town and stretch our legs. The streets were crowded initially, its cafés teeming with the seafarers from the cruise ship no doubt. But within a few hours, the town was emptying out, as the boat tooted its horn and left for some other port of call. Now it was just us, a few other tourists, and lots of cats. We enjoyed sitting in the main square by the Cathedral of St Tryphon while enjoying a couple of local Niksicko beers.

As evening led to night, we kept exploring the dark, narrow alleys of the old town and even walked on the city walls before returning to our apartment, where a free bottle of red wine was waiting for us.

On the next day, it was a short drive to Budva. Like Kotor, it also finds itself on the coast, but the feel is very different. Million dollar yachts lined the harbor area, and there didn't seem to be nearly as many cats. It had a more resort-like feel compared to the small, quaint, old-town vibe of Kotor.

None of this mattered as we were just making a brief stopover here on our way to Albania. If you research Albania online, you will most likely find articles saying that vehicle theft in Albania is rampant, the roads are in terrible condition, and the drivers are self-taught. At least from my experience, this is an outdated viewpoint. The roads were . . . pretty standard roads, the drivers seemed no worse or better than anywhere else we had been, and despite driving a "Porsche," nobody attempted to steal it. We spent the rest of the day in Shkodër. We first tried to visit Rozafa Castle, on the outskirts of the city, but we couldn't enter because they only take cash, which we did not have. We only had credit cards and Croatian Kuna. You see, despite these countries being in various stages of entry into the EU, they don't necessarily use the Euro, and we had to keep changing money each time we crossed a border. After heading into town for an ATM, we found a pedestrian-only street, the Rruga Kole Idromeno, which was flanked by the Al-Zamil mosque on one side and a statue of Mother Theresa on the other. Fun fact, she's from Albania. We went on a shopping frenzy on this street because everything was extremely cheap. We stayed at the Hotel Tradita, just blocks away, a very old wooden building with traditional Albanian rugs and decorations. They made dinner for us, which was quite a feast. Our entire table was covered with everything from olives and goat cheese to pasta, flatbreads, stuffed potatoes, and more. I think our bill for everything including two glasses of wine for two people was something like $12. Breakfast the next morning was more of the same, an entire table covered with food, but we couldn't sit around too long because we had a long day of driving ahead of us.

We would have to cross the entire country of Montenegro (at least it's small), and then into Bosnia to the town of Mostar. Our progress was steady until we reached the border with Bosnia. The gates were down and every car around us was from a different country and we all spoke different languages. Nevertheless, it seemed that the consensus was that they were repaving the road and it would open at 2:00pm. We had about 90 mins to kill. At precisely 2:00, cars started honking their horns and eventually a Volvo from the back of the line accelerated at full speed toward the gates, which were taken down at last minute. We all followed suit. Upon crossing into Bosnia, I was a bit confused. We were greeted not by a sign welcoming us to Bosnia-Herzegovina, but rather Republika Sprska, which is like an autonomous part of Bosnia with its own flag. It was confusing, but research the political history of Bosnia, and you will find yourself even more confused. After driving through the countryside for a while, we eventually reached Mostar and settled into our room overlooking the Stari Most (literally Old Bridge). The "Old Bridge," is in fact a very new bridge on account of the old old bridge being destroyed back in the 90s during the war. Other than the bullet holes in some buildings and a few abandoned structures without roofs, one doesn't really feel like there was a bloody war fought on these river banks. Mostar has rebuilt and transformed back into a very cute old town lined with shops and restaurants. I enjoyed a large helping of pljeskavica for dinner, a sort of spiced pork, beef, and lamb patty served with fries and a pita. My travel companion looked at me with a perplexity like someone seeing a Turducken for the first time. It was very tasty, but salty.

When we left Mostar the following morning, we were handed another free bottle of wine on our way out. Not too shabby. We made a stop at Kravice Falls, a collection of waterfalls up in the mountains. As we stood there snapping pictures and taking in the natural beauty, we had to pause to remind ourselves that we were in Bosnia-Herzegovina, a place that people have so long associated with war that something as scenic as these waterfalls is easily overlooked.

Our next border crossing through the mountains into Croatia was easy, and within an hour we were in Split on the Dalmatian coast. The general theme in this area is that parking is a premium. Cars were parked on the sidewalks, on boulevards, or anywhere there was a flat piece of land. We luckily had our own garage attached to an AirBnB and didn't have to leave the "Porsche" out in the open in this bustling city. We also had a washer/dryer unit in our temporary home which was crucial. We walked through the old streets of Split and were able to see a well-preserved Roman city now playing host to a vibrant night life scene. We visited the Diocletian Palace, and enjoyed walking the narrow alleys and backstreets of this old city.

The following morning, we discovered that the dryer portion of the washer/dryer was not entirely functional, so we draped all of our clothes over the backseat of the "Porsche" as we continued our drive into Northern Croatia. We didn't stop until reaching Plitvice Lakes National Park. You may have seen pictures of this wonder adorning the walls of your dentist office. It is very zen. The park is divided into upper and lower lakes. We had arrived later in the afternoon, so we would only have time to do one section before the park closed. Our guesthouse owner suggested the upper lakes, but mentioned that most people do the lower ones. The lower lakes have bigger waterfalls, which seems to be the big draw. The upper lakes have smaller cascades, but we found this to be more appealing. The crowds were almost nonexistent. It probably didn't hurt that it was cold and raining. The pathway itself was pretty remarkable. We were enjoying our leisurely 5km hike along the wooden pathway, stopping quite often to take pictures. The only thing that kept us moving a little faster was the need to catch a small ferry across the lake back to the visitor center before they stopped operating. I have met many people who have been to Croatia, but very few go to Plitvice. I cannot recommend it enough.

When we departed the following day for Slovenia, the architecture rapidly changed from Mediterranean with red and orange roofs to more Alpine and wooden construction. Driving in Slovenia requires vignettes, or small stickers that we had to place in our windshield. It cost about 15 EUR and was valid for a week. Our destination was Bled, a resort town in the foothills of the mountains and famous for its church on an island in the middle of the lake. The shops around the lake were decidedly upscale and marked a stark departure from the prices we saw in Albania or Bosnia. We did, however, enjoy a piece of Bled Cake, a cream cake with a custard filling.

We then walked to the top of Bled Castle, which towers high over the lake. Even if you have no interest in the castle itself, I recommend it just for the overlook because it offers some of the best views of the island and church below.

Slovenia was our last stop on our Balkan road trip before switching to rail and heading into Austria and finally Munich. We drove the "Porsche" for its last leg to the Ljubljana train station. Miraculously, a representative of the rental company was there to meet us. Either that, or we were victims of the friendliest carjacking of all time.

The Balkan countries are best seen by car. There are certainly some added stresses associated with this, as you might have gathered. We got lost a few times, had to worry about border crossings and parking spots, but the flexibility a car can afford cannot be matched. I feel as though we barely scratched the surface of the Balkans, as our trip was a bit of a whirlwind. If I were to do it again, I might narrow the scope and do less driving. The Balkans have a lot to offer and each country has its own unique culture and feel, so it was hard to turn down visiting another country if we just drove a little bit longer.

The best part was learning new things about these places that don't get visited at the scale of other destinations in Europe. I would love to return and explore more of the Balkans that we didn't see such as Serbia, Kosovo, and Macedonia. And while driving may be the best way to get around, it's the time spent not driving that is the most important.

Pausing to Reflect on 7 Countries Visited

So many countries, so little time. That's an important thing to note because my analysis on these places is based on just a wee morsel. Would you want the United States to be judged by Fresno alone? I doubt it...even if you live in Fresno. I would have used New Jersey in my example, but they get really touchy about criticism. Anyway, the difficult thing in all this is trying to summarize all of these countries that are still quite unique.

While our road trip was essentially a drive through New England in terms of distance, the differences were very discernible. Imagine Vermont and New Hampshire had fought a war against each other 20 years prior and Maine was split into two governing bodies -- one for people wearing L.L. Bean and the other for the cows. Now what if a cow wants to wear L.L. Bean? This is the complexity of the situation in a nutshell. Some things just aren't logical, yet the whole structure seems to be holding itself together, albeit delicately.

We began in Dubrovnik, Croatia's most popular tourist destination. We couldn't find a place to park. The hotel's parking lot was also a car wash. Space was at a premium. We were never able to set foot inside the old town, but judging by the masses and masses of crowds everywhere around it, perhaps we didn't want to. When I told people I was going to the Balkans, I didn't get much of a response. I would follow up by saying, "You know, like Croatia and so on." The general consensus is that people have heard good things about Croatia. You see, it is becoming very popular (and it shows). It's like a less expensive version of Italy. It too has Roman ruins, similar climate, and pretty much the same food. I was getting tired of Margherita Pizza.

As we crossed into Montenegro, the mountains were still on our left, and the sea to our right, but a few things had changed.




To start with, it was a bit more tense. Montenegrin cops were more ubiquitous than the Wisconsin Highway Patrol on Labor Day Weekend. I had read that they may pull you over for an offense they make up. Fortunately Montenegrin drivers look out for each other and flash their lights to warn each other. That being said, every time I encountered Montenegrin's finest, the car directly in front of me got flagged over. This happened at least three times where the car directly in front got waved over and I drove off trying to look as innocent as possible.

We visited Kotor and Budva, both quaint looking towns on the water. Days later we drove the span of the country including Podgorica, the capital. I think what surprised me the most is the volume of tourists in both Kotor and Budva. These were places I really knew nothing about, yet there were two cruise ships docked in the bay and buses for days. Now, it should be noted that most of these tourists appeared to be primarily European as this is not yet in America's sights. It wouldn't surprise me if that changes soon once people realize the scenery is just as nice as Croatia's...and Montenegro accepts the Euro.

Our next stop was somewhat contentious and we debated whether we should even go. Albania has a bad reputation. Car theft. Muggings.  Weapons and drug trafficking just to name a few. Though Shkodër was just across the border, it was apparent that Albania was not as wealthy as its neighbor. Our road was in good condition, but as of a few years ago, the centerline was allegedly marked with large rocks. Traffic wasn't nearly as bad as I had built it up to be in my head, but it wasn't completely relaxing.

We barely scratched the surface of Albania, but we did learn it's not so scary. We also learned that there's not much of a tourism industry. We were, without doubt, the only Americans. That aspect was satisfying. It was a break from the crowds we had seen in Croatia and Montenegro. Albania is predominantly muslim, but you will not encounter hijabs or other traditionally muslim apparel. This is a holdover from the communist era and it's simply one more way that assumptions were crushed by seeing it with our own eyes.

I am not really sure what I expected from our next stop -- Bosnia & Herzegovina. When we were stalled near the border crossing for almost two hours, people were wandering off the road to take pictures, pee, kill time, and I recall reading that it is unwise to wander off the main road as there could still be landmines. I found that evidence of the war wasn't necessarily all that obvious unless you knew what to look for. This building in Mostar was victim to shelling during the siege, but this kind of thing could also be found in Detroit. But if you see the skeleton of a building in Mostar, it's because it was destroyed by military action.

Such remnants are hidden behind the robust cafe and shopping scene that has taken over the riverbanks. Yet, if you look closely, there are bullet holes in the sides of most of the buildings. It's also important to note that Bosnia is a majority-muslim country, and this is where it gets confusing. Remember when I said the border crossing into "Bosnia" actually said, "Republika Sprksa"? Bosnia is still divided on ethnic lines and we crossed at the Serb zone. Imagine if LA County was divided like this.

It seems backward and counter-productive. Shouldn't there be an attempt to get them to engage with each other and not put up arbitrary borders that may further the divide that led to war in the first place? Intermarriage between the groups is close to nonexistent whereas it was fairly common prior to the war. Each region has some power, yet the country as a whole has a weak governing body. Somehow this has held together for the last 20 years. And perhaps it has more to do with the war still being in recent memory.

In a region that saw genocide, starvation, and mass rape, it's easy to see why they might be hesitant to make policies that could lead to heightened tensions. Yet as the years go by, that collective memory will fade. A new generation who have only interacted with people who look and think like them will take over the reigns and then what? Let's hope cooler heads continue to prevail. It is said that 60% of the residents of Sarajevo suffer from some form of PTSD. If you look up before and after pictures of Sarajevo or Mostar, it's actually quite shocking. Mostar has done an incredible job of rebuilding in a relatively short span of time.

People were very friendly and I found myself pleasantly surprised at what Bosnia had to offer. Who knew there was a gorgeous waterfall in the mountains of Bosnia, not far from where U.S. pilot Scott O'Grady ejected after being shot down by a missile. When all you read about Bosnia is related to the war, the Dayton peace accord, or UN peacekeeping missions, it's easy to see how these things fall between the cracks.

As we left Bosnia to reenter Croatia, it was like we had entered a different world. The snaky mountain road we had been following through Bosnia turned into a six-lane freeway in Croatia. Within an hour, we were in Split. Compared to where we had been, it was almost uncomfortable to me. The traffic was insane, and people were everywhere. It was a very bustling place. The hand-made crafts of Mostar were replaced with high-end retail shops in Split. It was a very different vibe, and it took some getting used to despite the short distance we had driven.

As we continued north through Plitvice and ultimately Slovenia, things were starting to change. It was as if a normalization was taking place. The buildings in Slovenia looked more alpine and Germanic. Lake Bled was a very popular resort area, which I don't think either Nicole or I expected. We might as well have been at Vail or Aspen. We were now wearing jackets and hats. The temps would only get colder as we continued our journey north into Salzburg, Austria.



Salzburg was familiar for a couple reasons. One, I had technically been here before, albeit 17 years ago. Two, Salzburg signaled the beginning of what we might call the "safety zone." We didn't have to really think about what we ate or drank. No more tense border stops or fear of being pulled over by unscrupulous cops. Our biggest worry was where to get dinner. As the prices shot up about 200%, this was a bit unwelcoming. Yes, now that we were back in something familiar, we felt utterly drained. Sure Salzburg and then Munich are well-known European cities with a quaint old town, booming economy, and thriving tourism industry, but something was missing. That excited feeling of discovery faded away. People didn't seem as welcoming or friendly. I was afraid I was becoming a huge buzz kill. So, over a pint liter of beer I asked Nicole to rank the places we had visited. Her list essentially matched mine. Bosnia and Montenegro filled out the top with Austria and Germany bringing up the rear.

Maybe it was the order we planned the trip. Maybe it was too much of a contrast at the end. Or maybe, just maybe, it is evidence that we are just travelers seeking to lead, not follow. Traveling is about discovering new places, trying new foods, meeting new people. And I think that's something the cruise ships and tour buses miss out on. Everything is comfortable and taken care of. It's easy. They don't have to worry about driving stick on mountain roads while driving by police checkpoints and praying that there's at least one parking spot when we get to the hotel. I thought I would look forward to dropping off the car, but it was also like I was surrendering our control of the trip. We were now at the mercy of angry train employees and faulty ticket kiosks. When I had a few choice words for the Deutsch-Bahn touch-screen while trying to get train tickets to the airport, the gentleman next to me chuckled and said, "Welcome to Germany." What the kids would call "first-world problems" seemed to plague us at the end of our trip. We seemed more at home dodging oblivious drivers and trying to follow a man riding a scooter in a pink shirt.

It is becoming increasingly clear that we should be wearing adventuring hats more often. And this is not to bash Salzburg or Munich, but perhaps they should have been a separate trip. Our mindset was elsewhere. We were explorers in uncharted territories. And yes, there were still a good amount of tourists in most of the places we went to, but for us, as new travelers to the region, we were seeing something new. This was getting off the beaten path, seeing places most Americans wouldn't ever consider. Just be careful how far you stray from that beaten path. There could be land mines.

The Final Day

After a good night's rest, we found some pastries at the train station and rode out to Dachau, where we transferred to a bus that took us to the concentration camp and memorial. I had technically been here before when I was about 14. But while I obviously knew about the holocaust, I didn't really understand the full impact of what happened at the camp. This time I spent more time reading the captions in the museum and at the various sites around the camp.

I do also remember that last time I was here, it was a warm and sunny day. Not this time. It was another unseasonably cold and dreary may day. This contributed to the somber mood in the air. It wasn't exactly an uplifting thing to do, but a thing that one must do. It was good to get a timeline on the process as well. It took the Nazis about six years before things really got out of hand with the executions and attempted eradication of entire peoples. So, it was a reminder that this was not an overnight change. First political opponents, then criminals, then the Jews, prisoners of occupied territories, Slavs, etc. I imagine most people were like, "Well it's disconcerting, but I understand we need to round up political opponents for the safety and security of the German people." Then by the time you get to the Jews and other groups, they were just combined or equated with criminals in people's minds. All in the interest of bringing security back to Germany and a return to "old German values." Sound familiar? After all, one of the captions stated that discriminating against Jews was a centuries old tradition. I guess those were the values they wanted to fall back on.

What I found to be the most interesting is that many of the SS soldiers were sent to reeducation classes by the Americans after they were captured, but it was generally regarded as unsuccessful. Somehow, the majority of the SS guards were incapable of understanding or feeling any guilt about what they had done. How? Why? I cannot wrap my head around that. I guess if you're angry enough and can only feel hate... It's just shocking to me that any human could reach that point, though.

Enough for depressing stuff, though. One only needs to keep up with current events for that. After returning to Munich, we got off the train at Marianplatz, or the old city area. The sun was now trying to show through the clouds and it almost felt like 55. Nicole got a pretzel ornament for our non-existent Christmas tree and I ate a pretzel sandwich for lunch along with some kind of pastry. We walked around the area for a while before going up to the Englischer Park just north of the Marianplatz area. It is mostly just a green area with some walkways, but we went there for one specific reason.

River surfing. It sounds like a joke, but there is some kind of berm or something creating a single continuous stationary wave just beyond a bridge by the park. We saw a group of about 8 surfers with short boards taking turns riding the wave. As you can see by the full-body wetsuit worn by this woman in the picture, the water must not have been very warm. It was quite entertaining to watch them all. Some were better than others. The method for catching the wave is essentially just to jump right onto it. There was no paddle-in or pop-up method.

You're either riding the wave the second you hit the water or you're flailing downstream in a rolling ball of surfboard, body, and dirty water. I consider myself to have good balance and am generally fairly athletic, but I'm pretty sure this is something I would not be good at. Later in the evening, we had our final dinner of schnitzel and sausages with a pair of beers. Whereas it's quaint and bustling in the Marianplatz area, the neighborhood by our hotel consists of gambling parlors and strip clubs. I think as a general conclusion, I'm not too keen on Munich. There's something off about it. And what's the deal with this weather? It might as well be February.

Washout

We had initially planned to go to Hellbrunn Palace, just outside the city, but we woke to the sound of heavy rains. As most of the activities at Hellbrunn involved walking outside and in park areas, we decided to nix the idea. We ended up taking an earlier train to Munich since there was no point sitting in a hotel room in Salzburg during a rainstorm, so we arrived around 3pm at our AirBnB. It was decently located, nicely decorated with storm trooper art, but also smelled strongly of cigarette smoke. It was supposed to be non-smoking.

We ultimately ended up bailing on it since Nicole was getting congested and my eyes were drying up. It sounds like the guy will refund our money as we got a hotel near the main train station. To comfort ourselves, we went out for drinks at the Hofbrauhaus, walked in for a second to see all the young rowdy kids drinking and being loud, did an about-face and tried to find another beer hall. We went into a place called Ratskeller, but we were the youngest people there by at least 40 years. There must have been some sort of senior discount.

Long story, short? We ended up back at the Hofbrauhaus. We had some sausages, potato salad, beers, and a pretzels. We essentially closed the Hofbrauhaus and outlasted all the amateur American tourists. It was a struggle trying to find what to order since we had actually been to a sort of Hofbrauhaus - lite earlier in the day near Max Weber Platz. We tried to interpret menus that were in all German amongst a crowd that was all German. We ended up with a meat and cheese platter. Unsurprisingly, it is not what we thought we had ordered.

Then, once we got to the real Hofbrauhaus, we found ourselves again trying to interpret a German menu. We later acquired another menu that was in . . . Italian. It has been an interesting day, and not necessarily a grand one. Traveling, as they say, is as much about the experience as it is about sites and scenery. While my pictures may not be as profound today, I think we can all appreciate this picture of lil' Cole eating a big pretzel.

Allegedly the rain is supposed to stop some time tomorrow, so we can actually venture out and explore. If Munich wants to improve its reputation, it needs to stop this rain nonsense. It was downright miserable. I would have thought it was February based on how cold and dreary it is. Gluck Auf.