Brendan Doms

Our first stop of the day was the coastal ruins of Caesarea, which was an ancient trading port and administrative center of some importance, given its convenient location. And yes, it's named after an actual Caesar. In this case it was named by Herod (yes, that Herod) for Caesar Augustus. The Roman influence on this part of the world is there for anyone to see; with their contributions to names and architecture, it's obvious they held the land for a long time.

The hippodrome in Caesarea. It's a horse and chariot racing arena. Like ancient NASCAR with animals.

Perhaps one of the most impressive - and intact - ancient wonders we saw on the trip was the Roman aqueduct right outside Caesarea. It stretched unbroken for miles, just to carry fresh water. This early feat of engineering may not seem like much compared to our modern water systems, but considering its construction date of several millennia ago, it's awe-inspiring.

The Roman aqueduct leading to Caesarea. It goes on as far as the eye can see.

During the bus ride to our next destination we learned about the Druze, an ethnic and religious group that lived in the hills we were driving through. Considering the history of Israel it maybe shouldn't have been surprising to find yet another religion, but for me it was discovering a whole culture I hadn't known about. That's one of the reasons I love travelling internationally: there's constant learning you just can't get any other way.

We ascended the peak of Mt. Carmel for some birds-eye panoramic views of the nearby hills and valleys. Atop the mountain is a monastery for an eponymous Catholic order, the Carmelites. This was just the first of many Catholic buildings and grounds we would visit, as they seem to have acquired the land for many sacred sites. It made me wonder if the Roman influence was really as ancient as I thought.

Next we went to Megiddo, ruins of a stone city on a hill. It's important as a historical and archaeological site - indeed, it's an official World Heritage Site - simply because of how old it is. There are some 26 or more layers of civilization to be unearthed there. But it's also notable because some believe it will be the site of a military engagement during the apocalypse. The Greek term for this is comes directly from the Hebrew for "Mount of Megiddo" ("Har Megiddo") and should be recognizable to anyone familiar with the modern English vernacular: Armageddon.

Literally Armageddon.

On to Nazareth, an incredibly tourist-driven, cramped city on a hillside. There were loud billboards and hawkers of street wares. We were ushered into a life-sized model village meant to recreate what life was like two thousand years ago. Unremarkably, life back then consisted largely of grueling, repetitive agricultural work. We saw olive trees, a human foot-powered stone wine press, and live animals including goats, sheep, and donkeys.

An ancient wine press. One or two people would stomp on the grapes in the flat area, and you can see the drainage canal where the juice would flow down, separated from the skins and seeds.

For me, the highlight of this fake village was the fully functional olive press. We were even given a live demonstration of how it worked: it's a mill structure that both turns a millstone and raises and lowers a wooden beam press, but powered by a human and/or donkey instead of water. And we learned that olive oil was not just used for cooking, but also as fuel for lamps, in cosmetics, in medicine, and in religious rituals. Olive oil was so important not just to ancient Israel, but to ancient Greece, Rome, and the entire Mediterranean, that the English word for "oil" can actually trace its roots back to the Latin and Greek for "olive." We also learned that the modern prefix of "virgin" simply means that the olives have been mechanically pressed only, without the use of chemicals, which means that all of the olive oil produced in a village like this would be labelled "virgin" if sold today. As for why the machine itself is required when the wine press just used human feet, the explanation was simple: feet break the seeds inside what they step on. For grapes and wine, this is fine. For olives the seeds are extremely acidic and crushing them ruins the oil's flavor.

An excellent example of an olive tree. Useful for a great many things, but as you can see, not lumber.

When the sun set we went inside a diamond factory for a quick tour. Caprice diamonds told us that Israel specializes in cutting and polishing diamonds. They did have some great looking merchandise, but it was obviously all very expensive.

After that we finally arrived at our home for the next couple nights, the Gai Beach Hotel in Tiberius. Yes, it's another city named after a Roman Emperor. The hotel itself was large and accommodating. It was a great place to crash after a long day.

Getting to Tel Aviv was the first hard part of the trip. United delayed us two hours on the ground because some of the seat-back screens didn't work. I would've just reimbursed people in those seats and gotten the plane moving. What a waste of time. While they were restarting the system 17 times - because clearly that's the only way to fix software problems - I got a glimpse of what they were running. A version of Linux from nearly a decade ago (specifically, the Red Hat build from November 19, 2004). Some poor United employee probably threw this system together years ago and no one has updated it since. No wonder there were issues.

Once our 50-person group made it through a 12 hour plane ride and customs we met our tour guide and headed out on what would become an all too familiar bus for downtown Tel Aviv. Freshly-paved roads and skyscrapers were our first sights.

We were welcomed into Tel Aviv with this friendly graffiti on the side of the road.

But we quickly maneuvered our way slightly out of town to the much older city of Jaffa. There stone and small pedestrian paths dominated. It also afforded great views of the city from its elevated position across the water.

This is what Tel Aviv and its coast look like from Jaffa.

This is an old stone gate on one of the small side streets of Jaffa. I don't know what it says, but I love the way it looks.

We had our first meal in the busy marketplace of Jaffa. It was a falafel lunch with four different "salads" to add as a topping. Just like the bus, I quickly became too familiar with falafel, as it was consistently one of the only choices for lunch.

This company's branding is so good that I bet you can tell what it is even though you can't read the language.

We eventually crossed back through the city to a resort town to the North called Netanya. There we watched the sun set on the Mediterranean as the sea lapped at the shore a hundred feet below the bluff our hotel was on. It was a quiet, relaxing place to spend our first night in country.

Sunset on the Mediterranean. Doin' it right.

Time comes and goes and we keep moving forward, using terms like before and after, yesterday and today, old and new. One city embodies that in its form, function, and name. That city is Tel Aviv, Israel.

"Tel" is a word describing a mound, typically built up by humans over time. It implies age, ancient secrets buried deep, soil and earth. It is essentially, just an old, artificial hill. "Aviv" means spring and new life. So you could interpret the name of this city to simply mean "Old and New". As you'll see, the city and the country are both exactly that. It's land that's been lived in for thousands of years, but with modern conveniences and sensibilities.

Indeed, even some of the issues that still exist there today can trace their roots back very far in time. Fortunately, when I left for this tourist trip to Israel last fall the level of violence occurring there was nothing like it is now. There was high security, and sometimes a feeling of unease, but I felt safe the entire time.

It was a fun, extremely educational adventure. And although I'm writing this many months later, these posts are based on extensive notes and emails I wrote while I was there. This travel blog has always been part recording and part reflection, and this case is no different.

So in the coming days and weeks I'll be posting my thoughts and experiences from that trip. I hope you can join me for the ride.

Warsaw is the best example of a true metropolis I've encountered on this trip: the skyline was taller, the roads wider, and - understandably - most things had a style that belongs in the last half century. It almost felt like an American city. Cars dominated quickly moving freeways, and it was hard to walk around some parts of town due to lack of public transportation access or good pedestrian thoroughfares.

Not everything was new though. We spent one of our first nights in the aptly named historic district of Old Town, which was more pedestrian friendly, and also much more touristy than other areas. There were large crowds, lots of outdoor seating, and several street performers throughout the area.

Crowds in Warsaw's Old Town.

Of course, Warsaw is huge geographically, so there are a many different parts of town. We probably took more taxis to and fro in Warsaw than anywhere else. The positive side effect to this large size is that Warsaw is home to some gigantic city parks as a result. We had dinner in a park at a place called Pub Lolek, where they cook meat and potatoes outside on a charcoal grill. Again, it seemed like something I was more likely to find in the US than in Europe.

The parks also boast statues to famous figures that the Polish people adore. Some subjects made sense, like the famous Polish-born Romantic composer Frédéric Chopin.

A statue of Chopin in the Warsaw Łazienki Park.

But some utterly surprised me. Like the multiple statues of Ronald Reagan that we encountered. The first time I saw one it left me flabbergasted. Why would you have a statue to someone who isn't even from your country?

The answer is maybe obvious in a historical context: the Polish people see Reagan as the driving force behind The Wall falling down and therefore Poland eventually regaining its independence. However, I find this ironic, as Poland is sometimes referred to as the country "the West forgot." It was pretty much abandoned at the end of World War II to the Soviets without a fight. And when The Wall finally did fall, Poland did not fully break free of communism until 1997 - that's two Presidents after Reagan. That means that despite being the first country to be invaded in 1939, Poland was the last to regain its independence. By comparison, France was invaded in 1940, but was under its own control again by 1946.

But enough of history. In modern times, we had a wedding to attend!

We met up with some of the wedding party (bride and groom included) as well as the other international travelers the night before. This was a great opportunity to see the young, hip part of town where people would go out. Bars and restaurants featuring beer and cocktails ran the entire length of several blocks.

The wedding itself was held in a small church outside of town. It was a traditional Catholic service. And although I've been to several of those in the US I can't remember the prayers ever being sung before. It reminded me very much of the Muslim prayers when I was in Egypt.

The reception was held even farther out into the suburbs at a place called Warszawianka Hotel Wellness & Spa. This was a fully-equipped family-oriented resort. Indoor water park. Its own campus with playgrounds. Boat rental.

We danced and dined the night away in the yacht club. The biggest shocks for my first Polish wedding were probably two fold: the random singing of some song called "Sto lat," which means "one hundred years," and the fact that shot glosses were included with every place setting and bottles of vodka were at every table, to be refilled by wait staff the instant they ran low.

The yacht club where the wedding reception was held.

There were some genuinely good ideas for any wedding, particularly the photo booth with props and the nearby scrapbook where the photos were pasted in immediately after being taken. And there was a great atmosphere of just having fun and celebrating, the seriousness having been consumed in its entirety at the ceremony. We took full advantage. It wasn't until the sun was threatening to rise that we retreated outside into a rain we hadn't noticed was there.

Krakow was an extremely pleasant surprise for me. Despite it being the second largest city in Poland, I had never heard of it before this trip.

It's also one of the older cities I've been to in non-Mediterranean Europe, since a town has existed there for some 1400 years. The feeling of age has stayed intact, and among all the European cities I've visited, Krakow felt the most truly medieval.

There are several good reasons for this, not the least of which is that the center of the city, Main Market Square, and much of the surrounding area, is cobblestone streets limited to only pedestrian and equestrian traffic. That's right, for most of my time in Krakow I saw more horses than I did cars.

The sun sets on the bazaar Cloth Hall in the center of Main Market Square.

There's also Wawel Castle just a short walk from the square. When we toured it we paid extra to see a gallery of preserved medieval weapons and armor. It was like a tiny museum set into the castle itself, with relics ranging from cutlasses and crossbows to muskets and canons.

Wawel Castle from below.

At the castle exterior there's even a fire-breathing dragon statue, called Smok (which looks and sounds like the English "smoke" but I'm told just means "dragon" - I do wonder if the two etymologies are related though). It was fun to see schoolchildren on a field trip yelling in delight every time the fire came shooting out of the dragon's mouth.

Smok the fire-breathing dragon, just outside the Wawel Castle walls.

Within the castle walls there's also the sesquipedalian-named Royal Archcathedral Basilica of Saints Stanislaus and Wenceslaus, which serves as the Polish national sanctuary, and holds crypts and memorials for a lot of famous people who were Polish. It's also where Pope John Paul II was first a priest.

And this is a great moment to talk about how much Poland loves John Paul II. As the first Polish pope, and coming from a country full of Catholics, they adore him, even on a public, national scale. There are statues seemingly everywhere. There's a national museum devoted to him in Krakow. This amount of public appreciation for one person just seemed so strange to me, especially considering that the only relation he had to Poland was being from there. It's not like he held office or worked there for most of the latter part of his life. This fervour was something I struggled to relate to.

On the other side of the religious spectrum, Krakow is also known for having a lively Jewish Quarter, called Kazimierz. It has a lot of brightly lit, flashy restaurants, some shops, and a higher concentration of both cars and tourists than the rest of the city. It's next to a Jewish cemetery, and a few blocks away are the remnants of the Jewish ghetto. Going into Poland I knew I would encounter such things, but I was unprepared for how well preserved it was. Cement walls and black iron, barbed-wire fences were still up, and pictures from the time compared to the current streets and buildings still match up quite well.

Krakow was also my first introduction to Polish food and drink. The notable entries obviously include pierogies, which had a much larger variety of ingredients than I was expecting: from a typical meat to pear to blue cheese to wild mushroom. I also sampled Zywiec, a cheap Polish beer; a cherry liquor called wisniowka; and zupnik, a honey liqueur.

We finished our night at Opium, a bar with a rooftop where we could look out over the old city. Poland in general and Krakow in particular were both pleasant surprises, and I was excited to see more.

Opium, a bar and music club with several levels, including this open air lounge on the bottom floor, an enclosed dance floor and stage on the second, and an easily accessible rooftop above that.

Budapest is a titan of city. Its scale is staggering. And seeing it right after Prague made it feel that much larger. The cities are laid out quite similarly: a curving river splits each in half, with the modern-day-busy-city-life on one side and a large hill and castle making up the other. But Budapest and its features are the Prague version multiplied several times over.

The name itself shows the city's history: it's a concatenation of the two cities that combined to form it almost a sesquicentury ago. Those two were (maybe obviously) Buda and Pest.

The history of Hungarian people and language are quite unique for this part of the world. The word they use for themselves and their language is Magyar. And it turns out the language's closest relative is Finish, making it the only language in the region without a Slavic origin. If you look on a map you'll see that Hungary and Finland aren't even close to being neighbors. What this really comes down to is that Hungary, its people, and its language are very different than the surrounding countries.

When we arrived we had a similarly bad experience as in Prague with figuring out the metro. I won't repeat the details, but it was exacerbated by the train station being an old, decrepit building in a not-great part of town.

Once we did get on the metro it was fast and convenient. Just like Prague, both cities actually had great public transportation systems, it was just the learning curve that was rough. Budapest made it really easy to get around their city on the metro, which is notable for being the second oldest subway ever (only London's predates it).

After getting closer to the city's center I felt like Budapest started to shine. It was a city alive with culture and lots of people milling about. Big, impressive buildings abounded, historic sites seemed to peak around every corner, and young people were jovially imbibing the traditional drink Pálinka, which is a kind of mashed-fruit brandy.

We lunched at a nice Jewish restaurant called Fülemüle (Hungarian for "nightingale") and it was a top contender for best meal of the trip. Latkes, orange chili chicken, and a roasted goose leg that was to die for made up the bulk of what we ate there. It was so good it made me want to search for similar places back home.

We began to explore the city, starting first with the Great Market Hall, an open sun-roofed building with vendors selling everything you could imagine, including the famous Hungarian paprika and goulash. For me, goulash was never something I wanted to eat, but in Eastern Europe it is popular way beyond what I ever encountered in the US, to the point where it is common to find both at a tiny stall in a market like this, or at a fancy white-tablecloth restaurant. When I ordered it in both Prague and Budapest I was thoroughly impressed at how much better it was than I expected.

The Great Market Hall has throngs of people that can be hard to navigate, but it's a fun shopping and eating destination with reasonable prices.

Then we started a long trek across the Danube to the Citadella, a fort built on top of a massive hill. From there we had some breathtaking views across the water to the rest of the city. I would wager it's one of the highest points in Budapest.

Buda Castle, as seen from the Citadella.

We continued on to Buda Castle. It thrills me that all of the cities we were visiting had at least one castle to explore, as they were a childhood fascination of mine. Every new castle seemed to be sufficiently different that I felt like I was learning something new every time we encountered one.

Hungarian Parliament, as seen from Buda Castle. As you can tell from the crane on the left and the scaffolding on the right, the building was undergoing major renovations at the time and as such was closed to the public.

After a long, tiring journey of many miles that day we ordered from Don Leone, a restaurant right next to our hotel. The dinner consisted of veal paprikash (obviously I had to see what a local chef could do with the paprika), chicken and mushroom taglietta, and bacon and prosciutto wrapped mozzarella. It was another meal well worth remembering.

The next day we explored some of the historic sites farther from the city center. We got to ride on the ancient, cramped subway until we found Heroes' Square, which is ringed by museums and embassies. From there we walked through one of the large city parks, stumbling on Vajdahunyad Castle, which much to my delight was the first castle I've ever been to with an actual moat and portcullis.

Vajdahunyad Castle. With a moat and a portcullis! And yes, those are kill-slits in the towers. Makes me wish that the US had castles just waiting to be found in the middle of city parks.

We then sought out the nearby Széchenyi Thermal Bath. Hungary - and Budapest in particular - is known for having natural hot springs, most of which have been converted into upscale public bathhouses. You can get massages, switch between different temperature pools, and even enter misty saunas with different scents. I would've thought that last one a pure gimmick, but after just a few moments in the mint-scented room I could feel my sinuses clearing in a way that any unscented sauna never achieved. I also had a strange moment where I realized that the last time I was in a sauna was at Blue Lagoon in Iceland. It seems to be something I perpetually do on vacation, but never in my day to day life.

Seeing the Széchenyi Thermal Bath for the first time I wasn't sure it was even a bath house given the architecture. It looked more like some official state building. But it's really just a nice place to soak and relax in exchange for a few dollars.

I loved Budapest. It epitomized for me what being a tourist in a foreign country is about: experiencing new sights and sounds (and smells!) while discovering the local history, traditions, and flavors.

We arrived in Prague midday, coming in on a morning train from Berlin. That ride took about four and a half hours, which is the same time it takes for Amtrak to get from Chicago to Ann Arbor.

Our first impression of Prague was inside the train station, attempting to get on the metro. Of course, there were no actual humans working at the metro station, so we had to decipher everything from the poorly translated ticket machines. Turns out tickets could only be bought in cash, and obviously, the Czech Republic is not on the Euro. Add to that the fact that there were several people aggressively asking for money we didn't have and it started to feel uncomfortable. Inevitably the ATM only spit out huge denominations, so we had to buy some small item from a convenience store to get change and listen to the cashier complain about the size of the bill we were pawning off on them and beg for us to pay some other way. I was relieved to finally pass through the turnstiles and descend into the underground.

When we emerged from the subway into the Prague city center it was a breath of fresh air. A light, warm rain was pitter-pattering on the cobblestones under a white sky. It was an environment that would remain more or less consistent for the duration of our stay.

The Prague Old Town Square has that idyllic European quality to it: vendors and street artists vie for attention amidst historic buildings.

Meandering through streets devoid of both car and foot traffic, I was wondering if all the people were staying out of the rain, or if this part of town was deserted. But when we came upon the famous Charles Bridge and turned onto the big street extending from it, all that changed. This was the rich, touristy part of town. Everyone seemed to be smiling and just happy to be alive. In contrast to the weather, it was a sunny atmosphere.

A view of the Charles Bridge from across the water, with the Petřín Lookout Tower lit up on top of the hill.

We dropped off our bags at the hostel and joined a walking tour that was just starting. The young guide told us that the rain was normal, and showed us the high water marks on the sides of the buildings, some of which were many feet above my head. He also pointed out thick black bars lining the streets and sidewalks, explaining that they were walls sunken into the ground. City officials had keys to unlock them, so they could be pulled up to create immediate defenses against flash flooding.

He told us stories of floods past, when animals would use the rising water to escape the zoo. He said that the Czech people would cheer them on, as they saw in the animals a mirror of their past selves trying to escape communism. It was a sentiment I had never traveled far enough to encounter before, but it would continue to be echoed throughout the rest of my trip in Eastern Europe. As we walked around Prague the guide showed us statues and memorials to all of those who had died fighting or trying to escape communism. It was a sobering reminder of our world's recent history.

After returning and seeing our room, which was on the top floor only accessible by a laborious staircase, we listened to the call of our stomachs and went in search of some grub. A recommendation from the hostel proprietor led us around the corner to a pub called The Lokál. It was simple fare: red cabbage, mashed potatoes, fried cheese, and duck, all washed down by the ever-pervasive-in-Prague Pilsner Urquell. I can't adequately describe how the flavors were just rich enough, the temperatures and textures so spot on, that it created one of my favorite food experiences of all time. I would've taken every meal there given the chance, but my sense of adventure and forcing variety from the local cuisine won over. Just barely. It was an excellent meal.

The beer, Pilsner Urquell, deserves its own paragraph. It comes from Pilsen, which is located in the Czech Republic, and given its popularity both there and abroad it definitely qualifies as their national beer. Coming from Pilsen, it is actually the first pilsner beer ever made, and gives that type of beer its name. Much like Guinness, the locals claim it is better in Prague than in the rest of the world because of how fresh it is off the tap. In this case, I have to agree. I've had it in the states before and never really took note of it, but in Prague it was creamy and smooth, with a flavorful character I couldn't remember ever getting from a bottle.

The rest of our time in Prague was quite touristy: we saw the famous astronomical clock, Old Town Square, Prague Castle, and even hiked to the top of the imitation Eiffel Tower. It was a fun, delicious city, with clouds that could dampen streets, but never spirits.

Prague Castle lit up at night from across the Vltava River, dominated by St. Vitus Cathedral, which sits in its center, and has some of the most impressive stained glass windows I've ever seen.

This is a view of Prague from the highest point in the city: the very top of the Petřín Lookout Tower, which is often called a miniature Eiffel Tower.

UPDATE: Just a few days after I left Prague the city actually did flood, and some animals did try to escape from the zoo, just like that tour guide had told us. There were tens of thousands of people that were evacuated. It's obviously not something new to the city, but it's still sad. You can read more about those events on Wikipedia or do an image search to see what it looked like.

The second day in Berlin consisted of waking up to stand in line for the Reichstag. It took over an hour, but it was definitely worth it. I understand why the flow of people into the capitol is controlled, and it's awesome that Germany makes it so easy for everyone to see it - foreign tourists included.

Our appointment was set for the early evening, so we spent the afternoon going to the Jewish Museum. This is one place I hadn't even walked by on my previous trip because it was so far away from most of the main attractions. But thanks to the easy public transit we just grabbed a bus and found our way there pretty easily.

The building itself is really the main attraction of this museum: it's a gray metal facade that looks like it's been cut up and slashed open, with jarring jagged wounds serving as the windows. The interior is a vertigo-inducing maze that tilts and shrinks around you. Just looking down a hallway there there was an extremely uncomfortable feeling. There's an outside tombstone-like garden that also has no level ground or right angles. It really made me want to just be outside and free on level ground. Obviously, that was the idea. The final room worth noting is one that had no artificial heating or cooling or lighting. The only light was natural, coming from a small hole in the ceiling, a good fifty feet above. It exemplified that trapped feeling I had the entire time there, and with the way sound carried and echoed, along with the sense of being in the cold ground, it very much made me think I was stuck at the bottom of a very large well.

The exterior of the Jewish Museum, which in hindsight could resemble a prison.

Getting out into bright daylight after that was quite refreshing. We moved back up to the Reichstag for the best 360 degree view of the city. That rooftop is always a highlight for me.

The view from the top of the Reichstag always manages to take my breath away.

For dinner, we went to the fanciest restaurant of the entire trip: Noto. It was to the North in the Mitte district. The food was definitely the best we had at that point, but I wouldn't recommend it for the cost. A friend's tip brought us to Katz Orange for cocktails after that, and I absolutely loved it. I'd go so far as to say that it's my new favorite place to get cocktails in Europe. Much more of a speakeasy scene than I had encountered on that side of the pond before. The drinks were great, and they had a chandelier made out of ping pong balls! The decor was generally American Western - think cowboys and Indians - which is kind of hilarious to find in a random residential street in Berlin.

Our second round of drinks at Katz Orange. Mine was served with dark chocolate and called a "Gold Fashioned." The ice was made out of Laphroaig. Because of the smoky ice I was warned when ordering it by our server that it was "a gentleman's drink." He was deliciously correct.

After that we headed back to our home neighborhood where we considered going to the local crowd-pleaser bar called White Trash (a converted Chinese restaurant that kept the tacky Asian font for its sign). But there was a cover - we were told it was a "Rockabilly" scene - so instead we opted for Kuntshalle, a bar we had passed that was in a building made entirely out of shipping containers. Yeah. It was a unique experience. And the bartender who served us was from Denver. You just can't escape running into fellow Americans when on vacation, no matter the crazy places you end up.

Being the only city on this trip I've actually been to before, seeing Berlin again from the air during the descent gave me a feeling of comfort and familiarity. It also reminded me that most European cities eschew the skyscrapers of North America, instead favoring their heritage of shorter buildings. It makes it easier to see throughout the whole city, certainly, with multiple vantage points that seem to go on forever.

Once off the plane and on public transportation, Berlin is largely as I recall: bustling but efficient, clean yet lively. There's so many people here that the metro services over 170 different stops; the buses and trains always seemed packed. And yet, out on the streets, aside from the tourist areas during peak hours, it never really feels that crowded.

The bus from the airport teases the popular sites: in particular, the Reichstag seems to be poking its head out from across the river. Alexanderplatz is our transfer, and I immediately recognize it as the location of a street fair Joe and I stumbled upon during my previous trip.

We stayed in this AirBnB place on Kollwitzstraße, a street filled with eclectic shops and people. Not to mention dogs. Stray dogs that no one seems bothered by, just scrounging and sniffing each other. So the neighborhood felt decidely un-touristy, for which I am grateful. It was a chance to see how Berlin worked outside of all the areas I was before.

After getting settled, the first day in country consisted of a lot of walking around the central area. The outside of the Reichstag - you now need a (free) appointment made in advance to go inside, the Brandenberg Gate, the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, and everything else in that walkable area made the list.

A shot of the Memorial near dusk.

Food for the day consisted of currywurst in Potsdamer Platz, a dish I was overly excited to have again, although it didn't quite live up to my expectations. Upon returning to our neighborhood we ventured inside a small restaurant entitled Maison Courage (House of Courage for those not up on their French) and there enjoyed some hearty German beers and a wonderful apple strudel for dessert.

Overall it was a great re-introduction to Berlin, to Germany, and even to Europe in general.

Tomorrow I'm headed out on my first big trip since Iceland. Ten solid days of romping around Eastern Europe. The plan includes Germany, the Czech Republic, Hungary, and Poland. My limited French won't be much use this time around, but I'm working on getting as much of the grade school German back as possible. Luckily Monica will be my travelling companion the whole time, which means she'll be able to navigate Poland with her native linguistic abilities. She also made this neat little map of our impending journey, to give you an idea of where we'll be:

As you can see, there are some rather large legs. During a couple of those I'll get to experience a sleeper train for the first time. And you can also probably guess that due to its proximity Vienna was on the initial version of this plan. It was scrapped because of time constraints, to allow us more time in the other cities. It's a trip that's already quite travel heavy within the time we're there, so while I'm sad to be missing it I do think it's the right decision.

The first stop is Berlin, where I'll be landing mid-day local time this Thursday. I'm really excited to experience the city a second time, since it was one of my favorites for everything: food, drink, history, and culture. And this time I'll have a point of comparison, so I'll be able to tell if anything has changed within the past four years.

So here's to another trip beginning! I'll be updating here when I can, but in the meantime, prost!