Austrian Alps & Bavarian Beer

Leaving Stockholm Airport, I had the splendid gift from the Nordic gods to get food poisoning - from an Irish-Red-Sox themed bar no less (the gods are never short of irony). So, I entered Budapest after a grueling day of flights, layovers, and airplane bathrooms, and I left Budapest with the same problem - the flu. Take congestion and exhaustion, add in a little season change, and there you have a Hungarian flu. Probably another message from the Universe telling me woaaaah slow down, buddy.

Bratislava, Slovakia
Unfortunately, because of whatever sickness I had, I endured another grueling day of travel from Budapest to Bratislava. Bratislava was the perfect place to be sick and recuperate.

After a few days of nothing but my bed, I felt well enough to sneak in a three hour excursion that ended up being a hike, complete with views of castles and a "historical trail" full of information to absorb. I would have made it longer, but after the fresh air and the physical effort, my bed was calling once again.

Vienna, Austria

Whether I was still recovering from being sick or not, I had to make it to Switzerland from the eastern border of Austria, and I had to do it by Sept 25th in order to meet my mom. For that reason, I kept chuggin' along. I had one full day in Vienna, and it ended up being only 3 or 4 hours of exploring the city.

When I entered Vienna, I had hoped for memorials, and history, similar to the way that Budapest represents its past. Rather than that, the history seemed somewhat suppressed  and the city is just as metropolitan as any other. In fact, it was like walking around Fifth avenue - teenagers looking only at their phones, and people bumping into me left and right without even a glance to see if they shoved a wall or a human being. It also smelled like horse maneur.

If I had the time I might have fallen in love with the city. But I started to feel ill from the congestion, and had to cut my visit short.

Salzburg, Austria

Salzburg was a whole-nother story. After being bummed-out from Vienna, and being sick, I arrived in Salzburg ready for anything thrown my way, and healthy once again.

LIFE IS BACK

I had an idea of the hikes I wanted to do around the city, but not knowing if I would be capable, I decided to ditch the idea of a day-long hike in the Austrian Alps and instead do a biking tour. And not just any biking tour - a Sound of Music biking tour. Not only was the Sound of Music filmed in Salzburg, but it was filmed in the town and original locations of the real Von Trapp Family Singers. 

On the tour, we road through the Marienplatz gardens where the family sings "Do Re Mi." We went outside of Salzburg to a park where "16 Going on 17" is sung in the gazebo that is now kept there. The gazebo was locked and closed to the public - too many Americans jumping around on benches, imitating the movie, and twisting ankles. Even the actress in the movie twisted her ankle during the filming of the scene, what do you expect?

We went to the fountain where Frauline Maria begins singing "Confidence in Me" and we road our bicycles up the dirt road where she skips and runs with her guitar as she approaches the fence of the Captain's house. We went to the convent where all of the convent scenes were filmed. The same place as the original events, where Frauline Maria had pledged as a novice nun, and the same convent that she and the Captain later were married in. (Not that big gaudy church in the movie.) When I entered into the convent to look around, it was quaint with wooden panels, and a beautiful large organ. It was even dark, as if nuns might be lurking in the shadows. Suddenly, right as I was heading to the door, the sunlight shined through the window above the entrance, and at the same moment behind the organ where they could not be seen, a choir of nuns began to sing. Really. It was as if beautiful angels were just out of sight, watching over us, singing praise with us. Their voices started like a whisper and grew louder, but still so soft and gentle. Like a mother knocking lightly on her child's door after tucking her in for sleep, and then whispering into the dark "I love you, goodnight." I listened for a moment and then just as suddenly as it came, the music stopped, and my tour moved on.

Outside of the convent my tour of 10 sat overlooking the city with the Alps in the near distant background. We gathered round our guitar-playing guide and sang a few songs from the movie together. It was like being around a campfire with old friends. The picture below was our backdrop.

Afterward, we road to the lake that the children fell into (in the movie) - learning that it was one of two buildings used to make the movie magic of the Von Trapp Family home.

During the days of the real Von Trapp family, the home was owned by a well-known director, Max Reinhardt. This is significant, because on the same night that the Von Trapp Family escaped Austria and Nazi occupation, so did Reinhardt. Coincidentally, it was the last night before all transportation out of Austria was cancelled in order to keep people from trying to evade Nazi rule. Unlike the movie, however, the Von Trapp family did not walk over mountains to get to Switzerland. Firstly, because the mountains they would have walked over would have lead directly to Germany, since they are already on the Austrian/German border and the Alps are all that divides them. Secondly, the family actually took a train to Italy, and then flew to the United States. Max Reinhardt also sought refuge in the United States. I don't know about Max, but the Von Trapps have all (or mostly) died and been buried in Vermont.

I think the story itself is interesting. Compared to other stories I've heard about the Holocaust, and Nazi occupation, it doesn't appear as though - in the beginning - anyone knew that the Nazi's were bad news bears. But if there are stories of people escaping before the rule began then I suppose the proof is in the pudding.

Dachau, Germany

Interestingly enough, despite all of the negative press about U.S. involvement in foreign affairs, the United States is heavily praised for being a key player in ending the Nazi regime and freeing any survivors of the Holocaust. We really were the liberators. I always thought it was some sort of propaganda taught to me in school, but no, this time we were the heroes. Now, I suppose that role has sort of gone to our heads since FDR was president... Things are different now.

Dachua is a city where the first concentration camp of the Nazi party was built in 1933, almost immediately after Nazi rule was imminent. Propaganda literally made Hitler. Without it he would have been an eccentric and invasively annoying Austrian with radical views about worthiness and being German.

I couldn't stay at the camp more than an hour. It was the sort of place where, you would walk into an empty room and think what was this? A closet? Then you look around and all there is is this lonely torn up plaque on the far wall that says "This was where they kept the bodies" and a little picture next to it of piles of corpses. 

A lot of the information in the camp was the same stuff I've read a thousand times in history books, and learned in the several Holocaust/Genocide courses that I had taken throughout my education. I liked the amount of information there was about all of the dozens of different sorts of people who went through the camp - the emigrants, political prisoners, catholics, priests, Jehovah Witnesses, Jews, homosexuals, Roma & Sinti (known as gypsies), and a few others I can't recall off the top of my head. There was information on every ethnic group that had stories of people traveling through Dachau or dying during the war - Greeks, Italians, Polish, etc. They all had their own symbol that the Nazis used to identify them, the black triangle, the pink triangle, the purple one, the triangle with a dot, the one with a line, the two triangles interlocking, the blue triangle, or a yellow star. Not necessarily a star that was meant to be the "Star of David," but a mockery star. Under every group description of their experience at the camp it said, "they were particularly harassed and tortured" for the reason that they were there. Every group. It's possible, that the only group treated semi-less inhumanly were the Catholic priests that were prisoners. They were allowed privileges to lead prayers and services, even have sacramental wine, until one day in the early 1940s the privileges stopped.

It seemed that Dachau was the organizing place before people were shipped out by trains to other camps. It housed over 6,000 people in bunk beds made of wood that were three beds high, a twin bed length of space, 20 beds back-to-back, and only one ladder on the end for everyone to climb over each other to use. Tuberculosis had a terrible outbreak for a few years during the rough winters in the 1940s before liberation. That was one of the reasons so many people died during the Death Marches when Nazi's tried to escape. Well, it was a brutal winter so if they weren't already sick with TB then they got sick, and as soon as they stopped moving or running with the group they were shot.

One thing I saw at the camps, that I thought was cool because of my Orthodox Christian upbringing, was the Russian Orthodox Memorial Chapel. If you want to lose the sentiment and get real, it was more like a log-cabinish-church-shack. I couldn't get in, and it would probably fit 3 average sized people. But from the locked gate I could see in the dark room the icon over the altar (traditionally it would be an icon of the Virgin Mary with Jesus, or Jesus triumphing over evil through the Resurrection). In this chapel, it was Jesus - in the same position as if he were triumphing over evil in the image of the Resurrection - next to him are two watch towers with gates held open by angels, and behind him is a sea of sick prisoners' faces. It was a sea of the saints and martyrs and sufferers and innocents who were killed in the Holocaust - in their striped pajamas - standing behind Jesus the Triumphant. Now, I'm not sure if there is a juxtaposition here, knowing that the majority of deaths during the Holocaust were Jews who don't believe that Jesus is the Triumphant. And I know that nowadays Holocausts are happening around the world because some people believe radically in the message of the Bible and misinterpretations of Jesus' teachings. Thankfully the current Pope is working really hard to end those radical stigmas.

The icon brought me to thoughts of unification through prayer and suffering, but it also brought me to sadness of the current division and murder of people around the world because of religion, stigma, and judgments. Anyone with a brain knows that all of the main religions of the world are supposed to be centered on love - but I suppose that love for your beliefs while facing enough trauma and stigma for it, can lead to radicalism. I feel such compassion for those people. I want so badly to show them love. 

So, take it as you will, but the icon was something I had never seen before in all of the churches I had been in. At first I felt confused by it, and then realizing that it is a prayer for all of the sufferers of the Holocaust, and for all of the people who made them suffer, I felt it to be truly touching and an attempt at unification and light through the darkness of tragedy. 

Of course after my hour at Dachau, I had to get the hell outta there. It's nice to have the choice to leave and to say "No I don't feel like something making me sad today." I'm grateful for that choice. Back then there was no choice for the prisoners except for within their souls - and the Nazis broke it however they could. Imagine that? The only hope you have left is the love that you keep deep in your soul. The only happiness you have left is kept snug inside you for no one else to see because if you showed it you would die by your enemy, or be criticized by your friends - there is no reason to be happy, give up. But we can't give up on life, no matter our blessings or our sufferings, once we give up we deteriorate and all is lost. And if they lost hope, when they were already sick or dying, then they may as well have made the decision to die. Imagine if that were the better alternative, rather than torture, starvation and sickness. Man, I really admire anyone who can keep hope through any struggle. Resilience is only a beautiful thing because it means maintaining hope in the face of tragedy.

Munchen, Oktoberfest

After a quick day trip to the DokumentationCenter in Nuremberg to see the home and stomping grounds for major events in the Nazi party and to walk around the city, I headed back to Munich and to the Oktoberfest.

Now, I had never planned on going to Oktoberfest. It wasn't until I was looking for a hostel to book in Munich that i realized, because of the prices, that it was Oktoberfest. So I stayed in Dachau and commuted an hour to Munich for a few days. I didn't see much of the city, and I wasn't interested either. What more culture was I going to get than to learn the ins and outs of Oktoberfest? One of the oldest and hardiest traditions of Germany.

Some thing I learned: Leider hossen (which are leather suspenders attached to leather pants/shorts) for men, and dirndls (which are traditional styled dresses) for girls, are a must. And if you don't want to be recognized at all as a tourist, then enter with some real leather leiderhossen and a checkered shirt, or a real dirndl, a wool hat with a feather sticking out, and a pre-bought beer. Golden. I only managed the wool hat with the feather. Real leiderhossen and dirndls can be hundreds of Euros, although the fake ones can be around 40Euro they look more like Halloween costumes.

The "tents" that everyone talks about, I imagined would be hundreds of small canvases with bar stools and lines out around the corner waiting to get in for a pint. What I got, were 6 tents, each the size of a cathedral, made of wood bolts and screws like Noahs arc, with thousands of wooden benches inside, bench to bench (backs touching), a central bandstand, no lines at all, and serving only liters of beer. Beers as big and as heavy as my 8lb head!

 The sort of beer was according to the tent I chose, and I even sat at a table both days that I was there. The tents take three months to build in preparation for Oktoberfest - all designed differently and made to be fairly attractive.

Huge, right?

Now, keep in mind, I hadn't planned on going to Oktoberfest, and I don't really fancy myself a drink too often. Particularly since I've been traveling alone, I have been a sober-sally for the past several months. But who is going to go to Oktoberfest and not have a beer? or two? or three?

Two years ago, when I went to Berlin, I drank the most amazing beer I ever had. A bottle of Augustiner Brau. I had never seen that beer since then. I learned that it simply doesn't exist outside of Germany, and for the past two years I have dubbed it a favorite. Low and behold, what is the national Munchen beer only two tents in from the Oktoberfest entrance? Yeah, well Augustiner Brau tent was my home for 4 hours that night.

Real dirndl, check. Wool hat with feather, check. Augustiner the size of my head, check. Willkommen!

I made friends from Morocco, California, Germany, and Australia. People started feeding me drinks one after the other, and I learned a lot of interesting unwritten information about Oktoberfest.

1. The Prost song. I don't know what it's called, I don't know the German words in it - but what I do know is "prost" means cheers and when it is played by the band in the tent (every 20 minutes) everyone clinks their glasses and sings along.

2. By the evening everyone is standing on benches, and seating is not necessary or available. 

3. During the day people sit, eat, and socialize, and aren't drunk quite yet because its before 6pm. During that time a person can take a chugging/skulling/drinking-your-whole-beer challenge. To do so, they stand on their bench and drink their beer. About a quarter of the way through, people start to notice - the band stops, and everyone in the tent is watching, cheering, and taking videos. It can be sort of like in old movies when, the outlaw enters the saloon, and everyone stops to stare and all you hear is a distant glass shattering in the background. If the person taking the challenge is unable to finish the beer, then they must dump whatever is left  in their glass on top of their head - or at least appear to aim for their head as they dump it over their shoulder (most likely getting everyone around beer-covered). If they fail to do the dumping, then the audience will boo - not only that but they will throw things. And these people are drunk so they will throw whatever they got - a shoe, food, a menu. Some tents don't allow this on account of regurgitation, and foolish young people.

4. There is a record for how many beers a waitress can carry. I hear its 26. These are liters of beer in thick heavy glasses. My wrist hurt after holding one for twenty minutes. The most I saw a waitress carrying was 16. I can't imagine how buff her arms and sore her wrists are by the end of Oktoberfest. Some of the waitresses wear special handguards for support - the dead serious beer carriers.

5. Food on a spit is whats up. They have Ox, Quail, Chicken, Lamb, Duck, Goat. Noah's entire arc.

6. Being drunk is okay. Even welcomed. Making friends is natural, and laughing at yourself is necessary. Going alone to Oktoberfest is not totally taboo either. People asked me why I was there alone, surprised and sometimes even taking pity on me. But, they were asking me weren't they? So naturally I put on my creep smile and thought, well gee, thanks for asking... friend. No, just kidding. But it was so easy to make friends! Just like any bar where peoples' inhibitions are lost, left, or leaving. All you gotta do is say "hey," maybe throw in a "where are you from?" laugh at something together, and then keep drinking. I am surprised that I didn't meet more lone-travelers. I'm also surprised at the amount of times "where are you from?" was asked before "whats your name?"

7. It's literally a parking lot turned into a theme park. There are rollercoastera, and other crazy fun rides. It was bigger and better than Canobie Lake Park in New Hampshire.

8. There are families and children there. Its not just alcohol lovers, or curious travelers, or party hardying 20-somethings. Theres fun houses, magicians, comedians, log flumes, and all kinds of other kid-friendly stuff.

9. Germans come from all over. It's not some tourist taboo. This is a cultural thing that we tourists get to have the privilege of joining in on. As far as I could tell, Germans don't really mind us joining in either, and they definitely outnumbered us foreigners. Drink! Be merry! Willkommen zum Deutschland!

10. Oktoberfest is totally worth more than the stigmatizing beer-fest party. What other party do you know that closes at 11pm? It truly is a cultural experience, a bringing together of people using a substance that gives most people the illusion of happiness and openness. Authentic food, authentic traditions, authentic people. Its warm and fuzzy and yummy, and drunk as hell. Yeah... its a party. But then... life should be every now and again.

Prost!

The Baltic Sea

In one week I have changed timezones 4 times.

Stockholm

I arrived with only one full day around the city, and although I would have liked more time, one day was enough.

The hostel I stayed in was the coolest part of being in Stockholm. On the tiny island of Langholmen, in the middle of the city of islands, is an old prison. Surrounded by a small beach, bike paths, small boat ports, and parks, Langholmen prison was turned from a maritime holding place to a hostel/hotel and conference center. Resurrected inside are preserves of the prison-life and museum casings. I would have spent a day or so on the island if I had more time in Stockholm. But I didn't, and instead I walked along the water for an hour before turning onto the main drag. The Royal Palace was much to be desired, since the original one had burnt down and the replacement had no bells and whistles. It serves its purpose. Sitting along the main streets, I was harassed, several times, by one particular gypsy girl. She would ask me for money, and of course I acknowledged her and said no in Swedish - since thats all I could say. However, the three separate occasions throughout the day when she asked me for money, she put her hands on my arm and on my head, and when I forcefully said "no" - since I don't know how to say "don't touch me" in Swedish - it felt like she would almost smack me. I have no judgments of gypsies - in fact I feel a lot of compassion for them and anger towards the governments that shun them and oppress them. But you shouldn't touch a stranger. That's crossing a boundary. Of course she was touching me to buy time to look into my pockets, try and see whats there, and perhaps steal from me. Her touch was not of compassion, so of course I knew there were no good intentions behind it. My pockets were all zippered up like a smart little traveler. 

It's a terrible conundrum. I feel bad for her, I have little to no money to spare for myself, I want to give to her, and I would have, but then she treats me with contempt and I see that she is seeking an opportunity to steal from me. Even so, I know that stealing and begging are yet another outcome of her oppressed life and culture. I'm torn. After the several times of touching and harassing, I was no longer torn, and instead I felt that if I had given to her then it would only condone her behavior. I would have karate chopped her in the throat by that point. Which I thought about as she passed me a fourth time. When did I become so violent?  No, I wouldn't do it. But thinking about doing it made me wonder if I was capable of beating someone up in a situation where I was acting in defense rather than pride. Mom says karate chop them in the throat. My brother says cup and hit their ears to destabilize them. Dad says kick em where the sun don't shine. Sandra Bullock says to S.I.N.G. - solar plex, instep, nose, groin.

From Stockholm I left on a cruise to Tallin - St. Petersburg - Helsinik and back to Stockholm. The cruise itself was less expensive than a hostel would have been for 4 nights in most places, and here I had an opportunity to see 4 different countries. Briefly, but beautifully, and restfully.

The cruise was much like a hostel. Everything cost extra money, so I did not pay for anything. I have become  a savings bank in my own right, and the proof is in my financial anxiety and a suitcase full of fruits and homemade sandwiches. From the Langholmen hostel where I had a free breakfast, I sneakily packed away 4 sandwiches from the buffet. Free dinner for the week, on the cheapest cruise of a lifetime. 

Upon checking in for the cruise, I was given my boarding card. I asked the woman behind the desk if I was sharing a room with someone else. (I had assumed that for only 120 Euro, there had to be some sort of catch, maybe I was paying for a bed in a room with strangers?) The girl told me that I had the room to myself. It was like Sinterklaas came early. I jumped up and down, and let out all of my excitement like a child. I was so happy I could have kissed the girl behind the counter. Thank you! I have been spoiled my whole life with a room to myself, and for the last 6 weeks I haven't minded sleeping in a room with strangers. However, the added anxiety of not having my privacy, of being walked in on by a man or woman who is a stranger at any moment, of locking my things in the morning and the night - it all was beginning to make me tiresome. It kept giving me more to think about, and because of hyperawareness, I hadn't slept a full night since I began traveling. Earplugs don't seem to make a difference. So I jumped up and down and sang the praises of every officer I passed on my way through customs to the ship where I get to snore, fart, burp, and sit around naked for the next 5 days in a room that is mine. Not that I do any of those things, but the option is so freeing!

Tallinn

Next was a time-zone change to Tallinn Estonia. One day here is all you need, and I had 4 hours. That was more than enough time to walk around the cobbled streets (the kind that twist your ankle if you're not careful) hear street performers, see the ancient parts of the city and the monuments, and enjoy some local food - all before returning back to my cruise.

Trying to learn Estonian for the short time I was there was absolutely pointless. Estonian is close to Finnish, and both Finnish and Estonian (like Hungarian) are completely different from any Slavonic, Germaic, or Russian langauge. The language itself, like Finnish, was sing-songy. Both of them, with the linguistics, intonations, soft and sweetness - they made me picture a pond at a lake with a quiet lone frog jumping from one lily pad to another. It was as if the languages created a sweet tone, an outdoorsy thoughtful tone - like when, in my imagination, the frog comes across the mermaid Ariel while she is to the side of the shore crying - the frog doesn't saying anything, it just sits there ribbiting while she talks to it. Thats what Finnish and Estonian were like to me, if that makes any sense at all.

St. Petersburg

After Tallinn, the next day I entered into the Russian Federation's timezone, and mobile network. Everyone working on the ship was Russian, and so I had been warming up as best I could by asking people phrases and writing it down. I lost the paper an hour into my tour of the city, but I remembered enough.

At the help-desk on the cruise they made me say the words back to them. Mikael, the guy who was helping me, kept saying, "its okay but say it angrier."

Heres what I learned.

gdyet toalet? Where is the toilet

paka - Goodbye

das vi danya - goodbye formally

privet - hello

niet - no

dah - yes

minye - I want for me

Harasho - good

kak tohebia zo voot - What is your name?

diechte - Give me

pivou - beer

schot - bill or check

spasiba - thank you

That was enough to get me through a day in Russia.

I had always imagined that the buildings in Russia would look like they were made of candy. With balls of gumdrops, different colors of twisting candy canes, and dollops of cream on top. When I entered the city all of my childish fantasies were put to rest. The city's architecture was like Paris, or London, or Budapest. No candied houses.

In the one day I had, the first thing that I did was go the Holy Resurrection Orthodox Cathedral. And the church, like a couple of other churches I had driven by on my entrance from the seaport, they did look like they were made of candy. They had twists of colors like candy canes, gumdrops on the sides, and dollops of different colored creams on top. Without even thinking, I went and bought a ticket and entered into the church. I was drawn to it. I had to go in and see what these Russian churches are about. I had to be in an Orthodox church. And it was so shiny and pretty.

I walked in, no no... I took two steps in... and I began to cry. I looked to the ceiling and the wooden throne in front of me - like the one carved and kept in St. Peter's Basilica at the Vatican and seen in the movie Angels and Demons. I saw that every inch of the walls were covered with beautiful Russian art, and Byzantine icons. I looked around in awe. The people holding the door behind me laughed at me just standing there. They saw my back and that my head was fixed towards the ceiling. No doubt they could hear me say "wow... wooow...wow" over and over. From my perspective I had only just entered and therefore I had only seen a corner of this place. I turned to them laughing at me, and still with tears, my shaky voice said "It's... so... beautiful." And then I began to cry some more.

The only other time I had been so taken-away during my trip so far, was when I arrived at the River Seine in Paris, and looked around - at nothing particularly, but I was there and it was beautiful and nothing could contain my excitement and gratitude for its beauty.

Looking at the ceiling of the cathedral, I began to walk around. I stopped crying after hearing in my head my brother's reaction to my tears in Paris, "aw are you crying?" Not with sarcasm, but with surprise, sincerity, and perhaps a little bit of concern. I'm okay, I'm okay. It's just so beautiful. I pulled myself together and toured the church. It was breathtaking all of the hand-painted icons on every inch of the walls, coming down to meet a midnight marble that touched the floor where panels of marble intersected and created more designs.

If nothing else, I was happy that I saw this in Russia. The rest could wait.

After I left the Cathedral I went to eat some true Russian Borscht, and beef Stroganoff. I had never eaten either of these foods and I like to make it a point to try the local food, the local beer, and hear the local music. That is usually one of my goals in a city or a new country. The Russian beer was heavy, and similar to Heineken. The food was so meaty and flavorful that I'm not articulate enough to describe it. I added it to my list of foods I've loved around the world. It's a long list. 

Helsinki

Due to the time change between Tallinn - St. Petersburg - Helsinki - I was pretty worn out, and my body was utterly confused. I woke up at 7am, but it turns out it was 5am, another day I woke up at 8am and it turns out it was 9am. By the time I entered the center of Helsinki I thought about going right back to the ship to sleep. But no, there was much to be seen, and after playing around on instruments in a music store I came across, I had the energy and excitement to explore.

Helsinki was expensive. Much like Norway, but they didn't fool you by using Kroner, they used Euro and straight-up shamed you with their pricing. 8Euro beer? And its an amber beer? No I think I'll stick with Carlsburg in this place. I walked along the fish market, ate reindeer meatballs, and salmon soup. I hadn't known it was reindeer meatballs. I tried it as the woman held it out, ate it, and then asked what it was. It had a pork flavor and was well seasoned. When the lady told me it was reindeer meatballs, I cried a little... then I asked for more. Walking through the market I touched all of the furs, the rabbit, lamb, reindeer, deer, duck. I laid my hands on everything. I even bought a reindeer leather coin purse. This is definitely not an animal lovers dream.

Just down the hill that the Finnish Orthodox church sat on top of, there was a giant statue in the center of the fish market. The statue looked like Benjamin Button when he was first "old" enough or mobile enough to pee standing up. And thats what the statue was, a deformed (or really old) looking baby who was standing up, holding his peewee, and draining a fountain of water into the sea. It was quite a site to watch tourists take pictures between his legs, and try to reach out to touch the fountain of water that represented urine. The statue was two stories and the eyes on the character were giant eyes looking in one direction as if to say "uh oh, I got caught" since he had a gaped mouth to go along with the expression. That was probably the funniest thing that I have seen.

That, and in Stockholm on one of the main streets, a vagabond wearing a halloween rubber mask of a horse was dancing in order to make money for travel. He danced to be funny, and it was, and next to him was a sign that said "for travel." In his hat were hundreds of Kroner too. I contemplated taking up a shenanigan of my own to start a "for travel" fund. I'll leave it to the experts with horse faces for now.

After a fantastic rest all afternoon and evening on the cruise-ship I am now in Stockholm airport, waiting for my flight to Budapest.

Cheers