Touring to Farewell

It looks like it's time to play a little catch up on the documentation of my life in Europe, but in my defense, we've been all over the place in the last couple of weeks. Excuses aside, here is a recap that I can only hope does justice to the wonderful weeks I've had.

My parents flew in to Munich on the 30th of August and after picking them and their luggage up (half of which was stuff I forgot) we continued heading south toward Austria. We were embarking on our week long tour of some of the major cities of Eastern Europe - Salzburg, Budapest, Vienna and Prague to be exact. It would be impossible to recount all the details of the trip without writing a novel, so I'll give a few highlights from each city.

Salzburg

At the end of our tour we looked back at the cities that we had seen and Salzburg wasn't particularly anybody's favorite. We chalked it up to the fact that we had pretty miserable weather. But in thinking about it more wholly, the city doesn't really stick out in my mind as boasting anything particularly unique other than it's vibrant classical music scene. Their intense love for the classics is most notably tied to Mozart, as the well known 18th century composer was born in Salzburg. Other than the big yellow house downtown which reads in large gold letters "Mozart's Birth House," their pride for Wolfgang manifests itself in little chocolate balls with Mozart's bust printed on the foil. Maybe I missed something, but I don't see the connection. Almost every store, in addition to their main item of sale, sold Mozart Balls - pastries and Mozart Balls, Rolex watches and Mozart Balls, tickets to a classical music show and a complimentary sample taste of Mozart's Chocolate Balls! The number of chocolate balls in that city was almost offensive, but I can't deny that they were pretty good.

We stayed in a hotel in the newer part of the city, the nicest Ramada I've ever set foot in (I can only compare to the Ramada we stayed in two days later in Budapest which felt like a hotel from a 1994 episode of Law & Order SVU). In addition to having an amazing breakfast selection (an important criteria for judging how good a hotel is), the Ramada had a beautiful spa/fitness area which they called their Wellnessoase or Wellness Oasis. When fully open it had a massage room, mani/pedi room, foot soaking baths and two saunas. The three of us young men on the trip (Brant, Stefan and myself) used the saunas to relax after a long day of touring the city in the cold, nasty rain. Change in the locker room, towels on the hook and into the steam bed. The only other person in the room was the 50ish year old woman we had let into the Oasis about 20 minutes earlier because she couldn't find her card. After a few minutes of silence, she took one of the hoses in the room and cooled herself off with some cool water, an apparently customary behavior in a steam bed. But instead of turning off when she's done, she pointed it at Brant and gave him a drilling spray. He was a little taken aback, but we just laughed it off. The ice had been broken and we started talking. She was an Austrian woman visiting Salzburg for a festival that ended the day before. Her German was so strongly accented I didn't catch much of the conversation she was having with Stefan, not to mention the 80 degrees Celcius didn't allow me to concentrate on much of anything anyway. The conversation died and I couldn't last much longer in the sauna, so I exited, followed less than a minute later by Stefan. Brant, however, remained, inciting laughs and the creation of unlikely hypotheticals from Stefan and myself. We decided to go back to our room, justifying our abandonment by assuring one another that Brant could fend for himself, and perhaps it might've even be a road he wanted to go down. Who were we to pass judgment? So we left, chuckles trailing behind us down the stairs.

When I awoke the next morning, I was relieved to see that our sauna companion had not come to our room (I was also a little disappointed, but that was more the disappointment that I couldn't use the story as blackmail). He said that she laid a sob story on him about all the tragedies which had befallen her lately and was looking for a room for the night, hence why she "couldn't find" her card to get into the Oasis in the first place. Brant told us that he politely reminded her that the two other full sized men that were in the sauna previously were his roommates, so she got the idea that there wasn't exactly a lot of extra space. That didn't, however, stop her from standing right next to him as he got dressed, commenting in her broken English "Mmmm,you're such a beautiful boy. Zis is a pikture I'm not forgetting..."

Budapest

We trekked on eastward, crossed the line into the post-communist part of Europe and landed in Budapest. The difference between the violins and chocolate decadence of Salzburg and the dilapidation and urban commercialism of Budapest was striking. Almost as striking, in fact, as the amount of meat and fried cheese we ate for dinner that night. Following the recommendation of the hotel concierge, we went to a traditional Hungarian restaurant specializing in the distillation of schnapps. Our overly-polite waiter handed us each a menu, but in our impatience we simply asked for "three plates of whatever those guys next to us are having." Minutes later we were delivered what can only be described as the most manly, Viking-esque meal I have ever seen, let alone eaten. Imagine a mountain of almost every type of meat (the common stuff here, no horse or dog), wrapped around cheese or bacon or both, then deep fried to a golden crisp. There were fried eggs piled on top of tender legs of duck neighboring cordon-bleu all surrounded by little peppers stuffed with raw garlic or onions. I've been trying to eat with some restraint these days, but that night all deals were off: it was a total free for all. Forks and knives blurred as the food was devoured; it was an exercise in competing for food while simultaneously trying to avoid getting stabbed. Such a heavy, fried meal isn't normally included in my diet and as a result I suffered a couple days of gastroenteritis, but I would gladly go through it again. Well, maybe not gladly, but it was worth the experience once.

One of the unique aspects of Budapest is that it lays on soil containing some of the highest percentage of hot springs in the world, and the Turks, during their occupation of Hungary in the 16th century, capitalized by building bath houses all throughout the city, the largest of which we spent an afternoon in. The water was warm, smelled of pungent sulfur, and was filled with oversized Hungarian and Italian men in undersized bathing attire. The bath had quite the array of different options, ranging from the big warm bath, to the whirlpool bath, to saunas and steam beds. Brant, Stef and I tried everything in the spirit of exploration, with longer visits to the whirlpool and more truncated stays in the 50 degrees Fahrenheit pool. It was a very relaxing afternoon, also one in which we learned that a Hungarian towel is really just a bed sheet. At first when the lady handed it to me I thought she didn't understand what I had asked for, but then when I saw other people carrying them around, I figured it was the norm. Maybe, I thought to myself, I was too quick to judge and that this thing in my hand that looked like a bed sheet had amazing drying properties, kind of like a ShamWow. Wrong. It was just a bed sheet. I was disappointed, and still wet. I used one of the wall-mounted hair dryers to finish what the sheet could not and we headed back to the hotel, warm, tired, and content.

In addition to satisfying our inner hedonism, we did see a lot of the city and learned a lot about the struggles Hungary has endured, especially in the last century. Our tour guide explained that Hungarians have almost always been a subsidiary, so to speak, of a larger power, thus Hungarians carry a follower-mentality and are having a hard time knowing how to handle their freedom. Under the 20th century grip of communism the country was stifled from any personal expression, travel, language acquisition or any of the finer points of culture. When the communist regime fell in 1989, Hungary began to flourish, but without direction; they are so accustomed to someone else holding the reigns. Today their exists a divide between the older generation and the younger generation, a contempt for the difference in lifestyle which has ultimately created a social hurdle. It will be interesting to see how Hungary evolves in the decades to come as the younger generation begins to explore and appreciate globalization and self-rule.

Vienna

Our look at Austria's capital was brief, just a stop through from Budapest to Prague, but very intriguing. The city sports monumentalist architecture: big marble buildings that seem larger than life, gleaming in the morning sun. That is, unless they are covering in infamous European scaffolding. On every trip to Europe, it seems like every other big building is being restored and hence is covered in ugly steel latticework. My dad and Brant dreamed of making it big in the scaffolding business while wandering in through the streets of Vienna and my mind wandered the the regalia of the city, a haven of fine art, fashion and exquisite cuisine. I let my thoughts further drift as I slept on the grass, enjoyed some of the first nice weather we had on the tour and I awoke to what sounding like a British band playing a hybrid between metal and alternative. I found out that they weren't English, but Teutons when they reached the chorus: "Come into the Walley of the gate!" They totally blew their cover by switching 'v' for 'w'. Classic German mistake.

Prague

The area where Austria and the Czech Republic touch is farmland. Beautiful rolling fields as far as the eye can see, either freshly plowed, or teeming with crops like sugar beets, or corn and peppered with clusters of forest. But when you reach the border itself, the scenery changes. You come into what Sigi so endearingly calls "Prostitute's Kilometer." Given the less strict regulations in the Czech Republic, the area right across the border is a place for Austrians feed their vices, whether gambling, strip clubs or underage hookers. It's a sad, depressing place, the clean countryside polluted with flashing neon signs, huge parking lots and withered faces of lives sold for sex. The Czech Republic, also caught in the limbo of post-Soviet communism is a poor country, struggling to stand fully on it's own legs. That is, however, with the exception of it's capital, Prague.

Praha, as it's called in Czech Language (yes, that's what they speak in the Czech Republic; very creative title), is an oasis, even more so than the sauna in the Salzburg Ramada. Surrounding by gray, worn towns, the city's color and vibrant energy stands in striking contrast. Creative architecture, live music in almost every plaza, art, fashion, old cars, beautiful bridges and a gorgeous castle all make Prague a destination for tourists from all over the globe. Well, that and beer that is cheaper than water.

We spent a nice couple of days touring the city, touring that which Rick Steves deemed worthwhile punctuated with coffeebreaks and people watching. After having been there twice, I feel fairly acquainted with the city, familiar with the bends of the streets, the mixing of languages and the sights it offers. The last night of the trip, we had dinner at a gorgeous restaurant Brant found, right on the waters edge with a great view of the famous Charles Bridge. It was good closure to our trip, an affirmation of the bond between our two families, and some damn tasty food to boot. The next morning we took a last stroll through the city, jumped in the cars and tore away on the Autobahn towards Germany.

My family stayed another week in Dingolshausen at the Walter's house. The time was spent relaxing, making small day trips and eating inappropriate amounts of food. As the days toward their depart wore down, it started to become more and more real to me that I wasn't going to see them for a long time, so I tried to make the most out of the remaining hours. I spent a lot of time talking with my dad, having philosophical conversations about friends, the future, his past, catching up before we fall behind again. Although the castles and art are beautiful, it's the moments with people that I treasure most; probing the wisdom and experience of someone who knows you, listens and entertains your questions is a moving, yet grounding endeavor. Building an honest, communicative relationship with my parents has been good for me, a healthy outlet, an advice post, a rally point when the waters in my life are rough. I was happy to have gotten the opportunity to share that time with my dad before we part ways for the next several months. In spending time and sharing myself with my dad, mom and brother it helped me to remember that family is transcendental, that halfway across the world they are still with me, as we are all so much a part of each other that the distinctions become blurred. I am going to miss them very much in this, the next story of my life, but I know that in a blink of an eye I'll be seeing them all again. Until then I will see and experience things that make me grow, make me humble, make me wiser and make me fuller as a person. My life in Germany started when this vacation ended, so enough typing, time to go start living.

Picture Captions (from top to bottom):

A tour of Prague in a 1932 Skoda (Czech car company) with no brakes and a top speed of 30 kph. From left to right: Brant, Reid, Dave Haflich, Sigi Walter, Erich Walter, Eileen Haflich.

Brant and I on one of Prague's many bridges.

My dad and I playing in a fountain in Budapest. There were weight sensitive stones around the inner and outer perimeter or the fountain that, when touched, would stop the flow of water in that area. We had fun playing Poseidon and getting totally soaked.

Stefan and I on a carriage ride through the countryside near Dingolshausen the week following the tour. All nine of the Haflichs and Walters were together in the same place for the first time ever.

My mom (left) and Sigi overlooking Salzburg. They get along like they've known each other their entire lives.