And from Hell she found Heaven

Beauty, Renaissance, Culture and Money are all words that spring to mind when envisioning the Italian city of Florence... for most people.

I hated it!

I know I should have been in the majority, swooning over its art and treasures that line every street, very similar to Rome and Venice. I was shocked myself but it really had no positive effect on me at all.

Arriving and locating our hotel down HELL STREET probably didn't help.

Yes, it was literally named 'hell'. Which pretty much predetermined the next two days.

The street was more of an alley way, getting narrower the further you went like something from Alice in Wonderland or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and the ground floors were home to noisy mechanics garages. The hotel was okay, not the worst room, not the best. Basic. A little grotty but it was spacious, which is a big need after being crammed into hostel rooms full of people, packed train journeys, and hot stuffy hotel rooms. The owner was a pleasant helpful little man.

The first night we ate satisfactory food at a place where we literally pointed to things on the menu as the hostess didn't speak any English. I had bruschetta, followed by a tomato based pasta. Not the great Italian dish I had hoped for...

Afterwards, we found a lovely little corner bar with odd bright coloured steel tables and chairs. I was immediately attracted to the place as it was mostly open air and it looked busy with everyone sitting outside. We followed suit and ordered a couple of glasses of their Vino Rosso just as the Canadian couple beside our table had done and chatted with them for hours. The lady had exactly the same music taste as me; singers like Otis Reading and Paulo Nutini and their restrained voices. 'Singing with sorrow' I think she called it.

All the music talk got us in the mood for a dance. Rosie had picked up a brochure for 'Space Club'... Which I must admit looked pretty cool with its fish tank bar and after a couple of bright pink cocktails and some funny photos in the teacup style seats we were on our way to having a good night! We had Italians chatting to us, were taken to the VIP area for Prosecco & nibbles and even took part in a tattoo competition...

 

...Rosie won!

Drunk, and not able to find Rosie, I settled my bar tab and made my way back to the hotel. I'd assumed Rosie had already left. With not knowing where I was I asked a group of guys where the hotel street was and one kindly walked and pointed it out. Finally! (My feet were tired). But he had other ideas... He followed me down the alley and pinned me up against the wall and tried to kiss me. I screamed, yanked away, and desperately tried to call my friend. Luckily I always keep my phone in my hand when I'm on my own. He answered. I ran.

With me hiding in a door way 2 streets away, he stayed on the phone to me until the guy had finally stopped lingering by the hotel door and I was safe. I was about to let myself into the hotel when Rosie came striding down the street, angry that I haven't been answering my phone. The last thing I needed. I walked in with Rosie in tail, text my friend to say thank you and went to bed.

I just wanted to leave the city as soon as we could.

Of course there were positives... we saw a string band who were brilliant, I'd found a Botanical Garden on my lone wonders, and generally every where we walked there was proof of the city's art history... the Ponte di Vecchio (Old Bridge), the Cathedral 'Santa Maria de Fiore' with its beautiful Duomo (dome), the busy street markets, the impressive bakery shop displays, the Boar who's snout you rub to ensure a return to the city, Michelangelo's David, Palazzo Pitti, more Bacio Gelato, and lots more.

                  

 

One thing that had a lasting impression on me (other than the shops being lined with Pinocchio which scared the hell out of me) was the view from the Basilica di San Miniato al Monte. 

 

Starting from the Piazza G. Poggi the walk to the top isn't an easy one but if you go even further, past the panoramic viewpoint of Piazzale Michelangelo designed by architect Giuseppe Poggi, you will find the Church (Basilica di San Miniato al Monte).

 

Hungover, fed up, and worn out I sipped on my refreshing, and well deserved, cup of Strawberry Granita that I'd purchased from a vendor on the climb...

 

...and scanned the dreamy Tuscan country side.

 

Heaven.

The Peace of Return

Was this reality? Was I really on route to the city that had once given me butterflies?!

My first experience in Rome was a lovely weekend spent sight seeing, eating Gelato, and walking for miles on end, and as expected, revisiting, my stomach started to somersault, the smile had re-appeared, and I began to turn into the excited little adventure girl I had been on my last visit.

I walked out of the train station, stood and took a deep breath; consuming all the smells, sights, sounds and tastes. Letting the charm of the city overwhelm me once again.

I was infatuated.

It was fairly late so we literally checked into our hotel and set our sights on the first restaurant we could find. In search of Roman style Pizza, (Roman style is thinner with a crispy base, and Napolitian style is thicker with a softer base...being in Rome, I had to try the first!) we discovered Florian's Café just around the corner. An old guy welcomed with a "Ciao Belli", gestured to the seating inside or out, and carried on clicking and clanking the Espresso machine. We took a table outside as the weather was far from that in Berlin. And yes, I ordered the Roman style Pizza.

The two waiters made such a fuss over us and remained our friends for the rest of our stay (I think I ended up having about three Espressos per day from this place)... Panna Cotta for dessert?

Need I have been asked?!

Afterwards, we took a stroll into the historical centre. I remembered the way. Although Rosie was not convinced that 'I know Rome like the back of my hand'.

I mean, we may not have taken the fastest or easiest route to the Trevi Fountains, but we got there. Witnessing it lit up in all its glory, I followed tradition and tossed a coin into the waters, praying that I'd find a way back. Again.

Being so close to a little Irish bar I knew had a good atmosphere, I suggested that we head there. We got talking to a few Americans who then took us to the river; lined with bars and pop up restaurants during the summer months it's one place where you'll see locals and tourists mingling. We got our cocktails and plonked ourselves down on huge Moroccan style floor cushions under the candle light. Just the kind of relaxation I needed before sightseeing the next day.
 
One thing to be repeated from my first visit was to sleep with the window wide open... that was not a choice this time as we'd opted for a no air-con room (fools!). I've always slept better with noise; the bustle and liveliness are carried faintly through the night up from the street... Just a shame there was no breeze with it!

Together, we visited, and without sounding like a travel guide:

The Vatican, this time I went into the museums and saw the Sistine Chapel - AMAZING! I could have spent hours there once I'd actually reached it! I was jostled around in a herd of hot, sweaty, stop to take a photo of every little thing on display, tourists.
Navona Square.
The Pantheon. Still my favourite thing in Rome. Its dominance over the square is jolting; you walk through the little streets into this fairly small square, and there it is! You're taken aback, questioning "How can something so big and bold be here!? Amongst these tiny delicate streets?!"
The Colosseo, although this time I didn't go inside. I perched myself in the sun and read a book whilst waiting for Rosie.
The little island in the river, with the best Ice Cream shop ever! Again, the Bacio Gelato.
The Monumento a Vittorio Emanuele ll, which I have nicknamed 'The Big White House' (I had previously been to the roof of this building for a panoramic view of the city, definitely not worth a miss).

...And everything in between.


Feeling a little 'Ah! Why not do everything once" I had my palm read by one of the gypsys near to the restaurant. She told me I'd live a long life and that I'd become rich from my creative ideas... (probably spiel she feeds every tourist). I am still working on this!

We ate at Bar Navona - why? Mainly because Dave and I had eaten there before and the guy getting the custom in is hilarious! He comes up to you as soon as you start to look at the outside menu. Now, usually I hate this, but he gives this speech, somewhere along the lines of..."Welcome to the right choice! You know why you made the right choice?! Because this is Navona Square, and this *scans arm to present the restaurant* is Bar Navona". Without fail, to every customer.

We enjoyed pasta, Spaghetti Carbonara, with a bottle of red wine, and on the way back to the hotel I consumed my body weight in Bacio Gelato. Again.

Half of the time spent in Rome, Rosie and I parted for the days, I took long walks, fuelled by my new found love of the syrupy Italian Espresso. She went sightseeing, and I tried to find places I hadn't seen when there the previous time. Walking around aimlessly was joyful, I could soak in my surroundings, most of all when sitting outside restaurants reading, learning Italian and watching the world go by.

The charm with Rome is that wherever you look there is something of importance, something to appreciate. Whether it is a historical monument, a ruin, a church, or another secluded cobbled back street with shutters on every apartment door and window, lined with flower boxes and the occasional Roman man leaning on the balcony railing toking on a cigarette. A local going about their every day life amidst the chaos, the endless queuing traffic and the sound of the chattery language over the beeping of Vespa horns, the women dressed as though they are straight from a catwalk show, and the handsome men, expressing with their hands, loving through their food and wine. It's as though an accordion should be playing in the background the whole time you are there.

I felt totally at peace. I absorbed it all, let out that deep breath and smiled. As John Lennon said "It was like being in the eye of a hurricane. You'd wake up in a concert and think, Wow, how did I get here?".

Upon leaving, I knew I'd be asking myself the same question again soon.

Dipping my toes in the Floating City

When someone recommends a book to me I always make a point of reading it.

Mum had put Tell it to the Skies by Erica James in my bag. She said it'd be a good holiday read. It was! I had finished it 3 days into the trip, and low and behold... It happened to be set in our next destination. Venice.

Reading it had certainly built up expectations of the city as being full of beauty, class, romance, dreams, chance meetings, happiness and old flames relighting. I was ready to be captivated! :)

Or maybe not... :(

Getting there was a total drama...did you expect anything less?! We got so delayed on the train from Vienna that we ended up missing our transfer train from Verona main land. Debating a snooze on the platform until the 6am train, we decided to just get a hotel. Great! An extra nights hotel fee and a whole night/half a day in Venice gone.

The train ride into Venice the next morning was lovely; the weather was warm, and it seemed to brighten our moods watching the Italians cruise along the waves either side of us.

Don't hold your breath...

As soon as we got off the train....it was chaos! Rosies' case lost its wheels, which under normal circumstances would have been hilarious, but we had spent two hours in the heat going up and down, and back and forth on the river buses along the Grand Canal trying to find our hotel. 

We had even seen a willy!

Explanation: A man stood in the same queue as us for the Vaporetti (water bus),  with a little too much on display. We thought maybe he had just forgot to zip up...oh we were too innocent...the next time he turned around, his whole 'ahem' was out!! EVERYTHING! In public! We could not stop laughing. Then it dawned on me. He knew! This wasnt turning out to be the romantic place my book had made it out to be! Annoyed, I scolded him with my harshest stare. After all...How dare he scar lovely, romantic, dreamy Venice.

We had walked over and across bridges that seemed to sprout from nowhere and with no chance of calling a taxi we were literally ready to give up on life...Dramatic I know, but we were in Venice.

Then I saw a Gelateria serving Bacio Gelato! :D ALAS! WE WILL NOT SINK!

Rome was where I had started my addiction to Bacio Gelato. A Ferro Roche flavoured icecream that I literally cannot get enough of when in Italy and have to make my friends try it. No choice in the matter :) 

Minds and moods cooled....Rosie phoned the hotel owner, who confirmed that our bus port was in fact closed for the day (no wonder we were so confused!), and gave us directions, which involved more bridges and case lugging! But we got there.

The room was gorgeous, like a sanctuary....and we still had half a day to explore. Yay!After checking in and freshening up, we struggled and barged our way through a thick sea of tourists all flooding to the Rialto bridge and made our way to St Marks' Square. The queue to St Marks' Basilica was too long and it would soon be closing. 

Feeling as though I wouldn't get to see/do anything whilst there, I decided to go up to the top of the Campanile (Bell Tower of St Mark). Hands on hips and an angry pout I went up in the lift. If I couldn't get to see the cathedral from the inside, I'd see the whole of it from the outside. 

I got more than I bargained for...

Breathtaking!

When my feet touched back down, Rosie and I wandered around the square, then strolled along the waters edge admiring the stalls displaying elaborate Carnivale masks and soaking in the stunning architecture and surroundings.

Settling on an outside table at Le Cafe in Campo S. Stefano (the second biggest square in Venice), and ordering a glass of Prosecco, we people watched whilst discussing how on earth a city can survive relying on water and foot as transport?! Baffled!

Rosie, half way through a sentence was cut off by me wavering a finger for her to quickly turn around and look. "THERE!". A group of guys who we had got talking to on the delayed train had also spotted us and were walking over. What a small world. City. Same same.

We arranged to meet up at St Marks' Square later that evening, and from there, decided to eat at a place our hotel owner had recommended. Locating the original Ae Oche Pizzeria, Santa Croce 1552, wasn't hard, and it was away from the real touristy diners which I liked. 
The only way to describe this place is Italian food met American style. It was casual; perfect for 7 young, budgeting travellers who were starving!

I opted for Melon wrapped in Parma ham for starters, and also tried some of Rosies' deep fried Mozzerella balls. Yummy! For mains I ordered Spaggetti with seafood sauce. Well...Venice, water, sea, sea food. It had to be done.

We all shared a large jug of house Vino Roso (Red Wine) and after our meal, we had a nightcap in a bar close by that was packed with locals. Kicking out time came. Not wanting to go to bed, or leave the dog that had taken a liking to me and cosied up on my lap, we made our way to Erbaria square, ordered our tipples from Al Pesador restaurant and sat on the waters edge chatting and drinking. I slid off my shoes and dipped my toes into the floating city's foundations, swishing them around to make ripples. Captivated.

The next morning I woke EARLY... and took in everything around me as I strolled through the mornings' market; the fresh catch being hawled onto the iced covered fish stalls, Italian words being flung from dealer to dealer, fruit being hung and displayed ready for the customers. Customers who were all still tucked in their hotel beds :) BLISS!

Crossing over the Rialto bridge.....touristless this time. I skipped down the steps like a girly girl, letting my dress blow in the wind, like something from a movie; convinced that James Bond would be round the corner ready for me to fall into his arms... One can only dream.

Upon reaching St Marks' Square again I saw the tourists, cameras at the ready, disembarking for the cathedral tour. I turned and headed in the opposite direction, planning to...well...to get well and truely lost!

I had some logic; I knew I couldn't get off the island without water transport, so realistically I could never be too lost. And this is how I discovered the Dali museum, of whose work I studied at A Level, so I waltzed around it for about 2 hours admiring the soft, delicate, dainty sculptures he'd created. I felt like this after dipping my toes in the water, a high contrast to how I'd been feeling less than 24 hours before.

The book remains one of my favourites. It had so many unguessable twists and turns...reflecting our time in Venice perfectly. Both had managed to reduce me to tears, laughter, anger, contentness, and had left me with fond memories to look back on. I slowly and dreamily made my way back to meet Rosie at the Rialto bridge, which was now rammed with tourists.

It was time to leave.

Time to be reunited with an old flame...

The Beauty of Desire

Hostel located. Wiiiiiiiiiiith a brothel next door. Were we back in Dam?!

My first impressions of Vienna were far from positive. It seemed as though our European travels were doomed. It was late, it was dark, we'd had trouble finding the correct train station, a guy had hassled us for money (Apparently, volunteering to help two ladies carry their cases down 24 steps involves a fee!). The taxi driver couldn't find the hostel, and I hate to admit, we had even opted to eat a KFC. The one thing I hate doing when abroad. 

No...we did not give the guy any money. I'm stubborn :)

Waking up the next morning was NOT delightful in the slightest.

After a 10 minute bus journey in to the city centre, which we didn't bother paying for (Naughty!), I jumped off the bus with the most enthusiasm I could muster (not much), looked up... 

...and was stunned by the pure beauty of absolutely everything! Buildings, parks, shops, monuments. All so...clean, white, big. Grand. Classy. All so...WOW!

I whipped my map and notes out. Where would I start?!

 

I'd circled the things I wanted to see; the Haus House, St Stephen's Cathedral, the Opera house, the Anchor Clock. But it seemed that everywhere I looked there was already something beautiful, ready to be marvelled at.

This was the city to take that opportunity. To stand back and soak in the beauty. I folded my map and placed it back in my pocket.

B's 'itchy feet' had been allowed to stand still and let life catch up with them.

If I hadn't mentioned already, this was my time out. My travelling was a time for me. I hate to say it, but it was set aside to 'find myself', to not rely on a man to make me happy. Going from seeing someone every day for 4 years, to being totally alone was bound to have an effect.

It is said that "the desire of a man is for the woman, but the desire of a woman is for the desire of the man" (Samuel Taylor Coleridge). The beautiful paiing by Klimt known as 'The Kiss' made me stand still and contemplate this. I was trying to figure it out. What does it mean? For about half an hour I must have stood in awe. Thinking; Is the woman enjoying the embrace? Is she almost pulling away? Are they in love? What does it represent?

I came to only one conclusion, 'He adores her'.

Right there and then I told myself I'd made the right choice by leaving. I'd never felt that. Okay, I'd felt attracted to and loved, but never adored. I smiled to myself, maybe one day, but for now it was just me. I had all the time in the world to be desired.

After all this deep thought; staring at the gold encrusted painting, smiling silly to myself, nodding in agreement with my realisations, and the occasional passer by giving me the 'what a weirdo' look, Rosie took her cue in falling off her seat and our bursts of 'bhahahahaha!' laughter pierced the silence of the room. I suppose there's only so much space for serious sentiment, and then you just need a good old laugh to cleanse the soul. Perfect timing on Rosies part if you ask me! :)

After a whole day of moments like this, marvelling and then being brought back to reality by hilarious things happening (I wont go into detail; I would only end up saying 'You had to be there!'), we'd worked up a monsterous appetite.

FOOD!!!!

Budget permitting we couldn't eat like kings every night, so we adopted a German speaking Belgium guy (as you do) and went for a cheap meal in a Bistro bar. The traditional Austrian dish Wiener Schnitzel was ordered (a thin piece of breadcrumbed deep-fried veal), served with a slice of lemon and a potato side dish, and accompanied by a pint of Ottakringer, the local beer. Filling!!

We burnt off the calories with a little walk through the streets in search of a place for the next part of the meal. Dessert. Oh no... I was about to burst as it was.

That's when we discovered Restaurant 1070.

The hostess invited us to sit at a small table outside with a big, warm, welcoming smile. Straight away I took a liking to her. She was brilliant; very helpful and also had a laugh and joke with us. We allowed her to choose us a typical wine from the region, and as we talked about the day, she poured our tipple. Giving us each a glass of water  too, "because when you drink red wine you always need the water!" she said as she raised her eyebrows. Uni days and Rosie's Mulled wine = OH! We know!

When we asked to look at the dessert menu, she told us to leave it to her... and I'm more than pleased we did!

1. Because they have no menus, and 2. Because the next thing we know, we each have a beautifully served selection plate placed infront of us.

I dug in.

More than 1 year on, I can't exactly remember what the desserts were, but my memory recalls a zesty orange sorbet? A pear mouse? And a dark berry chocolate cake? I just remember thinking 'My golly gosh. These are Delicious!'.

THIS was the reason I had travelled. I had desired food. I was hungry for more and now I was being fed.



Rain & Concrete

From the minute we arrived in Berlin, to the minute we left, it rained.

Not just a light drizzle...but a proper down pour....for two days and nights. I'm not even exaggerating. It rained straight. No break. No ease off. Just constant rain!

I mean, I've got nothing against rain personally, it's rather quite alleviating to sqeeze your tootsies into an old pair of wellies and go puddle jumping, and I'm certianly not one to let a bit of wet weather 'rain on my parade' as such. I am English after all. But still, I am sure Berlin would have been a tad more enjoyable and interesting had we not been soaked down to our knickers the whole duration!
 
The upside was the hotel, Meininger Hauptbahnhof...after Amsterdam we were thankful to get back to a clean, non smelly room, sharing with two other girls. The bathroom was huge! Compared to Dam it felt like luxury! On the downside, rain aside, everything around us seemed...modern...no culture to sink in to, no obvious signs that 'Yes! We are in Berlin'. It just seemed sooooo...
 
...concretey. (Yes, I'm aware that Rosie and I just add a 'y' onto the end of everything to describe it).

We were going to join a free tour, starting from our hotel the next morning, but they just seemed to depart without telling anyone, so we missed it. We decided to brave the city alone, which was fine, until...

Well, imagine how lost we got trying to navigate our way around RAINY, CONCRETEY, BERLIN using a paper map! Struggle, would be an understatement.

Poor Rosie!

Both wet, fed up, and hands covered in ink, Rosie wanted to join the back of another tour group, but I just thought it was intrusive, so we carried on to the Jew Memorial. The sentiment was ruined, by the rain...and the mood we were both now in. We carried on to the grafitied part of the Berlin Wall and the Potsdamer Platz where I was looking to grab something to eat. Rosie however, having not thought about rain, having travelled to Europe without waterproofs, was more soaked than me and just wanted to get to the Museum fur Naturkunde (Natural History museum). So that's where we went, with a quick attempt at visiting the Reichstag building along the way. I wanted to go inside the dome roof specifically for the 360 degree view of the city, but there was a political event resulting in the whole building being closed off to visitors (who also have to pre-book on a normal day). We weren't having the joyess of times so far! 

As fascinating as it was, especially the planetaritum, there are only so many dead animals in jars I can take in one sitting. So Rosie suggested we go back to the hotel, dry off, then head back this way, to visit the Berlin Wall. I knew she wasn't too fussed about seeing the only peice of the Berlin wall that is still in tact, in its original form, so I said I'd go and meet her back at the hotel later on.
 
My first lone venture! Of many to come. I hid the map up my sleeve and kept my head down as I walked through...what I can only describe as, the Berlin Ghetto, to reach my destination.  

I was overwhelmed when I saw the wall...yes, because it took me ages to find it and I'd walked around in circles and was still wet, but mainly because of having had a Granddad who loved and breathed history; war stories and pictures from books came flooding back to me. I blamed the rain for ruining my mascara.
 
After drying off and glaming up, we discovered a Traditional German restaurant, Nante-Eck, Unter den Linden. It was busy. We waited about 20minutes for a table in the small bar area, which is more or less a hallway from the front door to the dining area. The staff were dressed in breeches; all looking like they had stepped out of the 1920's. We were seated, given English translated menus, and asked what we'd like to drink. Berlin Beer! (Berliner Weisse!).

I just HAD to try the Berlin Ham Knuckle (Schweinshaxe) with Sauerkraut, potatoes and a pea puree.

This was delicious! Fiddly, what with trying to get the utensils between the bone and fat for a good fork full of meat, but it was so moist and juicy once you'd got there. I'd definitely eat this again.

(Okay, there's nothing much I wont eat!).
 
Did this fill me up? Yes! Of course. But there's always room for Warm Apple Struddle with Vanilla sauce and whipped cream. Mmmmmm. I've always had a thing about the contrast of a hot dessert accompanied by something cold. Although, that is usually a Fab lolly with a cup of tea :)
 
The prices suited the good, solid, tasty portions. So for two newly qualified students with no jobs who had spent the last day cold, miserable and wet, this was ideal!
 
I used to have a book when I was little that had ideas of things to do on a rainy day. Appropriately titled 'Save it for a Rainy Day'.... It probably didn't feature Berlin.

Are you ready to see Vienna now B?! YES YES YES!!!! "BYE BYE RAIN!"

DAM BABY!

So, after seeing and experiencing such an amazing country and culture I arrived home. As wonderful as it was to spend time with my family and friends it only took 2 weeks to feel...hmmm...deflated.

What was I going to do now? Search for a job? Settle down in a career? Nothing really seemed to appeal to me...apart from one thing...packing my bags and going. Where? Anywhere.

So I started planning.

Any body who was foolish enough to listen was given a run down of all the countries I wanted to step foot in. Customers I served at the restaurant, Tescos till workers, taxi drivers, my hair dresser, my boss, and even her cat!

My friend from university suggested that she join me, and that we should go on a 25 day Contiki tour. I was up for this, as I'd never really booked a flight alone before (Mummy?!). So we started searching for a good deal.

It was only when our tutor told us that it'd be more tailored for what we wanted if we organised it ourselves. Rosie didn't really fancy this idea, but was happy to let me organise it for the both of us. Something I was more than ecstatic about getting stuck in to...

...Ordering our Interrail tickets, googling the top 10 things to do in each city, what to try food wise, and even scheduling in toilet breaks. I had embraced the challenge.

First stop. Amsterdam. AKA 'DAM BABYYYYYYYYY!!'.

When thinking of Amsterdam, I am taken back to an episode of Sex and the City when Carrie gets high, I quote, "smoking a doobie", and caught by the police. This became the catch phrase for our duration in Dam, and by the time we left, there wasn't a single person in the city who hadn't heard us say it.

The destination is well known for its' open attitude towards sex and for giving a whole new meaning to the 'coffee shop', but which has so much more to offer;

The Anne Frank museum, Van Gogh exhibition, its canals, Heineken factory, free guided tours starting from Dam Square, the Tulip museum...

      

...and the experiences it provides; 

 

'homemade ice-cream' morning treats from Metropolitan Deli, test tube shots of Jagermeister on the Red Light District pub crawl, the Moulin Rouge sex show, De Dampkring 'coffee shop' (as seen in Oceans 12), trams and bikes coming at you from all directions, the constant business and buzz of the city, and a personal favorite...getting to your hostel and having to hawl your 10 ton case up 20 floors of steep, narrow, winding stairs, bruising every limb along the way. Thanks Dam!

 

                           

 

After a hectic days travel, we searched for the closest decent restaurant we could find and came across a little Tapas bar, Cafe Del Mondo, facing De Waag (the old doctors public disection theatre) in Nieuwmarkt square. We grabbed a table outside and people watched as we ordered our first local taste of 'Krachtlager'. On the second drink, we were presented with a wonderful variety of Spanish meatballs, Patatas Bravas, Sweet and Spicy chicken wings, Lamb Sausages, and Chicken Satay. The perfect start to an, eventful, evening...

...We enrolled on the bar crawl and knocked back the Jagar. All was well, we were on about the 4th bar, and joint. Just, urm...nobody warned B that it wasn't correct proccedure to smoke 'coffee' and consume copious amounts of alcohol at the same time! Knees weak, she hit the floor and a bouncer rushed to carry her out. Rescued by the old sugared water and a large Mars bar technique, she was ready to go, back into the bar, but Rosie suggested home. Pity. The giggles hadn't even set in yet!

Maybe I had the munchies, or maybe it was the damp walls of the hostel, constant strong smell of marijuana in our room, and sharing with 8 men, that made me glad to search for some of Dam's food speciality.

Stampot.

Stampot is one of those real homely dishes, that closely compares to a Casserole; potatos (mashed with sauerkraut), beans, bacon, gravy, sausage and a meatball.

It was recommended that we visit De Keuken Van 1870, and as soon as I stepped in the door of this informal, traditional restaurant, I knew why. We were skurried to a raised table in the window that over looked the whole dinning area. 'Great!' I thought. 'I can see what everyone is ordering' :)

The menu was on a blackboard at the back of the room, I already knew what I came for, but I needed to have a nosey at what was on offer anyway. So I squeezed through the communal style room (long benches, with all kinds of parties, and people that didn't know eachother, who had had to squeeze together to let more customers in). It was busy, and people came and went in such speed, the music was drowned out by loud chatter, and plates were clanging. The restaurant and its' staff didn't concentrate on 'the perfect customer service', but more, 'lets get these people fed!'. They were giving tumblers out as wine glasses, the waitress slopped our plates infront of us, and we could hear the buzz from the kitchen coming into the dining area. Yet, the vibe was comforting, relaxing even, and I didn't want to leave, especially afer tasting their food! Potatos (mashed with sauerkraut), beans, bacon, gravy, sausage and a meatball...Rich and filling...who wouldn't want to scuff it down as quick as possible!? That...and we had a show to watch!

The morning after, hungover and well and truely flabbergasted at what people are willing to do on stage for money, we made our way to the station, stopping at Prins Heerlijk for breakfast, 10 ton case in hand.

As we ate muffins and drank our English tea, we reflected on the last 48 hours of craziness we'd just encountered, and the same tutors' philosophy came to mind "If you're not living life on the edge, you're taking up too much room". I smiled to myself. Two days in to our European tour...and it already felt like we were about to fall off!

Or maybe those weren't ordinary muffins!? . . .