A quick look at the trip

We have crashed a wake.
"Where is the church?"
"Oh, you better hurry girls it starts in 10 mins!"
"We gather here today, to remember the life of Patti O´Brian."
"Oh, shit."

Walked accross Spain.
320 kms in 12 days.
Visited Aushwitz.
Walked by the baptismal font of St. John the Baptist and been in the home of the Virgin Mother. Walked through the Garden of Eden and slept in a cave. Visited the temples of Aphrodite, Artemis and Apollo.
Lived with a turkish family and seen their avid love for Attaturk. (it is literally illegal to make any sort of derogitory comment about him. youtube was banned because the government found out that there was a video that could have been making fun of him.)
We have gotten dizzy off of plutonium and eaten some amazing soups with brown bread.
A wonderful trip on all accounts!

Our Compostela

We have just arrived in Santiago de Compostela and received our certificates of completion. They are written in Latin and state that "Dnam Vivianam Lyons" has successfully walked across Spain.
Tomorrow we will attend the mass where our names, nationalities and places or origin will be announced. We will also be given a free meal at a five star hotel if we present our certificates. Yummm!!!

Over the last 320 kms and 12 days, I have been reflecting on my life thus far and trying to decide where I want to go next. I think my current plan is to go into nursing and study natural medicine. I will pick up the violin again and spend time researching nutrition and sustainable gardening. Already, I know that half of my closet will make its way to a Goodwill, and I want to start volunteering regularly. Mostly I want to continue to live life to its fullest.

Our Camino Family

We have managed to collect quite a Camino family made from all sorts of people.
One Italian farm boy named Aureliano who only eats, drinks and sleeps.
Dan, the American who wishes he could be a veggitarian but can never actually stop eating meat, thinks the Camino is a race, loves pasta and joking about Aureliano.
The two girls from Leipzig, Patrizia and Stephanie, who are the most chill Germans on the Camino.
The Spanish Señor who is completing his 8th Camino de Santiago in his late 60s. He offered all of us invaluable support, councel and medical help with our blisters and heat rashes.
Michel, the 25 year old from Luxembourg who flyes home on Sunday and on Monday starts his first job. (Really the first time he has ever worked in his life! Although he is starting as a lawyer...)
Jurgen the German marathoner who we saw for a day until he stoped and chatted with the group and asked for a final photo as "I walk much faster than you do!" We have not seen him since.
The Camino attracts so many different people who can bond over blisters, hunger, incapacitation, sunburns and attempting to communicate with a host of languages.

I think the moment that deserves mention was when we had stopped at one of the rest areas and Aureliano fell asleep on one of the benches. After a few minutes, he sat up, jamed a ton of chips into his mouth and fell back down asleep.
Jurgan looked at us and said deadpan, "Ziz is not a life."
Absolutly capturing the pilgrim culture that we have only just begun amassing on our Pilgrimage.

The Beginning of the Camino

We started the Camino de Santiago 311 kms away from our destination as the sun came up. Walking through the streets trying to become used to following with blind faith any sort of marker. Our signs range from a metal scallop shell on the sidewalk, a metal foot imprint on the sidewalk, white pillers with blue and yellow stamps of scallops on them (seen at a distance), large yellow arrows painted on walls and streets, small faded yellow arrows on the backs of streetsign poles, a random yellow brick and stones arranged in the shape of an arrow. The best part is that you can walk for 2 km before seeing another sign- they just assume that you know not to turn off of the road.
So our first day, we planned a 30 km walk accross a flat desert-like area, and found out later once we had arrived, that it was actually 40! (The guide books and markers usually post incorrect distances.) We spent a wonderful evening with some Brazilians and in the morning planned a 25 km walk. Again, the guides decived us and we walked 40.
Our third day we managed to walk an actual 25 km, and realized that only 3 days into our 2 week long Camino, we had managed to cover 1/3 of the distance!
The Spanish people are a predictable mix of reactions. While the younger generation could care less, the elderly come up to us and say, "Buen Camino!" and offer us sweets and other encouragment.
Although it is a brutal walk, it offers many rewarding opportunities to connect with international people and locals alike.

"No you´re not." -sister so-and-so

We arrived in León today to begin our Camino de Santiago. Armed with our pilgrims passports, almost no baggage and a handy guide book, we arrived at our first alburges! The sweet nun who opened the door confirmed that indeed we were at an alburge, and then asked us why we wanted to know.
"We are pilgrims!" We said.
She looked at us, and then said "No you´re not!" while laughing. She refused to believe that we had chosen to walk the 300 km with less than the usually seen 20kg on our back.
She did let us in however and we chatted with the other pilgrims before heading out to see León. What a beautiful place and wonderful start to our Camino.

An Update

We have finished our tour of Turkey, spent a day in Brussels and are now in Barcelona. One of my new favorite cities. We have spent the night at a four star hotel in Latvia and are about to start our pillgrimage accross Spain. I will make sure to do frequent updates while we are walking.

Eat Monkeys! Have a Good Life!

The Best Shopkeeper Pick-Up Lines

"Let me help you to spend your money!"

"I love you! Will you marry me?"

"Can I have your pictures?"

"Hey Mami! How many chickens for your daughters? I pay any price!"

"Lady, you dropped something!" "No, I didn't!" "Please take my heart!"

"Texas?!? BANG BANG! KAPOW!!! You want to order??? BANG BANG!!!"

"You are from Seattle? I am from Chicago! My name is Simon, Simon Bond. 007, Bond. Come you into my shop?"

"Hello! I am talking to you! Why are you walking away? I am here!!!"

"Where are you from? France? Australia? Italy? Canada? Holland? Germany?"

"Buy one, get ME Free!!!!"

The Garden of Eden

There ıs a regıon ın Turkey called Cappadoıca, that ıs wıdely consıdered to be the Garden of Eden. It ıs thıs mountaın fılled desert that was covered ın snow. One can easıly ımagıne a lush valley tucked away between two mountaın ranges.
There are cıtıes nestled ınto the faıry chımneys and clıff faces- carved ınto the stone. They are so unbelıvably unıque! We would drıve up to a cıty - a full sızed cıty!- and not see ıt untıl we were a few hundred yards away!!
Here are some lınks to photos of the area:
http://turkeyistanbul.com/images/news/duyurular/cappadocia.jpg
http://www.turkeygoldentours.com/Image_Depo/CAPPADOCIA_17.JPG
http://e-turkey.net/turkeyguide/d/14434-2/cappadocia_goreme_s7300992.jpg

We only spent a full nıght there, but ıt was lovely and very ınterestıng to sleep ın a cave! Very cold too!

Tree Flockıng the Bride

Ülkü and Ertan were generous enough to invite us to a Turkish wedding. There was lots of excıtment on Ülkü's part whıle dressing and bedazzling us. We arrived in Eskişehir the morning of the wedding and spent a lovely Valentines Day walking on the cannal.
That night - dressed to the nines - we made our way to a football fıeld sized salon packed with covered chaırs and adorned wıth bıg bows. We sat ın our chaırs and talked wıth the famıly untıl the Brıde and Groom were anounced by a spotlıght on the mırror ball.
The lıghts dımmed, the volume went up and the flashıng dısco lıghts started! Then, the Brıde and Groom appeared ın the doorway and stood there whıle a fıreworks dısplay began - framıng them. We were all suprısed that the Brıdes haır (whıch was almost a foot hıgh and covered ın haırspray) dıd not a) catch on fıre or b)collapse her spıne.
After the sıgnıng ceremony, they got up for theır fırst dance as newlyweds.

To the sweet serenade of HERO by Enrique Iglesias. (Here ıt ıs!)
Let me be your hero
Would you dance if I asked you to dance? Would you run and never look back? Would you cry if you saw me cryin'? And would you save my soul tonight?
Would you tremble if I touched your lips? Would you laugh? Oh please tell me this Now would you die for the one you loved? Hold me in your arms tonight
I can be your hero, baby I can kiss away the pain I will stand by you forever You can take my breath away
Would you swear that you'll always be mine? Or would you lie? Would you run and hide? Am I in too deep? Have I lost my mind? I don't care, you're here tonight
I can be your hero, baby I can kiss away the pain I will stand by you forever You can take my breath away
Oh, I just want to hold you I just want to hold you, oh yeah Am I in too deep? Have I lost my mind? Well, I don't care, you're here tonight
I can be your hero, baby I can kiss away the pain I will stand by you forever You can take my breath away
I can be your hero, baby I can kiss away the pain And I will stand by you forever You can take my breath away You can take my breath away
I can be your hero

As the staıns started, the dısco ball swırled and the mırror ball threw brıght beams of collored lıghts everywhere. But these small dısplays were no match for the multıtude of fıreworks, conffettı, bubbles and fog. We thought we had seen ıt all! Untıl a man approached wıth an aerosol can ın hand at the clımax of the song and tree flocked the Brıde!

The musıc they turned on had a hınt of eardrum rupture and the volume was generous. We counteracted thıs by stuffıng pıeces of dınner napkın ınto our ears. There were hours of dancıng and ıt was soo much fun. Also, there was not a drop of alchohol and everyone enjoyed themselves. Refreshıng!

Sister Share

So, Rosie and I have spent the last week doing a home stay with the parents of Gocke, one of my Dad's friends. They are wonderful, loving people whose hospitality goes above and beyond anything we could hope for. Staying with them has been a blessing and privilage. However, sometimes their generosity can be gastronomically overwhelming. For example, we sat down to lunch today with a lovely bowl of chicken broth, risotto and chickpeas. Having finished our soups, we were given slices of stuffed eggplant. It was filled with spiced ground beef and fresh sauteed veggies. At this point we thought we were done. However, we had not even seen the home-made pizza or the spinach stuffed boerrik. Following this we were given a lovely dessert of syrup soaked pumpkin slices. For this part of the meal, we engaged in what we call, 'Sister Share.'
Ulku, the mother, has never had daughters and loves the idea of children sharing equally. So, when she wants to feed us, she calls it 'Sister Share.' We use sister share to refer to the practice of helping each other clean our plates. At lunch, Rosie took a third of my pumpkin, as I could not possibly finish. In return, I ate half of her beef in the 6 course dinner we were served only four hours after lunch. Sometimes 'Sister Share' presents challenges such as the steathy transfer of food.
We hope, that with the arrival of my mom, we will be able to redirect Ulku's affections away from ourselves.

Canceled and Delayed

Last week, we woke up at 4 am and took the night bus to Dublin International Airport for our 7 am flight. After a tango with a representive who was very fond of rules and regulations, and several fees later, we were on our way to security.

We need to take a moment to mention our previous encounters with security checkpoints. I have managed to bypass five of them, without anything being siezed. Even though the contents of my carryons include: a large swiss army knife, many locks and abnormally large padlocks, sealed glass containers, unlabled pills, batteries, needles, a multitude of various liquids, satelite transmitters, and god knows how many chords.

Rosie, on the other hand, carries only clothing and one water bottle. Said bottle, or "flask" as it so often called, has managed to send flags up and down the security line. It usually goes a little something like this.

"Miss, is this your bag?" "yep." "Is this a flask?" "yep." "Is it empty?" "yep." "Miss, please remove the flask from your bag." "yep."

The flask is then removed as if it was a hand grenade sans pin, and thoroughly inspected. After they are convinced that she didn't have anthrax, agent orange, or all of al queda, tucked away in it we are allowed to continue. On one occation, Rosie was given an agressive pat-down, complete with a hand inside the pants.

At one point, Rosie also had in her possesion one 150 mg container of expensive lotion from Macy's. That was until we went through the security at Salzberg.

To me, "Miss, what is that dark blackish blue blob?" "Just a padlock." "Ok, thats fine. And are these glasses?" "Yep." "Great, have a nice flight." To Rosie, "Miss, what is this?" "Lotion." "Miss, you are not allowed to carry more than 100 mg of liquid onto a flight. We are going to have to confinscate this." They were unimpressed with the fact that half of the container was empty.

At the Dublin Airport however, they did decide to confinscate my swiss army knife. And Rosie was given the above mentioned pat-down, as well as the standard water bottle inquisition.

When we finally got to the gate, we sat down and began setteling in. On our intinerary, we had three separate flights booked with different airlines. The first was with Ryanair from Dublin to Luton, London. The second from Luton to Istanbul with Easyjet. And a third with Turkish Air from Istanbul to Ankora. All flights were booked close together to minimize the airport experience.

As we sat munching on the rare treat of organic baking, things were looking pretty good. That is, until we heard this announcment. "Flight number FR 332 departing to Luton, London has been canceled, as this airport has been closed. Passengers are asked to collect checked baggage." We sat there in stunned silence as we realized we just missed all three of our flights.

Then I ran to baggage claim and Rosie raced to the Ryanair counters with three hundred of our closest friends. After waiting in the endless line, we were able to get a full refund from the lovely representative.

At this point, for the first time in twenty years, a gentle snow began to blanket Dublin.

Meanwhile, it was time to scout out the next flight to Istanbul. The only option was via Turkish Air, departing in one hour. We negotiated at ticketing for the lowest possible fairs, then raced through security again, ("Ma'am! Is this your flask?!"), arriving at the gate just in time to board. We snuggled into our comfy seats, accepted bags of hazelnuts and free drinks, and waited for take off.

Four hours later, we were asked to please disembark the flight, as it had been delayed. We were encouraged to walk around the terminal, and informed that our baggage was being kept in the airplane's hold.

One hour later, the departure board listing of "Istanbul Flight TA976" began to flash CANCELED.

Moments later it was joined by every other departing flight. And we were informed by a friendly representive via loudspeaker that Dublin Airport was now closed.

The difference between man and beast has never been so small. Instant panic insued, as the masses began to push towards baggage. Again we joined by many people we would grow to know and love in the endless lines winding back from the counters. This time though, we knew we could wait until the flight was resceduled - as we had booked all of the way with Turkish Airlines. So we did what any true Seattlite does when in a dilema. We paid a visit to the airports Starbucks (which refused to take my Starbucks card), and walked away with two peppermint hot chocoloates.

Then I settled into bag guarding and baby watching with the other passengers from canceled flight TA976. While Rosie braved the que. Or rather the pool of chaos that was referred to as the que. Teams were quickly formed as we waited our turn to speak with the hassled counter girls for ticket refunds, itinerary changes, and hotel bookings. On Rosie's side was June, a sixty year old grandmother from the countryside who had a mouth of a sailor, Alex a flamingly gay 22 year old Israeli American, and Laura a sassy dublin-ite.

At 11 that night, we were bussed to a hotel where we were allowed 3 hours sleep before making our way back to the now familiar Dublin Airport. We spent that morning and afternoon waiting at the gate while the plane waited for the only de-icer the airport had. We were number 54 in the que. Finally, we took off and spent a lovely flight to Istanbul and then Ankora.

The People You Meet in Hostels

Over the course of our trip, we have encountered many strange people. This post is an attempt to illustrate just how bizzare some of them are.

We arrived in Krakow one night and met the only other hosteler, an American who told us he was leaving the next morning to return to teaching English in the Ukrain. We saw him the next morning as we left to go explore, and he said goodbye. When we got back that night, he was still sitting at the same computer, obviously not in the Ukrain. We sort of chatted, and he asked about our trip, then how old we were. When I said 18, and Rosie, 19, he exclaimed, 'OH! Your just kittens!'

The next morning, while Rosie and I sat there, eating breakfast, he came into the kitchen and asked if we were making out. And then he laughed. He would have other men over, and they would talk about girls they were meeting on online sites. But he whole 3 days we were there, he never once left the hostel, and in fact, was still there when we checked out. Most likely, he is still there.

Another interesting person we met was in Prague, his name is Geoff, and he is a New Zelander. He has written a screenplay about the doomed romance of a prostitute named Lucky and a bum. They meet on a subway and help eachother out of their respective bottomless pits. It is a charming story that leaves you wondering about the nature of forgivness and asking yourself how you want to die. He was looking for a producer and recommended that we see the torture museum before we left the city.

Here in Galway, there is a group of French people. I honestly don't know if it is culturally acceptable to stare in France, but these people will not stop. One of them is particularly avid. He will sit there for half an hour, just staring at you...not saying anything...not looking anywhere else...

We met a girl the other day, who was in the room of some aquaintences. Apparently, she kept asking about Katie's laptop. 'Can I hold it?' 'What kind of laptop is it?' 'Can I touch it?' 'Where are you from?' 'Can I hold it?' Katie was so scared this girl was going to take the laptop and run off with it, that she slept with it in her arms.

There was a man we met who would have been at home on the Lord of the Rings set. He was about 7 feet tall, had massive amounts of flaming red hair, and kept an obscene moustach in a very, very, long braid. Something about him said he would be happy to swing an axe or broadsword over his head.

Although we have had our share of bizzare roomates, the people we meet in hostels are wonderful and fun to go out with. We spend almost every night with a different group of people we meet around the communal breakfast bowl of cereal.

Going to Gallway

This morning, Rosie and I were waiting by the bus stop on the side of the road for the 1:40 bus to Gallway, when along came a small green bus at 1:35. We asked the bus driver if he was going to Gallway, and he said, "Gallway? You are trying to go to Gallway? Well, Christ. You can't get to Gallway from here. I'll tell you what, just hop on and um, I'll bring you ten minutes down the road where there is a bus stop to Gallway. You can be sure to get a ride there." And so we hopped on with a shrug as he refused to charge us anything. Pretty soon we were racing by the country side, being introduced over the buses intercom, hearing the histories of castles off in the distance and stopping by famine cottages. We found out that the Ford's, Kennedy's and Reagan's all came from such abandonded stone cotages. Then, we drove out to this huge outcropping of stone, and were told this is where we wait for a bus. There was a five foot shoulder and no bus stop sign. We were in the middle of nowhere. However, the bus driver did make sure that we had a sign that read "Gallway Please." It seemed like we had been takin out of civilization, where a bus was scheduled to come, and dumped on the corner of the world, where a ride seemed a little unlikely. However after a minute, we were picked up by some people from Philladelphia. They were able to take us all of the way to Gallway, and we ended up spending not a penny getting there. With a wonderful story to boot.

One Hot Chocolate, To go, Please

It is a very very big deal in Europe if they have to go items.
Rosie walked into a Cafe to get a hot chocolate and there was a very cute red head behind the bar. And after she heard what Rosie wanted, she squeeled, and said "Oh!!! I think we do have to go cups!!! I just saw them the other day!" Then, as she began to steam the milk, "oh!! this is my favorite part, aside from when I get to put the coco powder ontop of the cream!" And then, just because she had had such a wonderful time, she gave Rosie a 50% discount.
Gotta love the Irish.

Tralee

The land of my ancestors. It feels wonderful, and I have found the church where my family attended and where my brother was baptized. And, big news, I read my first word in persian today! I have been learning the alphabet and the sounds and I pieced together this word, and checked it in a dictionary, and I was right!
On a different note, Rosie and I are so taken with Ireland, that we extended our stay by a week and plan on enjoying more of the country. It is amazing to say my name and not have to specify that indeed, Lyons is spelled with a y instead of an i. Everyone here writes it down perfectly.

Eire

We have spent only a full day in Ireland, but have fallen in love with it. The countryside is amazing and there is such a raw beauty that comes with the intense green and cold winds. Although we have not yet seen any holy wells, Rosie and I have started to pick up accents and have both dyed our hair. The stews are amazing and Tralee feels like home already. Today we will hunt down some good black pudding, soda bread and fiddlin'. Tomorrow, we head for the Aran Isles.

The Way of the Breast.

In Vienna, people give directions to follow the direction a bare breast of a statue points.

We have found it to be a tired metropolitain with superb metro station food, insane prices for the smallest possible cup of coffee and a sanitary biscut. But we have met more people in the hostel from all over the world. We are all using Vienna as a jump board to other more exciting and cheap places. Can you imagine a city where a ticket to the opera is cheaper than an esspresso? It is an interesting place to be sure. And after just a day, we are eager to leave.

Goodbye to Prague

We ended up spending tons of time in Prague, and getting to know all of the small side streets. There is this one cafe on St. Wescales Square called Dobra Cajovna. If you ever get a chance to go, order the Yogi tea and the hummus plate. Make sure to stroll around the Little Quarter and follow the smallest streets. They will lead you to the most precious places, visited only by the local families that own the houses lining the winding streets.
Perhaps one of the best places to sit in cafes. Cheap coffee with an abundence of character and the same bartender that worked when the cafe opened 200 years ago. Make sure to walk by the Sex Toy Museum and see the man who has the large rat collection he displays on his dog. We met this great Canadian we hung out with for a few days.

Krakow and Aushwitz

We arrived in Krakow in the middle of a once a year fundraiser. There was this huge band stage set up in the middle of the town square with colored lights sweeping the entire population of Poland, gathered in the tiny square. They were playing polish rock and roll and at 10 o'clock, when they started playing a Bob Marley song, everyone dissapeared within seconds. Bizzar. The people are so friendly, and the city has a very metropolitain feel to it - almost like a mini New York.
Aushwitz is hard to explain. There was room after room of suitcases and baby's shoes that were tied together so they would not loose one of them. We saw the bolts of fabric made from womens hair that was like any fabric you would see in the states, and hallways of photos that the SS took when they were registering people. Some of them are smiling.
There were rooms with photos and information of people who were starved. Videos of bodies burning and children post-experimentation. Apparently, 500 children survived the camp. There were tours of the gas chambers and crematoriums and empty silouetts of hanging platforms riddled around.
There were guard towers everywhere and the mocking "work will set you free" slogan at the enterance.
By the time we got there, Birkenaw was closed, so we did not see the sorting platform or the major creamatorium.

Freezing in Praha (Prague)

Rosie and I met up with Wade yesterday at this tea house, with the worlds most crappy overpriced tea ever, but fantastic ambiance. It was all underground with one room that was two stories high and had an old domed stone ceiling. Comfy couches and dim lanterns with shisha smoke swirling made the experience complete.
On another note, we have become experts at getting lost. It is the best way to see a city and find your way around.
We have found shops where a 4 foot crystal chandelier is cheaper than a small garnet ring, and have spent hours in negative 10 Celsius walking around.
There is an astronomical clock that tolls every hour with Death ringing his bell. (reminding us all that we dont have infinite time here) And I think there is more fur used in coats and hats and muffs here in Praha than all of the fur from all of the animals in America put together.
We have seen many St.s' tombs and many kings. Also, we have found many many friendly fellow vagabonds eager to acquaint themselves with us. Beautiful stained glass windows, wonderful beer and amazing buildings pumping American music. Definitely some place to return to.
Now we are on our way to Aushwitz-Birkanow and will practice observing our emotions without letting them consume us.

The first foux pas

After arriving very tired in Prague, I attempted to buy the right tickets to get myself, cheaply, from the airport to the hostel. I managed to buy the right ones, but failed in realizing that the tickets had to be stamped before they were considered valid...
Needless to say, I looked like a foreigner with my bright orange backpack, sleeping bag and purse. So, I was the one that the inspectors pulled over to the side to ask for my tickets - which I proudly produced.
I will never forget to validate my tickets again. But what interested me, was that the man telling me the fee was angry with me, and defending himself from the beginning of the conversation. It was as if he expected me to argue and call over his boss. It makes me wonder what sort of behavior Americans usually exhibit.

Photos

This is the web address for the photos that I will be uploading throughout the trip. 

photobucket.com/VivianRose