Lessons from Europe

So… we did it. We survived two months of backpacking across Europe. We visited eight countries, fifteen major cities, six country capitols, and countless small towns. We slept in $10 hostels, $200 hotel rooms, houses, RVs, and trains. We traveled by train, car, bus, ferry, plane, subway, metro, bicycle, and foot. Our backpacks grew steadily heavier the longer we traveled while our bank accounts grew steadily emptier. We missed train connections, got lost in Munich, ran out of money in Scotland, took on the entire French train system, smashed my laptop and had to rebook Faeth’s flight back to the states when we showed up too late at the airport in Barcelona for her to get through security. In other words, our trip across Europe was crazy, stressful, frustrating, unpredictable and overwhelming—but at the same time, it was wild, fun, exciting, educational and one of the best trips I’ve ever taken. So… here are some final thoughts about our two-month European adventure…

We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into...

First off, you need to balance flexibility with preparedness. Showing up in Munich without hostel reservations was taking spur-of-the-moment traveling too far to one extreme (hence the $200 a night hotel room), while trying to plan every intricate detail of the trip caused way too much stress and frustration on the opposite end of the spectrum. My advice is to figure out a rough itinerary of where you want to go when, and book hostel/hotel rooms for as many places as possible within a two-week window. We figured out that we should start booking hostel rooms for one country when we were a country behind: start looking up places for England when we were in Germany, etc. It worked pretty well, and that way you weren’t hit with cancellation fees if you’d planned too far down the road and things had to change.

 

Just a typical German party, right?

 

Always preorder anything you possibly can! If you buy tickets the day you need them, they’re sometimes double the price of advance tickets. When we tried to get from Dover to Newcastle, buying tickets the day of cost us 140 euro each, yet just the night before they’d been listed as 70 euro each. The same goes for entrance tickets into sites like La Sagrada Familia and Monet’s house in Normandy. You’ll do much better if you buy tickets at least a day ahead. Usually you can go online, buy the tickets and print them off. Sometimes, though, you have to go to actual train stations. The hike over is worth it though to ensure a spot and a better price.

This place did not have pre-ordered tickets available... or any tickets at all

There’s more to countries than their capital cities. When we started planning our trip, I was excited to see places like London and Madrid. I’d heard a lot about them. Faeth wanted to see “the country” and little towns, and I thought she was crazy. Small towns are not only difficult to get to, they’re boring—who wants to see a bunch of farms? Yet when we actually arrived in Europe, I discovered she had the right idea. Some of our favorite spots were tiny towns like Crianlarich and Dover. Cities can be fun, but they can also be packed full of annoying city goers, annoying tourists and lots of other annoying details: pricey food, pricey hostels, pricey everything. I’m not saying you should skip all cities; we had a lot of fun in London and Munich and places like those. But if you want a real, full glimpse of the country’s culture, I recommend you figure out a way to visit the smaller towns. They seem more authentic because they’re not tourist traps. They’re more relaxed so you can catch your breath between dodging across national borders. They’re often cheaper (unless you’re in a resort town), and it’s fun to explore them and discover places and sights you’d never heard of before.

Queens for a day!

 

You can’t see everything. You just can’t. Even if you give yourself a week in Paris, you won’t see everything you could. There will still be famous sights you haven’t visited. And that’s okay! Instead of trying to cram a billion things into a visit, focus on the things you really care about—and forget about the “famous” stuff everyone gushes over. When Faeth and I visited Paris, we only had one day to explore the city. I really wanted to see the Paris Opera House, and she wanted to see a library. We did, and we had a blast! You know what we didn’t see? The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame, the Arch de Triumph and a ton of other “must see” locations. And that’s okay! You can always come back to a country for another visit. Focusing on what you want to see instead of checking off famous sights is a lot more fun.

Chilling out can be as fun as city-hopping

 

Take a breather. A long-term trip overseas is extremely taxing, both physically and mentally. Our backpacks weighed a good 20 lbs at least—mine was probably more like 30 lbs with all the stuff I’d crammed in! Carrying that from hostel to hostel was hard work. On top of that, Faeth and I walked almost everywhere because we were too cheap for public transportation. We were pretty exhausted every night when we hit the hay. I know friends who try to cram 10 major cities into four weeks, and I think they’re crazy. Your trip isn’t going to be fun if you’re running around like a chicken with its head cut off. You need down time. Take a day to just relax at the city gardens or chill at the beach. Find a quiet corner to tuck yourself away in for a night.

The lady behind us wishes *she* had splurged on some ice cream...

There’s a limit to prudent thriftiness. This is especially important for college kids overseas. Faeth and I are both pretty cheap, and we figured we’d be fine living in $10 hostels and eating bread and cheese every day. For the most part, that worked. But sometimes, you really should pay a little more. You won’t get that much sleep if you stay in hostels for two straight months. You need to buy yourself a hotel room every few weeks, just for one night’s rest. The same goes for food; there’s only so long you should live off bread and water. And while I highly recommend walking everywhere while traveling, sometimes you should break down and buy a taxi when you’re trying to lug your backpack to an airport and are in a time crunch. It’s less stressful (and less sweaty!), and you’ll only be out 20 euro. In the long run, it’s not a big deal.

Faeth gets her swag on... don't be afraid of looking silly if you're having fun!

So, there you have it: six travel tips so you don’t make the same mistakes we did. Now you can make new mistakes totally original to your trip! Don’t worry… mistakes happen. They’re inevitable. If you tackle them with flexibility and a good attitude, you’ll have a funny story to share with friends later. (“Hey, Faeth, remember that time we couldn’t find a hostel in Munich and ended up in Austria at 12 a.m.? That was such a crazy night!”) Traveling is about exploring new cultures, meeting new people, and discovering more about yourself. When people hear about my trip to Europe, they say, “Wow! That must have been the trip of a lifetime!” In a way, it was. I got to spend two months with my best friend exploring a continent. I learned a ton about myself and about the world around me. It was an incredible blessing. But it’s only one trip, a “starter” journey that opened my eyes to the countless opportunities to explore the world. This wasn’t the trip of a lifetime—it was the first in a lifetime of trips.

Stay tuned for our next travel adventure!

Barcelona—Traveling is about the people!

After nearly two months on the road, the end was in sight: we were headed to Barcelona, the last stop on our list and the place where Faeth would board her flight home. We left el Monasterio de Piedra early Saturday morning, specially ordering a taxi from the neighboring town since ours was too small to have one. Before we left, though, the shuttle driver who had taken us to the monastery stopped us and gave us a note, asking if we could deliver it to his “friend in Barcelona.” There wasn’t much information to go on: his name was Willy, he had a restaurant on the beach, and they hadn’t met up in years. But the shuttle driver was so nice, we promised to do our best and find his friend.

Getting to Barcelona was a head ache and a half. First, when we arrived at Catalyud, the main transportation hub closest to the tiny town, the bus to Barcelona was full and the next one wouldn’t arrive in the city until nearly midnight. The lady at the counter had sold us tickets for the late bus without bothering to say that the early bus was full, which we thankfully figured out before boarding. So we hurriedly flagged a cab (actually, I begged one of the bus workers to do it—he couldn’t say no to a crying American girl) and managed to make it to the train station, where we were able to buy two tickets with our Eurail pass (finally!).

The train ride took about six hours, and the scenery was gorgeous. When we finally arrived in the city, it wasn’t as big or intimidating as lots of the cities we’d seen in the last eight weeks, but it was definitely one of the warmest! It didn’t help than our cramped hostel room had no air conditioning. But we didn’t stay in the room much—that’d be a waste of time in a gorgeous city like Barcelona!

The first day, we visited Gaudi’s famous Sagrada Familia. Gaudi started it back in 1882, but it’s still not done—the latest projections are for 2040. It might have gotten finished sooner had Gaudi not been run over in the middle of construction. The Spanish Civil War further impeded the process, with arsonists trying to burn the building down. But even half-done, it’s still breathtaking. You had to have the patience to stand in a line that wound around the block (for once, we were okay paying for tickets since they’re funding the continuing construction) and to weave past hundreds of tourists snapping pictures, but it was totally worth it. When I walked inside, I was overcome by the fantastical beauty that surrounded me. It didn’t feel like a church so much—it was more like an art project, like Gaudi had asked, “How can I use the skills I have to glorify my Creator?” The whole building felt like a whimsical, heart-felt gift from a little kid to his dad—but on a grand scale.

130 years down and 30 more to go!

 

I think my favorite parts were all the stained glass windows. Gaudi had used all sorts of different colors, and they spilled into the church like rainbows. Faeth and I paid the extra few euros to take the lift to the top of one of the towers so we could see the panoramic view of Barcelona. The corridors were extremely tight, so tight your shoulders would almost brush the stones as you walked. I didn’t much mind that, except whenever a tourist stopped ahead of us take pictures, we all had to stop. And some people took forever to take pictures!

"Somewhere, over the rainbow..."

 

While we were in Barcelona, we also saw the Barcelona Cathedral, which wasn’t quite as impressive (honestly, it was pretty stuffy!), and tried to see the Museum of Catalan Music (though we decided not to when we learned we had to pay for a private tour). But the most interesting part was definitely our trip to the beach. The beach itself wasn’t that great. We were looking forward to wading into the famous Mediterranean Sea, but unfortunately, so were about 10,000 other people. Well, they weren’t so interested in wading as tanning. We couldn’t even get to the shore, since there were so many human bodies piled up in front of it (and many of the women thought bikini tops weren’t all that important). So, after hiking the beach for some time, we decided to skip the afternoon swim.

But we still tried to hunt down Willy’s beachside restaurant. It took a while, but finally a pharmacist was able to point us in the right direction. When we found the restaurant, we discovered it was one of the ritziest in the area. We had been given strict instructions to give the shuttle driver’s note to only Willy himself, so we stubbornly held onto it until he appeared. He was a loud, blustery, jolly old Spaniard who reminded me a little of the mob bosses from 1930s black and white movies—and he was utterly delighted to receive our note. It turns out, he and the shuttle driver hadn’t seen each other in four years and didn’t have each other’s phone numbers, but the shuttle driver had written his number on the note. Willy was so excited, he invited me and Faeth back to his restaurant that evening for a party.

So we came back that evening, duly dressed up for a night on the town. And he gave it to us! He remembered us right away when we showed up, declaring, “My memory is good!” (He even sounded like a mobster!) He gave us one of the best tables, tucked into the corner of the restaurant where we could watch the people walk by on the street. We tried paella, one of Spain’s best-known dishes, and it was delicious. If you’re going to try paella, try it at a beach town, where the fish, crabs, oysters and mussels are fresh. There was enough food for four people, but Faeth and I almost ate it all because it was so good. Willy kept refilling our glasses with sangria as well, a tangy-sweet Spanish liquor. The best surprise came at the end, when Willy told us the 60 euro meal was on the house!

A night on the town

It was a great way to end the night and a great way to end our 2-month trip across Europe. Of all the places we’ve seen and things we’ve done overseas, our night with Willy stands out as one of my favorite memories. Really, all the fancy buildings and breathtaking scenes don’t matter without the people. People like Willy, Neil and Father Tommo are what made the trip so memorable. Don’t forget that next time you’re in a new place—reach out and make connections. You never know who you’ll meet!

El Monasterio de Piedra--Reveling in the beauty of nature

After figuring out a way to leave Medinaceli behind, we moved on to the second-to-last stop on our list: el Monasterio de Piedra. Technically, we didn’t stay at the monastery itself; we stayed at a tiny town two miles away, Nuévalos. The town was probably just as small as Medinaceli. It didn’t even have a taxi to use. But the hotel room was comfortable and the staff was friendly and helpful, even if no one spoke English (just another chance to practice my Spanish!).

The main site to see at Nuévalos was el Monasterio de Piedra, a monastery and nature park, technically about five kilometers out of town up a hill. Luckily, the hotel offered shuttle rides to and from the monasterio, so we hopped in and headed up.

El Monasterio is a favorite stop for nature lovers from all over Spain

 

El Monasterio de Piedra is a monastery founded in 1194 by Alfonso II of Aragon, along with thirteen Cistercian monks. The monastery was made out of an old Moorish castle after the Moors were pushed out of this part of Spain. The monastery wasn’t finished until 1218. It’s a grand structure, still mostly preserved, though the church has fallen into ruin. It was closed down in 1835 and sold off to a private bidder the next year. This was partly because of the Carlist civil war, as Spain attempted to raise money to pay off its debts. Religion was viewed with hostility and so the monks lost the building they’d lived in for more than 600 years. Now, the monastery is a private hotel.

The monastery is now a private hotel and nature park

When we visited the monastery, we were able to see the cloisters, the assembly room, the church and crypt, the chapel, the wine cellar, the kitchen (the first kitchen in Europe where chocolate was cooked) and the dining room. It was really interesting to walk through the rooms, which were so simple and austere, and beautiful in their austerity, and then see the colorful, baroque icons carved into walls and chapels. The ornate carvings seemed gaudy and out of place in such a peaceful, unassuming little monastery.

El Monasterio de Piedra is known for its countless waterfalls

When we were done with the monastery, we moved on to the park. The park was small, probably only fifty acres, yet it was full of such beauty that it took us quite a while to walk through it all; we kept stopping to admire the sights. Almost every twenty feet, we came across a waterfall, whether a trickling stream or a giant cascade.

Nature walks are better with a sister!

 

We were even able to climb behind one of the falls into a glowing cavern where water dripped from the ceiling like rain and the cave walls were cool to the touch. We walked through forests and over waterfalls; we saw ponds full of trout and birds flitting near our ears. We explored grottos and valleys; we wound our way along rivers and over creaking bridges. It felt like we’d stumbled into a fairy kingdom—the beauty around us was that hard to believe.

It was like our own secret world!

I could have stayed at the park a lot longer than we did, but we wanted to catch the 5 p.m. shuttle back to the hotel. Unfortunately, our shuttle driver forgot about us, so we ended up walking the three miles back to town. It wasn’t so bad, though, since we were in the shadows of the mountains on the way down. Walking along the highway wasn’t very reassuring, but we did get to take in some gorgeous views!

Walking isn't so boring when you walk past things like this

The next day, we decided to walk down to the lake that we could see from our hotel. Getting there was a lot more difficult than we’d realized, just because it was so hot. But when we finally climbed down to the shore, we got to explore the ruins of a church that had been there as long as anyone could remember. You could touch these ruins, climb on them, crawl through windows and doorways—it’s a lot more fun than looking at a fancy monument behind a velvet rope! The lesser-known ruins are almost always the most interesting!

The view from our balcony

We didn’t end up taking a dip in the lake, since the water seemed pretty nasty (and the snakes slithering around under the waves weren’t very comforting either!). Instead, we hiked back up to the hotel and tried the special dish for dinner: rabbit. It was really good!

Perhaps three days was too long to stay at that tiny town, since once you’ve seen the monastery, there isn’t much else to do. But it was nice to just sit back and relax, too. If you’re going to travel a continent for two months, you need some downtime once in a while. It’s not fun if you push yourself all the time. And relaxing in the stark, dusty beauty of Nuévalos is the perfect place to do it. El monasterio was one of my favorite parts of our time in Spain. I’m definitely going back someday… it’s just a matter of when.

Behind the waterfall

 

Medinaceli--Getting a glimpse of the real Spain

From Madrid, Faeth and I needed to decide where to go next. While I wanted to visit southern Spain, with its cities such as Seville and Granada, we decided that instead of rushing around trying to cram everything into one trip, we’d take the leisurely route up to Barcelona, where we needed to finish so Faeth could catch her flight home. Thus, we hopped on an Alsa bus (the Spanish equivalent of a Greyhound) and headed north towards Zaragoza. But before reaching that major city, we bailed out at a tiny truck-stop town named Medinaceli.

 

Blink and you'll miss it

Faeth had found Medinaceli on the internet. Going off its population of only 800 and its rural setting, we figured it would be a refreshing break from the big cities we’d been bouncing around lately. Sure enough, the town was very laid-back. We arrived during “vacation,” a time in summer where Europeans simply take off work, pack up and drive off for a few weeks. So there was almost no one even in the town, which was fine with us. We found a cozy hotel attached to a truck stop (the private room was much appreciated!) and settled down for a day or two of relaxation.

Medinaceli’s claim to fame is a giant Roman arch in the northern part of town. (The town is divided into two parts, half at the foot of a hill and half on top of the hill.) The arch is the only three-gated Roman arch in Spain, apparently, built in the 1^st-3^rd centuries AD. To reach it, you had to hike about a mile and a half uphill (much easier said than done) to the “old part” of town. Faeth and I did that the afternoon we arrived. Besides the arch, we saw an old Arabic gateway and the ruins of Roman walls. We might not have made it to Hadrian’s Wall, but we finally got to see some Roman architecture anyway!

It's a pretty big arch!

We also visited the castle of Medinaceli, where the Dukes of Medinaceli lived until moving into the Ducal Palace (Palacio Ducal). The castle was in ruins now, but if you were willing to climb over piles of stones and push through weeds, you could go up to the crumbling building and peer over its walls. Here's an odd side-note: part of the castle's interior had been converted into a funeral home. I know, weird...

Can't you just imagine El Cid surveying the Spanish countryside from that tower?

 

The Ducal Palace, meanwhile, has since been converted into an art museum. For only 2 euro each, we were able to wander modern art exhibits, some of which were very thought-provoking. There was a special collection of photographs when we visited, revolving around the ideas of distance and time.

Faeth converts this exhibit into "living art"

 

Perhaps the best part of the museum, though, was the Roman mosaic that had been rescued and restored. It was a giant picture of animals, composed of thousands of tiny mosaic pieces. The restoration had taken years and was still not completed, but the mosaic was still impressive nevertheless.

Can you imagine how long it must have taken to create that?

We stayed in Medinaceli for two days. The second day, we tried to walk “El Camino del Cid” (The walkway of el Cid), named after Spain’s famous champion. El Cid was a Castilian nobleman in the 1000s who helped drive the Moors out of Spain. He’s one of Spain’s greatest heroes. Unfortunately, his “camino” was more of a scenic highway now, so we couldn’t safely explore it. We did get to see some of it the day we left, though, since our taxi took the route for some time. We had hoped to take the Alsa bus onwards to the next stop, but the bus only dropped people off at Medinaceli; you couldn’t board it. The same thing happened with the train. We were a little worried at first, wondering if we’d gotten ourselves stuck in the middle of nowhere, but the hotel staff helped us get a taxi and get on our way. While it was more expensive, the scenery almost made it worth it: harsh cliff faces, vivid red dirt, twisting forests. It felt like we were in the Wild West all of a sudden. Spain is full of stark, contrasting scenery. That’s one of the things I love most about this country: one hour you’re at the beach, the next you’re in a desert (á la Medinaceli).

The town sure had some pretty scenery

I’m glad Faeth managed to stumble across this little truck-stop town. It felt like a glimpse into a more authentic side of Spain, simpler and more laid-back than the glossy modern cities. We tried home-cooked Spanish food at a restaurant near the diner. We bought delicious donuts from the tiny town bakery. We got to wander an ancient town that marked the border between Christians and Muslims, Spanish and Moors a thousand years ago, long before Isabel and Ferdinand pushed the invaders out of their country. It was really interesting to see ruins of Christian buildings, Muslim buildings and Jewish buildings. These cultures all clashed, yet the town came out richer for having a history that included all three. And we came out richer for leaving cities packed with tourists and finding our way to this tiny, undiscovered gem. There is more to a country than its big-name cities. Sometimes, you’ve got to look beyond the famous sites if you really want to understand a country and its people. It may take some effort, but you’ll be glad you did!

 

Spain--where the ancient and the modern meet

Of all the countries on our itinerary for this summer’s trip, Spain was top of my list. I had dreamed of going there since I was twelve. We had 10 days to explore, which was far too short for me but at least, I hoped, would give me a glimpse of this country rich in history, culture and significance.

We went to Madrid, Spain’s sprawling capital, first. There, a woman named Adrianna picked us up from the train station. Adrianna is a friend of a friend, who graciously invited us to stay with her a night after she learned we were traveling in the area. She hadn’t even heard of us a week before, yet she opened her home to us and helped us find our way around the city, and we were unspeakably grateful.

In Madrid, we visited El Palacio Real, which used to be the Spanish royal family’s home before the civil war. By this time, we’d seen plenty of castles and palaces in other countries, but this one stood out to me because of its rigid magnificence and regality. The other palaces, while lovely, seemed more like fancy mansions; this palace seemed like the living quarters of a king. It helps paint a picture of the Spanish monarchy and how the royal family interacted with the rest of Spain’s government and society.

Though still a royal home, the Spanish royal family rarely visits the castle

We also saw la Bibliotheca Nacional de España (the National Library of Spain), which did not, in fact, house books any more, since it had been converted into a museum (Faeth was very disappointed). Along the way, we also ran into Mickey Mouse and an evil Chucky doll, street performers in costume who find tourists to snap pictures together. You never know what you’ll discover in Europe!

Now Faeth has seen libraries in five European countries!

Even though it was fun exploring Madrid, I felt like something was missing. I’d always had a romantic picture of that country in my head, full of medieval buildings, dusty castles and colorful lords and ladies. I suppose I should have expected that 21^st-century Spain would be a little more modern, but it was still a disappointment to arrive in Madrid and see a skyline of skyscrapers instead of castle turrets. But I got my taste of the Spain I was dreaming about when Faeth and I visited Toledo.

This is the old castle at Toledo

 

Toledo is about an hour away from Madrid by bus, and we took a daytrip there our third day in Spain. (The second day in Spain, I was confined to bed with a sore throat all day and only dragged myself out to find a pharmacy.) Toledo was everything I’d imagined: narrow cobblestone streets, austere castles, ancient cathedrals and more. It was a headache to navigate, since it had been built hundreds of years ago before tourism was a big thing. But if you just wanted to relax and soak in the Spanish atmosphere, Toledo was the perfect spot. Faeth and I had a great time wandering the streets and looking at the different buildings. We also visited the old castle, which had been converted into a very interesting war museum. It was fun to imagine kings and queens living in that fortress, surrounded by their royal guard and attended by nobles and ladies-in-waiting.

Can you imagine living here with your royal attendants?

It goes to show you that it’s better to travel to places without preconceived ideas about what you’ll find. I was disappointed that Madrid wasn’t as ancient and romantic as I’d expected, but I hadn’t even thought of Toledo and it turned out to be really cool. Instead of building something up in your head, come with an open mind. That way, you won’t be disappointed, and the reality will be far more fun and attainable than something you dreamed up.

Escape from Paris

After nearly seven weeks of backpacking across Europe, the end was in sight. We were heading to the last country on our list: Spain. The plan was simple: take a train from Paris into Madrid. What could go wrong? Well… everything.

We felt like this guy trying to get out of New York...

For one thing, France doesn’t let you buy tickets online with your Eurail pass, so we had to find a station and buy the tickets in person. That wasn’t so bad; we found a station while we girls were visiting Normandy. We explained to the woman at the counter that we wanted to arrive Thursday, July 25. To our great delight, she even found us a night train so we wouldn’t have to switch trains in southern France (I didn’t really want to bail out at midnight and try to find my way around in French). It looked like a perfect solution. The only problem: she sold us tickets for the Tuesday, July 23 night train instead

We discovered the mistake that evening and went to fix it as early as we could the next morning. It was a different lady at the counter this time. We told her what had happened and the date that we really wanted. But then she told us that there was no way we could switch to that date, since the section for Eurail holders was full. There was plenty of room if you wanted to buy a ticket at the full 180-euro price, of course. But French trains only reserve probably ten spots for Eurail pass holders, since they’re too cheap to let go of 180-euro tickets in exchange for 42-euro reservations that such pass holders buy instead. We did not really want to spend the equivalent of $250 each for a ride to Madrid, so she switched us to the next possible date: Sunday, July 28. But Faeth was leaving Barcelona on August 6, so that meant we only had about a week to explore Spain instead of our planned 10 days.

But we weren’t going to give up yet! We started looking for other ways to travel and managed to find a 17-hr nonstop bus from Paris to Madrid. It left at 2 p.m. one day and arrived 7 a.m. the next. While it didn’t sound as comfortable as a train, and we weren’t entirely sure how much sleep we’d actually get overnight, it was only $80 per ticket, a heck of a lot cheaper than 180 euro. We decided to keep that as our backup plan should we not be able to switch train tickets.

Our last full day in France, we visited Paris for the day. Before we rode the regional train in, Geoff and Jennifer tried to help us switch tickets one last time. But the result was the same: there were no open seats, at least no open seats for Eurail pass holders.

Could we put what we’d paid for these tickets (103 euro) towards full-fare night train tickets? we asked, deciding it might be best to break down and just buy full tickets. A 10-hr night train sounded a lot better than a 17-hr bus ride. But no, the train company wouldn’t let you do that. Could we get a refund? we questioned next. Oh, yes---a whopping 10 euro back of the original 103 euro we’d paid. That was just insulting. We started to resign ourselves to that 17-hr bus ride; there was no way we were going to lose out on three days in Spain because France was being stupid.

It was like trying to reason with Squidward

But then Geoff had an epiphany: all the trouble about buying new tickets revolved around our Eurail passes. Eurail passes are international passes you can buy for train travel in Europe. We had a 10-day, 2-month pass, meaning than within two months, we could travel by train 10 different days. In Germany, it was great; we didn’t need any reservations and could hop on and off all day with our passes. In France, you needed to reserve, and that’s where things got dicey, since French trains were too cheap to allow many Eurail seats. Most of the train station workers we talked with hadn’t even heard of Eurail passes and had no idea how to process them. (I must say, French train employees don’t seem to take much pride or care in their work.) Geoff’s idea was simple: just ask to exchange our tickets without bringing up our Eurail passes. We tried that in Paris and, happy day, it worked! They actually let us exchange like normal people, not the sub-class peons they consider Eurail pass holders. We were able to snag spots in the night train Thursday night, arriving in Madrid Friday around 10 a.m.

How we felt when we stepped off the train in Spain

The moral of this story is that France is a pretentious, cheap nation that doesn’t care much for poor travelers, and heaven help you if you try to travel through France via Eurail. If you must travel by train, reserve your spot weeks or months ahead—though that’s very difficult, since usually you need to buy the ticket reservation in person. I’d suggest flying instead. It’s a whole lot less of a head ache.

Searching for the Phantom of the Opera

By the time Faeth and I had visited half the WWI and WII battle sites in France we wanted, we only had one day left for that famous city of love, gay París. One day is not nearly enough time to visit this sprawling, 2,000-year-old city, with a history that spans Roman invasions, absolute monarchies and bloody revolutions. There’s something for everyone: art lovers have the Louvre, nature lovers have the Tuileries Garden, and plain old lovers have that magical Eiffel Tower. But I had my sights set on one very specific place: the Palais Garnier.

It was a tad less majestic with the construction crane in the way

The Palais Garnier, also known as Opéra Garnier, is a gigantic Beaux-Arts style opera house designed by Charles Garnier and finished in 1875. (There was a brief delay because of the Siege of Paris during the Franco-Prussian War, when the building was used as a hospital and food storage area.) It was the grand opera house of Paris until 1989, when the new Opéra Bastille opened up. Now, the Palais Garnier mainly produces ballets.

Part of the sweeping grand staircase

But the old opera house is much more than what the entertainment it offers. The building itself is absolutely gorgeous, a giddy mix of Baroque opulence and sleek turn-of-the-century innovation. From the outside, the opera house looks like one more government building inspired by the Greeks, but once you step inside, you are swept into such overwhelming magnificence and luxury that you don’t know what to look at first: marble columns, giant sculptures of famous composers, intricately-carved balconies… and that’s before you even get to the famous grand staircase, a double-winged marble walkway that allows hundreds of guests to mingle before the show. When you finally arrive at the actual theater, you’re faced with floor-to-ceiling gold leaf and rich red velvet seats, all situated underneath a glittering 7-ton bronze and crystal chandelier so beautiful it takes your breath away. As you wander the halls of this sprawling Edwardian masterpiece, it’s easy to imagine ladies in evening gowns and opera gloves being escorted to their seats by dashing men in tuxedos and top hats.

The theater seats nearly 2,000 people

 

Such a dazzling building is definitely worth a visit by any history or art lover, but I had a special reason for winding my ways through the streets of Paris to find the Palais Garnier: I am a huge fan of The Phantom of the Opera. I read Gaston Leroux’s 1910 novel when I was in junior high school and it’s been one of my favorite books ever since. Then when I was a teenager, I discovered Andrew Lloyd Webber’s 1986 stage adaptation and I was really hooked. I’ve seen probably ten or more movies based on the tragic love story between a masked musical genius and the angelic soprano he adores, from the silent 1925 version starring Lon Chaney to the 2004 musical with Emmy Rossum and Gerald Butler (as well as a cartoon adaptation and the very weird Brian De Palma version, The Phantom of Paradise). I’ve gobbled up any supplementary reading I can get my hands on, such as Susan Kay’s Phantom and Webber’s gaudy The Phantom of Manhattan sequel. I’ve bought soundtracks and music books and any Phantom merchandise I can find hidden away at garage sales. I’ve seen the show three times in two places. I even sewed my own ball gown based on a pattern from Christine’s Masquerade dress. I guess you could call me a real Phanatic—so it’s no surprise I would make a pilgrimage to the place where it all began.

"She's singing to bring down the chandelier!"

 

Walking around the Palais Garnier was a dream come true. I got to see the staircase that inspired the extravagant Masquerade scene in Webber’s musical. I stood under the infamous chandelier that helped inspire the novel itself. And I got to peek into Box 5, the box where, according to Leroux’s novel, the Phantom always watched performances. A plaque had been attached to the door, stating: Loge du Fantôme de l'Opéra (Lodge of the Phantom of the Opera). Unfortunately, I couldn’t travel down under the building to view the underground lake mentioned in Leroux’s novel (I think the receptionist thought I was crazy when I asked!), nor could I climb to the roof to see the giant golden sculpture where the Phantom hid while Christine and Raoul sang love songs to each other. But what I saw was enough to keep me satisfied for some time… at least until I come back to watch a real performance!

Maybe I'll spot him next time I visit...

Fighting on the beaches of Normandy

While many Americans don’t know a lot about World War II besides the Holocaust, Hitler and Hiroshima, almost every U.S. citizen can name the famous D-Day invasion on Normandy’s beaches. Faeth and I are both very interested in U.S. military history, so we were dying to visit Normandy when we arrived in France. Talking Jennifer into a girls’ weekend wasn’t very hard to do, and, after four hours of driving, we arrived in Normandy.

In case the background is a bit hazy, here are the basic details: Operation Overlord was the codename for the Allies’ invasion of northwestern Europe, with the hopes of driving Germans back to Germany and eventually winning the war. Operation Neptune was the assault phase of this plan, which started on D-Day. On June 6, 1944, the Allies launched the largest amphibious assault in the history of the world, with 160,000 troops from 11 countries (along with members of the French resistance) invading France by land, sea and air elements. Allied troops crossed the English Channel from Dover to invade the beaches of Normandy, France and win back precious beach territory that could be used for ports. By the end of the day, more than 12,000 Allied troops had been killed but the battle had been won. The invasion at D-Day went down in history as one of the greatest triumphs of WW2 and in American history, with men and women displaying incredible courage, ingenuity, determination and valor.

We visited the cemetery first. After seeing small, quiet cemeteries like the one in Belleau Wood and the one Geoff manages, it was strange to see a place so overrun with visitors. I guess in a way, that’s a good thing; people should come to honor the dead and remember their sacrifices. On the other hand, the cemetery felt more like a carnival than a memorial, with teenagers running around in skimpy outfits and groups laughing and joking amongst themselves. Bored sightseers seemed like they were just checking one more famous site of their international “to-do” list instead of reflecting on Normandy’s great cost. It was too crowded and noisy for me to easily stop and meditate on what I was seeing, those 9,000 white stone grave markers to commemorate all the heroes who had died for our freedom nearly 70 years ago.

 

More than 9,000 Americans are buried here

Then we visited Omaha Beach, one of the five main landing points of the invasion. Here, nearly 45,000 U.S. soldiers stormed through crashing waves, sandbars, machine gun fire and barbed-wire booty traps to reach the enemy. Nearly 3,000 of these soldiers were killed in action. When we arrived at the beach, it wasn’t quite what I expected. There were two monuments built to commemorate the Allied effort, but otherwise it just looked like a beach. People were running around in bathing suits, surfing and swimming. I suppose you can’t close off a whole beach in remembrance, but I’d feel strange frolicking around a site where 3,000 soldiers had died in bloody battle half a century ago. Looking out over the gray waves, we could see the hazy outline of England on the horizon. It must have been pretty intense to board a ship with your comrades, sail 20 miles in the dark early morning, and tumble out into the chilly ocean at 6:30 a.m. to run into hostile, unknown territory while all around you other soldiers were being mowed down. I don’t know what drives men to advance at that point, when death is all around you. I don’t think anyone can know unless you’ve been through it.

The other sites were Utah Beach, Gold Beach, Sword Beach and Juno Beach

The final place we visited was Pointe du Hoc, which I had never even heard of before. It turned out to be a bunch of cliffs between Omaha Beach and Utah Beach (another invasion point). During the D-Day invasion, U.S. soldiers from the Ranger Assault Group scaled the 100-ft cliffs to take out Germans who were shooting at the invading Allied forces. Apparently, almost nothing went to plan during that assault, with reinforcements landing in the wrong place, nasty weather and the loss of the element of surprise. Yet despite all this, the Allies still emerged victorious. What a story! We wove our way through giant craters left by bombs, saw old machine gun nests and explored underground concrete bunkers. It was really neat!

 

Faeth climbed down into a bomb crater

Lots of people only think of Paris when they think of France, but there is so much more to the country than the Eiffel Tower or Notre Dame. Places like the Pointe du Hoc and Omaha Beach are incredible pieces of history that testify to the strength of the American spirit. I would much rather stand where all those heroes stood than visit a roped-off painting in the Louvre any day. These places are where heroes were born and heroes died, where common men were uncommonly brave. These places are some of America’s greatest and proudest memories.

U.S. soldiers climbed this to protect their comrades-in-arms

“The free men of the world are marching together to victory. I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty, and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full victory. Good luck, and let us all beseech the blessings of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking.” –General Dwight D. Eisenhower, giving the D-Day order

Devil dogs in Belleau Wood

When I came to France, I had three places I wanted to visit: Paris, Normandy and Versailles. Faeth had a list of battle sites I hadn’t even heard of. One of them was Belleau Wood. The second day we were with Geoff and Jennifer, they took us to this site. Though I’d never heard of it before this summer, I’m really glad we managed to visit. In fact, it was one of the coolest places in France we went to see.

Belleau Wood is sort of a pilgrimage spot for U.S. Marines. Why? Because during the intense WWI battle that occurred there, Marines earned their famous “Devil Dog” nickname. After German forces pushed through French lines to march towards Paris, Marines rushed to stop the enemy’s advance. Four Marine Corps regiments squared off against five divisions of German troops. The battle lasted from June 1-June 26, 1918, resulting in nearly 2,000 Marine casualties and another 8,000 Marines wounded. After fighting in wheat fields, the Marines chased the Germans into Belleau Wood, attacking the wood six times before finally routing the enemy and securing U.S. victory. Fighters were reduced to bayonet and hand-to-hand combat, struggling through machine gun fire and mustard gas. One Marine Corps officer reportedly encouraged his troops by shouting, “Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?” After almost four weeks of fighting, the Marines finally emerged victorious in one of the bloodiest and most intense battles of WWI.

This monument also commemorates the battle

To commemorate their allies’ valor and determination, the French renamed Belleau Wood “Bois de la Brigade de Marine” (Wood of the Marine Brigade). Legend has it that German forces also walked away with a healthy respect for Marine Corps spirit, calling them “devil dogs,” a nickname that Marines have worn with pride ever since.

Faeth and I were able to visit these very woods, in addition to the U.S. cemetery established nearby. But first, we visited the famous “Devil Dog” fountain. This fountain, which unsurprisingly has a bulldog head as the fount, supposedly adds 10 years of life to any Marine who drinks from it. Since I plan on going into the Air Force, I guess it won’t work for me, but Faeth wants to be a Marine, so hopefully she gained a 10 year bonus. She also brought some back for our dad, who served in the Marine Corps 20 years ago. (The way he hurts himself, he could use all the help he can get!)

We'll have to wait and see if it works...

Then we visited the Aisne-Marne American Cemetery and Memorial. About 2,300 men and women are buried there, and a “Wall of the Missing” commemorates another 1,060 whose bodies were never recovered. Among these Americans is Weedon Osborne, one of only three dental officers who received the Medal of Honor. He was a Navy officer who was killed in the Battle of Belleau Wood as he dragged wounded fighters to safety.

After we saw the cemetery, we walked into the woods where the battle had taken place nearly 100 years ago. We could see craters left by shells and the remains of trenches where U.S. forces ducked under enemy fire. Walking through these woods, I tried to imagine what it was like to be a U.S. Marine fighting for my country a hundred years ago: the woods filled with smoke and mustard gas, the smell of gunpowder and blood, the sound of machine gun fire and the screams of dying men… What was it like, not seeing 10 feet in front of you but advancing anyway? What was it like to see your comrades mowed down? What was it like to feel blind terror rip through your heart but stamp it down and move forward when your officer commanded? What was it like to kill someone with a bayonet or with your bare hands?

Faeth tried her hand at the "Marine Corps crawl" in one of the trenches

I can’t imagine the horrors these U.S. fighters endured during that bloody battle; all I can do is be thankful for their incredible courage and fortitude. Without the men of the USMC, we would not have won WWI or WWII or any war. Because of them, I know our country is safe. I think they’re loyal to the point of fanaticism, driven to the point of ruthlessness and brave to the point of recklessness. I’m unspeakably proud of my dad for serving as a Marine and, though I’m worried for her, I’m unspeakably proud of my little sister for joining too. The men and women of the United States Marine Corps are the greatest heroes our country has.

I leave you now with a quote from Clifton B. Cates, a Marine 1^st Lt. in Belleau Wood:

“I have only two men out of my company and 20 out of some other company. We need support, but it is almost suicide to try to get it here as we are swept by machine gun fire and a constant barrage is on us. I have no one on my left and only a few on my right. I will hold.”

Luxembourg: Remembering America's fallen heroes

After Germany, the plan was to meet some family friends in France. Their names are Geoff and Jennifer Fournier. My dad met Geoff while Geoff was in the Navy and my dad was in the Marines, and they stayed close afterwards. Geoff eventually moved to France to manage a U.S. cemetery and WWI memorial, and he and his wife generously offered to host us for a week when they heard we were circling through Europe.

Our plan was to catch the train from Germany to France, but it turned out that we needed reservations to do so, which we couldn’t get in time. Luckily, it just so happened that Geoff and Jennifer needed to go to Luxembourg to register their new car, and Faeth and I could easily hop on the train to that country instead. So quite unexpectedly, we ended up adding another country to our “visited” list.

Getting there was an adventure, since our train was an hour late to the first stop, making us miss our connection (so much for that famous German punctuality!). But we were able to take another later train and arrive only an hour late overall, so it wasn’t terrible. Geoff and Jennifer picked us up at the train station and offered to show us the Luxembourg American Cemetery and WWII War Memorial. Their friend Scott runs it, and he gave us a tour around the site.

The cemetery is impressive in its sheer size: 50 acres and 5,076 white grave markers to commemorate the American forces who lost their lives fighting in WWII. Among the dead buried here is General Patton (who did not die in battle but in an automobile accident). Many of these fighters died in the famous Battle of the Bulge, which took place in the Ardennes Forest only miles away from the cemetery. (In fact, the country of Luxemburg is so grateful for the Allies’ support that it offered the cemetery land to the U.S. for free and still pays for the water supply.)

The chapel includes a mosaic inside representing the protection of peace

While we were in the cemetery, we visited the Wall of the Missing, which listed 307 Americans who had died in combat in the area and never been recovered, and saw the chapel, which had a giant angel carved in the front and doors inscribed with the eight virtues of the U.S. soldier.

Rosettes signify a soldier whose body has been recovered

 

Both of these monuments were impressive, but what moved me most was looking out over all those pristine white grave markers. Some of them didn’t even have names carved onto them, only “a comrade-in-arms known only to God.” So many men and women lost their lives fighting a war 70 years ago so that the rest of us could be free and safe. When you see all those graves, it’s hard not to get caught up in cold statistics. But every soldier who died had a family, and friends, and plans, and dreams. Every soldier who went out onto the field under a haze of machine gun fire knew what he was risking—and risked it anyway. It sounds trite, but it’s true: these are American’s true heroes.

The cemetery commemorates more than 5,000 Americans who gave their lives for us

I think the best way to sum it up is to reference the quote carved on the side of the Luxembourg cemetery chapel:

“In proud remembrance of the achievement of her sons and in humble tribute to their sacrifices, this monument has been erected by the United States of America.”