Youngs Around the World

I was the only one of our group who had any desire to see Bratislava, the capital city of Slovakia, and a mere one-hour train ride from Vienna. Part of my motivation was to see a new country (I admit, I’m a closet box-checker), but the other part was my desire to see a city, and country, truly in transition – from Cold War communism to EU membership capitalism. Slovakia is one of the newest European Union member states and is eagerly shedding the remnants of its 45-year communist occupation. Growing up, I was too young to comprehend Reaganomics, the Cold War, or how the world changed when the Berlin Wall fell, but now that I’m older, I’m fascinated by this time in world history. I’m fascinated by Russia. As an ardent capitalist I’m surprised that communism lasted as long as it did. In my lifetime, the balance of power in the world has shifted and I’m eager to learn more.

I have traveled alone often for business and occasionally for pleasure, but after more than a year traveling with the perfect partner I had forgotten how different it is to fly solo. After the initial disorientation of arriving in a new city (and at the wrong train station), I found my way onto a local bus that soon deposited me near the historic city center. Bratislava isn’t a top tourist destination and there isn’t a list of “must sees”, so I decided to roam the mazelike alleys and cobblestone roads of the city center to feel Slovakia’s beating heart. The brisk mid-morning air quickened my step and the liberation of being alone was invigorating. I thought, I can do whatever I want. I’m free to explore to my heart’s content. I am the master of my own domain. So I spent the next hour wandering the vibrant historic streets lined with ornate, colorful, old buildings. Street carts peddled souvenirs to crowds of tour groups in the main square and outdoor patio seating crowded even the most generous spaces.

Ready for a change of scenery, I headed up to Bratislava Castle, a 15th century hilltop fortress overlooking the Danube River. The original castle was mostly destroyed by a 19th century fire and reconstructed in the 1950’s; it was inexplicably closed for renovations when I arrived. However the views were impressive and they provided a different perspective on the city. From the 1970’s era “UFO” Bridge spanning the Danube (the bridge literally has a spaceship-like structure at its apex) to the monolithic housing complexes and other communist-era buildings appearing in the distance, the cityscape retained a Cold War feel. But Bratislava’s race toward modernity was also evident; enormous billboards with consumer-enticing advertisements were omnipresent, cloud-piercing cranes stoically erected new modern buildings, and a disproportionate number of German luxury sedans paced the streets. Beneath the autumnal haze, a city was being transformed.

Returning to the city center I now noticed real estate sales offices (with signs in English), internet cafés, art exhibits and a glut of Starbucks-like coffee shops. Notices posted opportunities for foreign investors. I was surrounded by capitalism in a city that not long before was a bastion of communism. As I continued exploring, I noticed two enormous signs, both covering the entire side of their respective buildings, which proclaimed Slovakia’s currency conversion to the Euro in 2009 – a proud achievement for this developing nation.

My last stop in Bratislava was at a recommended local restaurant called Prasna Basta. After nearly four hours of walking my feet ached for a rest, and as I opened the heavy wooden door and entered a dimly lit, cavernous room full of locals, I knew I was in for a treat. I came here for one reason – to try Slovakia’s national dish, bryndzove halusky. The gnocchi-like dumplings were topped with a generous serving of creamy sheep’s cheese and sprinkled with bacon bits. Paired with a local Slovak beer, the meal was divinely gluttonous.

With just enough koruna left in my pocket to buy a bus ticket to the main train station, I left the restaurant fat, happy, rejuvenated and ready for the train ride “home”.

My daytrip to Bratislava was a great mini adventure; an empowering confirmation that I can still travel alone, self-sufficient and capable in a foreign country. But I missed sharing the experience with the other half of Team Young – my wife, my wonderful travel partner, and the love of my life. Over the last 14 months, Tina and I have shared so many different experiences. Some have been traumatic and stressful, others have been exhilarating and wonderful, but these experiences are a common bond, a special private pact that will always be uniquely ours. I often take for granted how lucky we are to have each other – two crazy adventurers who quit their jobs, sold everything, and traveled the world. I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. Daydreaming, I often flash forward to a time when we’re old with gray hair and wrinkles, sitting together reminiscing about our trip around the world. And I smile.

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Two days in Vienna began with a comfortable three-hour train ride from Prague, followed by two legs of Viennese public transport. Jennifer had arranged our accommodation at an adorable little flat in a quiet residential area of town and we settled in immediately. It was already mid-afternoon by the time we went out on a walk to have a look around.

The architecture in Vienna exudes power. The buildings are large and imposing, stately with understated embellishments. We marveled at the Parliament building and Rathaus (city hall) with the beautiful Burgtheatre across the street. We strolled through the manicured garden of the Museum Quarter with the reciprocal museums of contemporary art and natural history. We walked around the Hofburg (the former imperial palace) and through Stephansplatz – the stylish shopping and restaurant quarter with grand buildings – pausing to admire St Stephan’s Cathedral with its beautifully ornate roof composed of colorful glazed tiles. I was mesmerized by the shop windows, elegant restaurants, and the spectacle of the whole pedestrian-dominated scene. There were men in classical Viennese dress, peddling opera tickets on the street; dance performers surrounded by crowds of onlookers; busy sidewalk cafes full of people watching the world walk by over tiny cups of espresso, layer cakes, and golden glasses of beer. Horse-drawn carriages clopped over the cobblestone streets, carrying smiling tourists around town and lending A Christmas Carol air to the scene.

After grabbing a quick bite near Stephansplatz, George and Jennifer hopped the tram back to the flat while Aaron and I opted to walk a bit longer. We wandered back the way we’d come, eager to see Vienna’s most stunning architecture at night. The buildings were all beautifully illuminated and it was like seeing them again for the first time. We walked leisurely toward the flat, invigorated by the cool night air, intrigued by Vienna, and stealing kisses in the moonlight.

Having come to the early realization that our foursome preferred differing travel styles, we opted to split up on our second day in Vienna. Aaron was the first one out the door that morning to hop on a train to Bratislava in neighboring Slovakia. I had originally intended to accompany him but, as I browsed the brochures of Vienna’s numerous museums and pondered the possibility of a day on my own, I succumbed to my mind’s desire for freedom. With a mediocre map and a pocketful of Euros, I found my way to the Underground and took the train to the Museum Quarter.

As I maneuvered through the city, I was overcome with awareness of being alone. After thirteen months on the road, I can count the number of days that I’ve spent alone on one hand and still have fingers left over. The initial realization of being alone in a foreign city is startling. Team Young has become a well-oiled traveling machine. We have naturally fallen into roles and responsibilities based on our personal strengths. Aaron, with his excellent sense of direction, generally navigates when we are on foot and, after all these months of following my cheeky compass around city after city, I found my navigation skills in need of a jump start. It occurred to me that even a well-oiled machine runs less efficiently with only half of its components and I smiled at the thought that I missed Aaron already. After the initial shock of aloneness wore off, I quickly remembered that I love being alone. Underlying my dependent complacency is the confidence and savvy of a seasoned traveler with a hunger for experience and enlightenment…a hunger that has led me down some roads less traveled.

As resident city of the Hapsburg dynasties, which ruled much of Europe from the fifteenth century through the early nineteenth century, Vienna amassed a vast collection of treasures from all over Europe. Today, many of those treasures are displayed in the city’s museums. With so many museums to choose from and only one day, I selected the Belvedere Museum and the Leopold Museum. At the Leopold, I spent hours in the presence of masterpieces by prominent Austrian artists such as Gustav Klimt and Egon Shiele and an impressive special exhibition of German artist Christian Schad. An art museum is the perfect venue for a day alone because it is quiet, there are plenty of stimuli for your right brain, and you can stay as long as you like in front of your favorite paintings. When I had absorbed more culture than my cranium could process, I wandered upstairs to the lovely museum café for a decadent lunch, lingering over tasty curry while giddily taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi.

Sufficiently recharged, I set out for the Belvedere Museum, which houses Klimt’s most famous painting, The Kiss. Along the way, I browsed a few book shops, picked up a new journal, stopped in one of the green city parks, and stumbled into the Nachmarkt – two narrow parallel streets comprising a premium food market and a restaurant row lined with boutique eateries serving well-dressed patrons at outdoor tables some of the most appetizing dishes I’ve ever seen. I walked slowly down each street, savoring the sights, sounds and smells and trying not to stare too long at the beautiful people or their delectable dishes.

Soon realizing that I didn’t have the stamina for the Belvedere, I sat down on a park bench with my mediocre map to figure out where I was. Glancing up, I happened to spot St. Stephan’s Cathedral in the distance and quickly headed in that direction. The restaurant and retail rue seemed even livelier than before. As I passed one particular sidewalk café, I caught a glimpse of a layered chocolate tart on someone’s plate and, without a second thought, without having to justify the indulgence or cater to anyone else’s desires, I wandered in and sat down at a small table with an excellent view of passersby. I ordered a gargantuan slab of sour cherry strudel and, for the next twenty minutes, relished the near-orgasmic sensation of each mouthful of plump, juicy sour cherries. It was a divine experience and the cherry on top of my blissful day alone in Vienna.

As I made my way back to the flat to reconnect with my traveling companions, I felt light, like I had taken a long, deep breath. I had forgotten how a day alone can rejuvenate the soul. At dinner that night, we all shared stories of our adventures. I think the day was good for everyone.

I have loved traveling the world with my husband. We have learned to have quiet moments in each other’s presence, which has probably been the saving grace of our sanity. We have enjoyed traveling with family and friends, the changing dynamic bringing new pleasures and challenges into our weird little world. My day alone in Vienna reminded me of the joys of taking personal time, stealing quiet moments to collect my thoughts and let my mind wander.

Two days in Vienna began with a train ride and ended with the same.

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With multi-style juxtaposed architecture, winding cobblestone streets with antique street lamps, castles and bridges that reflect on the sparkling River Vltava, and a panorama of Florentine elegance, Prague dazzles. While you could easily fill your days inside Prague’s museums and churches, the ultimate Prague experience is walking through the city, marveling at the beautiful Old Town Square dominated by the unforgettable Gothic Tyn Church; lingering on the dreamy Charles Bridge with stunning views of Prague Castle; strolling Wenceslas Square with the powerfully illuminated National Museum at its head; and climbing to one of the many elevated viewpoints to take in the magnificent red-roofed cityscape. And once you’ve let your starry eyes dance around Prague, you’ll want to return again and again to see the stunning views in the changing plays of light.

Of course, there are hidden treasures all around the city – a graffiti-covered John Lennon memorial wall, an Italian palace garden with a stalactite wall revealing faces likely conjured by Dante’s Inferno, and obscure modern sculptures by local artist David Cerny – that inspire touristic scavenger hunts, the hidden fruits of which are discoveries of interesting streets, pretty parks, and romantic nooks along the way.

Beneath the glitter, in dimly lit local pubs and in narrow alleyways, lies an arty, obscure culture of music and literature. You feel it on the streets at night as cool jazz seeps out of doorways, enticing you inside for a spot of warmth and a bitter Czech pivo (beer), and in ambient book shop cafés with brooding literary types sitting solo with a coffee and a well-worn paperback.

With our cheery traveling companions, George (who graciously hosts our website) and Jennifer, we spent five nights in the historic, romanticized city of Prague. We sampled a smorgasbord of Czech beers – the crisp fall air and cloudy skies always seemed to set the mood for a round – and cautiously dabbled in the local cuisine. Like German and Austrian fare, Czech food is heavy on meats, hearty stews, cheese, cabbage, potatoes, bread and dumplings. Street food in the form of pastries and sausages is omnipresent and cheap.

On our third night, when the four of us had the pleasure of meeting up with another friend, Jasmine, for dinner, I discovered a gastronomic delight called Sviloska – thick slices of roast beef with sweet bread dumplings, smothered in a rich sauce and garnished with cranberries and sour cream. Washed down with a half-liter (or two) of Pilsner Urquell and you are guaranteed to wake up a little more plump the next morning.

One sunny afternoon, towards the end of the week, Aaron and I went for a long walk on our own. Heading for one of the many elevated viewpoints, we ambled around the Charles Bridge, browsed some magnificent watercolors of Prague Castle, and ended up in a beautiful park overlooking the city. Yellow leaves lit up the trees and speckled the tree-lined walkways. It was magic. Young mothers pushed baby carriages while old men shuffled along on their daily walks. Teens flirted in the refreshing greenspace. Mountain bikers pedaled around. The park was noticeably free of tourists, which increased its enjoyment factor tenfold, and the view was magnificent. While we have observed the countenance of Prague locals to be generally dour, the faces in the park wore the happy and light expressions that you would expect to see among glorious yellow trees on a bright fall afternoon.

We loved Prague. It is easily one of the most beautiful cities in Europe – a city in which we spent more of our time walking starry-eyed through the streets and watching the world go by than delving into the museums, art and literature, religious influence, and the fascinating history of the Communist grip. Mysterious, hypnotic, jazzy and full of life, Prague’s intrigue and inspiration for artists and writers is easy to imagine. Even days after leaving, visions of Prague are still spinning through my mind and I am utterly fascinated. I am dazzled.

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Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Who doesn’t love The Sound of Music? I was captivated by this movie as a child and have fond memories of my mom singing the songs when the movie was shown on television each year. She has the prettiest singing voice and when I hear the songs in my mind, it is her voice that is singing them. My poor deprived husband has never actually seen the movie, a fact that endeared him to me even more when he agreed to embark on the guided The Sound of Music tour in Salzburg, where the movie was filmed, and even feigned excitement.

Salzburg, a city dating back to the 8th century, is most famous for two things: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and The Sound of Music. The city is surrounded by forest-covered mountains and straddles a gurgling green river with the historic old town on one side and the new town on the other. A medieval fort stands atop a cliff edging the city, dominating the skyline. The surrounding mountains are dotted with sparkling lakes and picturesque villages.

Rain was in the forecast during our brief two-night stay in Salzburg and, while we generally avoid tour groups, this was a perfect example of an exceptional time when joining the herd was advantageous: we had little time, no guide book, and wanted to visit several places that were spread out around the city and in the surrounding countryside.

Our guide was a flamboyant and witty fellow who kept us laughing as we rolled from one Sound of Music film location to the next. From the Von Trapp family home and the glass gazebo to the charming Mirabell Gardens with the Do Re Mi steps, the hills were alive with the Sound of Music. Our guide possessed encyclopedic knowledge of Sound of Music trivia and filled the intervals between sights with stories of the real Von Trapp family and the many liberties that were taken by 20th Century Fox to turn the real life story into one of the most famous musicals of all time. I didn’t actually know that there was a real Von Trapp family until this tour – a family that escaped the Nazis in the end by training to Italy (rather than hiking over the mountains), making a living through musical performances, and eventually settling in Stowe, Vermont. We sang the songs and marveled at the beauty of Salzburg.

The highlight of our tour was a stop in the charming little town of Mondsee. We visited St. Michael’s Church, where the Von Trapp wedding scene was filmed, and then sat down at a cozy café for some “crisp apple strudel” with hot vanilla sauce. We couldn’t find any schnitzel with noodles. The tour was cheesy but delightful and that first afternoon in Salzburg turned out to be the last good weather before the rains came. We walked around town a bit on our own – admiring the architecture, stopping by Mozart’s house, and browsing the pretty Christmas shops in the old town – but the cold and rain motivated us to spend most of the next day hibernating in our room.

Our stay in Salzburg was short but lovely and educational. I can’t wait to get home to Iowa to sit down with my family and watch The Sound of Music…and hear my mom sing the songs.

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The quaint resort town of Berchtesgaden in the German Bavarian Alps is a place of stunning natural beauty. The surrounding area, called Berchtesgadener Land, includes national park lands as well as a crystal clear glacial lake – the Konigssee.

Hitler fell in love with the area and bought a house there in the 1920s as did several of his key henchmen. The quiet mountain retreat of Obersalzberg eventually became the southern headquarters of Hitler’s government. For the Führer’s 50th birthday in 1939, he was presented with a lodge constructed atop Mount Kehlstein at a bewildering height of 1,834 meters. While most of the Nazi structures around Berchtesgaden were destroyed during the Allied invasion at the end of WWII, the lodge on mountaintop, referred to as both Kehlsteinhaus and the Eagle’s Nest, was left untouched.

After Oktoberfest, we needed a place to dry out and relax for a few days. Berchtesgaden was only a couple of hours from Munich by train and sounded like the perfect escape from the urban chaos. In Munich, buildings grazed in cement pastures and raucous pedestrians filled the streets. As the train whisked us away, the cityscape gave way to magnificent forest-covered mountains, dusted with the colors of fall. Peaceful alpine villages dotted the sweeping green valleys and cows grazed in wide open spaces. Cheerful guesthouses were covered with flower boxes, each overflowing with bright-colored blooms. Even in the confines of the train, we began to breathe easier.

Our small hotel, Pension Greti, was located in one of the outlying villages near Berchtesgaden, a pleasant two-kilometer walk from the Konigssee. It was a charming place with cozy, country-style rooms – a perfect retreat on a chilly autumn night. The village seemed to consist of guesthouses and restaurants, each as lovely and welcoming as the next.

On our first morning in Berchtesgaden Land, the weather was cool and wet but the forecast was optimistic for the afternoon. After lingering over a fabulous breakfast in our hotel cellar, we ventured out to the bus stop to catch the bus to Dokumentation Obersalzberg, the former Nazi compound-turned-museum, documenting Hitler’s rise to power, the lives of the Nazi elite, propaganda, racial politics and, of course, the concentration camps. Throughout our travels, we have come to understand that the Germans are deeply ashamed of their dark past. After seeing the Holocaust Museum, Yad Vashem, in Jerusalem, we were curious to discover the perspective of exhibits in a German museum.

Similar to Yad Vashem, the most interesting part of the presentation at Dokumentation Obersalzberg dealt not with the specific horrific acts perpetrated in the death camps but rather how a deranged maniac like Hitler came to power and influenced a nation toward genocide. The propaganda campaign, conceived and implemented by Dr. Joseph Goebbels, one of Hitler’s most loyal followers, was one of the most ingenious in history. While Yad Vashem approached the propaganda element by highlighting Hitler’s powerful rhetoric and anti-Semitic caricatures, Obersalzberg displayed more photographs of the Führer himself than we have ever seen – posters and other propaganda photos, staged to create and sell an image of Hitler as a man of the people, as a humanitarian, which slowly elevated the depraved lunatic to God-like status in the hearts and minds of his followers. The photos were both fascinating and haunting. I looked into those narrow dark eyes and saw evil but hindsight is twenty-twenty. Would I have seen it then? Would I have been able to see through the propaganda to the madman?

Just as we’d finished absorbing the propaganda campaign, Aaron suddenly noticed that the sun was shining! We tried to focus on the next section of the museum but it was no use. We had to get outside! We turned in our audio guides and headed for the bus that would carry us to the top of Mount Kehlstein and the Eagle’s Nest. The bus climbed for 35 minutes – higher and higher and higher. It was dizzying! We marveled at the views of Berchtesgadener Land below, still shrouded in mist but illuminated from above. It was one of those beautiful moments when the passing clouds filter the sunlight into visible rays beaming down to earth, as if God is smiling from the Heavens.

The terrace of the Eagle’s Nest is leased out to a restaurant which donates profits to charity but the real draw of the lodge, besides its sinister past, is the view. Ascending the final 124m stretch in an elevator, we gasped at the vastness of our surroundings. We were at eye-level with snow-capped mountain peaks. Forest and field spread across the valleys like a green blanket while the Konigssee glittered in the sunlight. Climbing the craggy terrain behind the lodge to the viewpoint on the highest boulders of the peak, we were on top of the world.

It took three buses to get us down the mountain and over to the Konigssee to catch one of the last boats of the day. We were quite impressed to have made it and excited about the two-hour excursion. As the boat glided smoothly away from shore and into the horizon, we were treated to a view that rivaled Milford Sound in the fiord lands of New Zealand’s South Island with dramatically steep-sided mountains plunging out of the water. The sun, still visible over the western peaks, lit up the red, orange, and gold trees on the eastern mountainside and created a mirror image on the surface of the lake. It was magnanimous.

We were headed to St Bartholoma, a pretty onion-domed church on the edge of the lake. The Catholic pilgrimage church is named after St Bartholomew, the patron of alpine farmers and of milkmaids. Halfway there, the captain slipped the electric boat into neutral, picked up his Flugelhorn (similar to a trumpet), and rang out a series of notes which echoed off the sides of the mountain. It sounded as if another horn player was repeating his every note, the clarity of the echo was astounding.

When we spotted St Bartholoma in the distance, we were disappointed to discover that the western mountains had already cast its postcard-perfect view in shadow. As we neared the dock, however, we saw that the soft light created a wintry pall, an ethereal glow, across the lakeshore. Stepping off the boat, we walked among the autumn trees and along the emerald green lake. The chapel doors were open and we found the interior modestly appointed with iconography and a simple altar. The chapel, which is accessible only by long hike or by boat, was quaint and lovely.

The sun had sunken completely behind the mountains as we made our way back across the lake. The ride was peaceful and we stepped onto the dock feeling relaxed. Since we’d been on buses for most of the day, the walk back to Pension Greti was a welcome opportunity to stretch our legs.

Our stay in Berchtesgadener Land was short – two gray days divided by a single blessed afternoon of sunshine during which we took in the historical highlights and breathtaking scenery. We enjoyed the infusion of German history into our alpine retreat but the best part of the German Bavarian Alps was the chance to escape the city, get lost and breathe in a few gulps of fresh mountain air before moving on to the next adventure.

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