Wednesday, October 26th, 2005
The Danube River runs through the center of Budapest in Hungary. In the middle of the city chaos lays an oasis of tranquility, Margaret Island.
Margaret Island
Margaret Island is one of the unique elements of Budapest. The island is located in the middle of the Danube River in central Budapest and is a little more than 1 mile long and 500 yards wide. With the exception of a hotel at the south end, the island is free of cars and buildings.
Historically, Margaret Island served as a private park for Hungarian royalty and you can see why. The island consists mostly of paths flanked by old growth trees, rose gardens and tailored lawn areas. Peacocks walk freely around the island and wild ducks nest throughout the island. At the south end of the island, you can visit hot thermal springs, walk on paths through peaceful ponds or relax in front of tiered water cascades. During part of the year, plays are undertaken at an outdoor theatre.
The island is named after Princess Margaret, the daughter of King Bela IV. If the beauty of the island is a reflection of the Princess, she must have been one impressive woman.
These days, the island is open to the public and serves as a recreation area. During the weekdays, workers in Budapest pour out of the city and onto the island for lunch breaks. Only in Budapest can you be in the middle of an active city, walk 200 feet across a bridge and be in a peaceful, forested area.
Traveling can be hectic and stressful. If you’re feeling this way in Budapest, a visit to Margaret Island should provide a cure.
About The Author
Rick Chapo is with http://www.nomadjournals.com – makers of travel journals. Writing journals are the perfect travel accessories. Visit http://www.nomadjournaltrips.com to read more travel articles and travelogues.
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Wednesday, October 26th, 2005
I had been backpacking for three months around Europe and had reached my final destination of Nice. Too bad I had 10 days till my flight home and I was nearly broke!
As I sat in the Gar de Nice, the train station, I started giving serious thought to how I was going to survive for 10 days on $150.00. I had just arrived from two weeks in Barcelona, a Spanish girlfriend and, well, it had seemed worth it at the time.
Lodging seemed like a good place to start. Hmmm!the Ritz? Probably a bit pricey. Eventually, I found a bed in a communal room in a hotel with a lot of character. By communal, I mean eight beds for both boys and girls in one room. By character, I mean the place was old when Napoleon was in power. The snoring alone was enough to raise the ancient roof.
Still, it only set me back $8 a night, so I had $70 to live off for ten days. $70 doesn’t go particularly far in Nice and some involuntary dieting was coming front and center in my mind. Even McDonalds was expensive, but the clean bathrooms made a daily trip worth it.
Fortunately, one of my roommates was Thomas from England. He was broke as well, but intentionally so. He had come down from London to relax on the beach. Every night, he went out and played guitar in front of cafes for spare change. He made the equivalent of $10 to $15 a night and felt he was playing well. I pointed out the money was being paid to make him go away. He just smiled.
Thomas soon figured out I was dead broke and empathized with my situation. For the next 10 days, I would follow him on his musical rounds and keep an eye out for the police. Apparently, the local authorities frowned upon freelance guitar sessions. This was particularly true when he played the extended version of “Hey, Jude†in front of diners that weren’t tipping.
Afterwards, we would buy wine and grab a bus to Villefranche Sur Mer, a beach area just to the east of Nice proper. There we would visit various friends Thomas had made over the years, drink wine and eat until the wee hours of the morning.
I have to admit is was a very good time and I was melancholy when the day of my flight finally came. Okay, the snoring in the room was obnoxious, but you could avoid it by staying up all night!
If you get stuck in Nice and are low on funds, Thomas still goes every summer. He’s the tall guy singing Beetles tunes off key.
About The Author
Rick Chapo is with http://www.nomadjournals.com – makers of travel journals. Writing journals are the perfect travel accessories. Visit http://www.nomadjournaltrips.com to read more travel articles and travelogues.
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Wednesday, October 26th, 2005
Denmark is one of the hippest countries in Europe. Copenhagen is the center of activity with a lively evening scene, palaces and castles.
If you’ve traveled to Denmark, you’ll understand when I immediately bring up the subject of bars. The Danish like to toss back a few when time permits. Time seems to permit a lot and a few beers often become many. To this end, going out for a night on the town with friendly Danes can be dangerous in the summer. Due to its location on old mother earth, it doesn’t get dark in Denmark until elevenish during the summer. This can be difficult to adjust to, particularly when you look down at your watch and realize it is four in the morning. And the sun is coming up! Ah, but Denmark is not all socializing.
Copenhagen
Copenhagen is one of those cities that is large, but feels small. I think this vibe arises from the fact there are a lot of walking only areas. Even in the center of the city, the streets are arranged like those in a neighborhood. This gives even the biggest restaurant or bar on the biggest street a local tavern feel.
If palaces and castles are your thing, Denmark has much to offer. The palace of Amalienborg and surrounding neighborhood area are definite examples of that over the top palace building period of Europe. A quick minivan trip out of town will deliver you to the castles of Kronborg and Frederiksborg. As castles go, I use the one through five cake rating and give each of these three cakes. The cake rating, of course, comes from the French Queen who suggested the poor be given cake to stop the complaints of starving.
Helsingor
Helsingor is a provincial city that represents the true Denmark or so I was told. Surprisingly, many a Dane seemed to consider Copenhagen a great city, but not really representative of true Denmark. With a righteous desire to seek the truth, I visited and stayed in Helsingor for three days. Indeed, the town was much sleepier than Copenhagen and had more of an authentic feel to it. But there was one problem.
Helsingor is full of Swedes. When I say “fullâ€, I mean it in the most complete interpretation of the word. I like Sweden and the people, so it wasn’t a big deal. Still, did this mean the Danes felt true Denmark was a Swedish colony? When I posed this question one evening, I was educated in a tone of near outrage. Turns out the Swedes were everywhere because Denmark has liberal alcohol laws while Sweden is extremely repressive. Since the countries are remarkably close to each other, the Swedes pop over for a few days of fun in the sun. Ah, my mistake!
All and all, I enjoyed my time in Copenhagen and give it a my highest “employment rating.†By employment rating, I mean that I liked it so much I tried to find a job so I could stay.
About The Author
Rick Chapo is with http://www.nomadjournals.com – makers of travel journals. Writing journals are the perfect travel accessories. Visit http://www.nomadjournaltrips.com to read more travel articles and travelogues.
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Wednesday, October 26th, 2005
On my first visit to Denmark, I fell in love with the country and the city of Copenhagen. Contrary to my guidebook, you could see elephants and experience ice hockey in the dead of summer.
The Hanson Brothers
Upon arriving in Copenhagen, I was burned out from backpacking and looking forward to a good nap. I was traveling with three other Americans and we became distressed as each subsequent hostel told us all beds were sold. After asking around [okay, we were in a bar], we were given a lift by a local to a “hotel†guaranteed to have space.
I could only sigh as we pulled up to the ice rink for the local professional team. Since we were “high and dryâ€, we entered and booked our beds. Left face off dot. Yes, our beds were arranged around the left face off dot. To make a little extra money during the summer, the rink melted the ice and set up beds everywhere. The scene can best be described as a giant collection of cubicles in an office with beds instead of desks. It was cheap, dry and had a communal feel since you could hear everything. If you’ve seen the movie “Slap Shotâ€, it was like living with a few hundred Hanson Brothers.
Danish Elephants
Okay, there was one Danish elephant. Okay, it was made out of wood. And poured beer. From its trunk. Ah, let me start at the beginning.
Having been befriended by some local Danes, we were asked in hushed tones if we would like to see real Danish elephants. Yes, we’d be able to touch them. No, they weren’t dangerous. We could even ride them? Wow, this was going to be a great entry in my Nomad travel journal.
We were picked up at the ice rink that evening and taken to the center of town. We stopped in front of what looked like all the world to be a small tavern. This is where they keep the elephants? We walked into a small tavern with!a life-sized, wood elephant.
As it turned out, the elephant was the world’s biggest and best beer dispensing unit. Put you glass under the trunk and pull down on a tusk to dispense your beverage of choice. Each tusk provided a different beer, but I investigated the mechanism far to often that evening and don’t recall the brands. Unfortunately, there didn’t appear to be an aspirin elephant anywhere to be seen the next morning.
If you’re going to be visiting Copenhagen and don’t give a hoot about privacy, the ice rink hotel can’t be beat for price and a communal spirit. Well, maybe by the Danish elephants, but don’t tell anyone I told you.
About The Author
Rick Chapo is with http://www.nomadjournals.com – makers of travel journals. Writing journals are the perfect travel accessories. Visit http://www.nomadjournaltrips.com to read more travel articles and travelogues.
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Wednesday, October 26th, 2005
Switzerland is the land of skiing, chocolate and very private banking. Ah, but there is so much more to experience in the land of neutrality.
Interlaken
Interlaken gets its highly creative name from sitting on the split of land between two lakes. If you’re looking for a little extreme sporting, this is place. You can backpack, horseback ride, parasail and so on. To really take in the majesty of the alps, I highly recommend you cough up the money for a go at skydiving. You may have gone ski diving before, but I guarantee you nothing compares to free falling down through the mountains of Switzerland. This is how God must feel looking down at the earth. While God gets the view for free, you will have to pay!a lot. Still, the view and experience is something you will never forget.
Zurich
Zurich is the cleanest city in Switzerland, Europe and maybe the world. There place simply sparkles. Various guide books challenge readers to find a cigarette butt or piece of trash on the sparkling streets. Personally, I find the cleanliness of the city a bit of a negative. Stop rolling your eyes. The place is simply so clean that it seems to lack any real character. One keeps getting the feeling you are walking around a Disneyland Park. The budget traveler should be aware that Zurich is more expensive than even Disneyland.
St. Moritz
If you’re looking for the arrogant rich, over the top luxury and incredibly expensive prices, St. Moritz is for you. Not really my crowd, so on to the next city!
Geneva
Geneva is not “just another†clean city in Switzerland. Okay, it looks like it at first and second glance, but the third glance may prove a delight. With cobble stone streets, the city reminds one of the stereotypical Swiss images in the media. In reality, Geneva has a bustling underground of live music, art and general fun. Four aspirin and two bottles of water later, I can certainly attest to it. The only way to let your hair down in Geneva is to buddy up to a local and follow their lead. Trust me, you’ll have a blast.
Switzerland often seems a bit too good to be true. Perhaps it truly is a mountain mirage. Guess you’ll just have to visit to do your own investigation!
About The Author
Rick Chapo is with http://www.nomadjournals.com – makers of travel journals. Writing journals are the perfect travel accessories. Visit http://www.nomadjournaltrips.com to read more travel articles and travelogues.
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Monday, October 24th, 2005
Set in Austria, the Sound of Music is an epic film spurring dreams of a heavenly land in every child that sees the movie. In truth, they should have filmed the movie in Halstatt, Austria.
Halstatt
I had been in Salzburg for four days and was growing restless. The city was an eyeful with beautiful garden areas, architecture and plenty of sites to see. At the end of the day though, it was still a city. And an expensive city at that!
Flipping through my guidebook, a local I had made friends with suggested I take a day trip to the little town of Halstatt. As I looked under “H†in the index, he told me I wouldn’t find it in the book and I should just trust him. Off to the train station we went.
Sitting on the train, I soon met a fellow traveler heading to Halstatt. We chatted as the train puttered up into some of the most impressive mountains I’d ever seen. Soon we were running between the face of a mountain and a deep blue lake. The train stopped and he indicated this was our stop. There was a small shack, but no other buildings much less a small town. I began to suspect my buddy in Salzburg had pulled on over on me.
Out of nowhere, a small ferry pulled up to our shack. On we hopped and off we went across the lake. As we closed in on the far shore, a small town began to take shape. Swiss chalets, swans, cobble stone streets, outdoor cafes and!no cars. None.
Halstatt turned out to run about a mile along the shore of the lake. It was like something out of heaven. It is amazing how quiet things are when there are no cars, mopeds, trucks and other vehicles. Frankly, it was surreal.
I rented a room in a chalet directly on the shore of the lake. My window looked out over the lake. As the evening wound down, it was hard to imagine a more peaceful place in the world. The morning was more amazing.
Halstatt is located at a very high point in the Alps, which had a surprising effect. Lying in bed, I stared out my window into what looked like a television set gone bad. It was totally grey. Walking to the window, I was stunned to realize we were so high the clouds had settled roughly 20 feet above the lake. Words fail me, but it was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen. There was total silence, a slowly swirling cloud cover being reflected by the lake and swans floating around. Truly a site to behold.
Halstatt is a difficult one-day excursion from Salzburg? The difficulty lies in leaving. I stayed for a week!
About The Author
Rick Chapo is with http://www.nomadjournals.com – makers of travel journals. Writing journals are the perfect travel accessories. Visit http://www.nomadjournaltrips.com to read more travel articles and travelogues.
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Monday, October 24th, 2005
In my teens, I traveled to France with my mother, father and grandmother for a month of sightseeing with a rental car. Michael Schumacher and Formula 1 have nothing on my father and our Opel rental car.
American fathers have an interesting if somewhat aggravating habit on trips. Yes, I am talking about the desire to see everything there is to see. This was particularly problematic in France, which has a gazillion things to see. For some reason, my memory is a blur! I’ll have to refer back to my Nomad Travel Journal, but here we go!
Churches. Big churches. Small churches. Church ruins. New churches. For three days, my grandmother had insisted we stop at every church we passed. She is just about the greatest grandmother a kid could hope for, but she had been a grade school teacher for forty years and there is just no disobeying. Did I mention we looked at churches?
We pulled into Lyon as the third day turned to evening. It was raining. We were tired and grumpy. After a minor argument, we pulled up in front of an older hotel with vacancies and checked in. Family arrangements being what they were, my parents had one room while my grandmother and I shared a second. We all agreed to take a nap and meet a little later.
As I lay on my bed, I watched the rain come down hard on the windows. I also admired the old, intricate wood structure that was our hotel. I dozed off and was awaken a few hours later by my grandmother.
“The door is stuck!†she told me.
Grumbling, I walked over to the door and gave it a yank. Then I gave it another yank. Like a bad comedy, I put one leg up on the wall and yanked again. Alas, the wood seemed to have swollen and jammed the door shut. I couldn’t budge it.
At this point, my grandmother made a passing comment about the two years of French I was taking in high school and pointed to the phone. Dutifully, I called down to the lobby and chaos ensued. Somehow, we had lost the key, so I couldn’t tell them what room we were in. It just got worse.
What is the French word for “door?†Don’t know? Neither did I nor do I now. All I could say to the person at the front desk is, “We are stuck!â€
To top matters off, I also started yelling my last name, Chapo, thinking they would at least come investigate. After being hung up on twice, it occurred to me that the pronunciation of my last name means “hat†in French. Yes, I was yelling,
“We are stuck! Hat!â€
“We are stuck! Hat!â€
Intensely cussing up a storm, I walked over to the door and banged it with my fist. It bounced open. My grandmother and I stared at each other and burst out laughing.
I hoofed it to my parent’s room to tell them the story. Half way through the tale, my mother plugged in her hair dryer, flipped it on and blew out the electricity for the entire floor.
We left very early the next morning.
About The Author
Rick Chapo is with http://www.nomadjournals.com – makers of travel journals. Writing journals are the perfect travel accessories. Visit http://www.nomadjournaltrips.com to read more travel articles and travelogues.
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Monday, October 24th, 2005
On the southwestern tip of continental Europe, Portugal is an old school country. In this article, we take a look at Lisbon, Lagos and the Algarve.
Lisbon
Lisbon is the biggest city in Portugal and is located on the Atlantic coast in middle of the country. I’ve been to Lisbon three times, but only for a few days each time. Every time I come away with the impression of elegance.
Arriving by train, your first taste of Lisbon is when you walk out of the train station directly onto the shore of the harbor. As you look to the ocean, the name “San Francisco†immediately comes to mind. Mountains rise up on both sides of the mouth of the harbor and then there is the bridge. Running across the mouth of bay is a bridge that looks for all intensive purposes like the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. I’ve never had a chance to research it, but there has to be a connection.
As you walk into Lisbon, everything is clean and relaxed. There are walking only streets with cafes and garden areas. Bringing to mind San Francisco again, there are cable cars running though the center of the city. I can’t tell you why, but Lisbon is a very low stress city on both the mind and the wallet. Yep, it is cheap and a good destination for budget travelers.
Algarve
The Algarve is the southwestern tip of Portugal and borders on both the Atlantic and Mediterranean oceans. This is an interpretation on my part as some feel the area only covers the beaches on the Mediterranean Ocean. Regardless, the Algarve is a collection of beach towns that remind me of Southern California in the 1940′s. No I am not that old. I am just relying on family stories and pictures. Jeez, give me some credit! One of the highlights of the Algarve is Lagos.
Lagos
I grew up in San Diego, California. It’s a great place to be a kid and an adult. The only complaint I have is a lot of people seem to feel the same way. The population has exploded beyond belief, freeways are crowded on weekends and housing prices average roughly $500,000 for a deluxe closet without driveway. Its still nice, but I’ve begun to think about relocating. If I do, Lagos may be my destination.
Lagos is a sleepy beach community with just about anything you could want in paradise. White beaches, private beaches, grottos, wine growing, a lively nightlife, modern conveniences and just about the nicest people you have ever met in your life.
You can stay in a hotel while in Lagos, but this is a mistake in my opinion. Instead, go to the train station and reserve a room with a family. Families in cities all over the world do this, but Lagos is different. The family you stay with more or less adopts you as one of their own. They will haul you all over town, introduce you to other locals and generally give you a true taste of Portugal. For veteran travelers, nothing could be better.
Rating
For an overall rating, I give Portugal and Lagos the highest rating of “bar.†I loved it so much, I wanted to stay and almost purchased a bar by blackmailing, bribing and begging a friend in California over the phone. Alas, his wife didn’t think it was such a good idea.
Hey, how about you? We could probably still get a good deal! No, seriously.
About The Author
Rick Chapo is with http://www.nomadjournals.com – makers of travel journals. Writing journals are the perfect travel accessories. Visit http://www.nomadjournaltrips.com to read more travel articles and travelogues.
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