A visit to Chernobyl: earth’s black mark

reactor 4 from the closest viewpoint allowed

Short history lesson (skip below for pictures and story of visit)

In 1986 something unimaginable happened. No person in history could predict that humans could leave a mark like this: an invisible 30km (19m) circle in Ukraine was unlivable for 20,000 years.

During the morning of 26 April the forth reactor of the Chernobyl complex was scheduled for routine shutdown. The plant leadership thought that it would be a convenient time to circumvent the usual protocol and for the first time test risky emergency procedures. The test failed and uncovered some crucial design flaws – but it was too late. The core of the reactor exploded, spewing radioactive material it into the air like the most deadly fountain in history. An emergency was declared, 31 fire fighters arrived and were exposed to lethal levels of radiation immediately. The next day, 53,000 people were evacuated from the cities of Chernobyl and Pripyat with hours of notice. The citizens were told they could return in three days, but were never allowed back. Reality hit the world; the safe days of nuclear power were over.

The wind immediately started carrying deadly particles of radiation around the world. The USSR didn’t even tell anyone until two days later when sensors in Sweden (1000km away) reported a spike in radiation levels.

Somewhere up to 250,000 people were sent to help clean up the site over the next two years. In some places, radiation levels were so high that they were only allowed to work 1 minute at a time before taking a break. Attempts were made to cleanup or neutralize the 180 metric tons of radioactive material trapped in the reactor, but they were futile. The only possibility was to initiate the “largest civil engineering task in history” and cover the site with the with a massive concrete sarcophagus to surround the reactor. Today, the sarcophagus is still protecting the world from unstable sludge of radiation.

Hunting parties were sent out in the 30km area to kill every living animal they could find, because of a fear of deformities. Haunting pictures of three legged animals are on display at the visitor’s center. Months after the accident, all trees directly downwind of the reactor died at the same time and turned a reddish-brown color. The “red forest” is still today one of the most contaminated areas on the face of the earth. Sadly, Belarus, the country which borders Ukraine to the north received over 60% of the radiation fallout. Wild boar in Germany are still found today with excessive radiation levels.

The health effects are virtually unmeasurable, and widely debated, but the estimates are:

• Immediately: about 50 workers killed from acute-radiation poisoning
• Regionally: a total of 5000-9000 deaths due to radiation or fatal cancers
• Worldwide: an estimated total of “985,000 premature deaths as a result of the radioactivity released” (who knows how they came up with that number)

You’ve likely breathed in contaminated air from Chernobyl at some point. The most surprising fact is that there are three other reactors on the site that kept running. Due to Ukraine’s electricity needs, they kept the other reactors (with the same design flaws) operating. In fact, they ran the last reactor until the year 2000, 14 years after the accident.

Our visit to Chernobyl

Today, the site remains restricted with both 10km and 30km checkpoints to control entrance. In 2011, the area was opened up to a limited amount of visitors if they book through approved tour providers and each person must receive a government permit. In July 2012, I and two others got a chance to visit the area.

The story started as a internet fraud warning on 60 Minutes – I sent an email to one of the tour companies and got a quick response. They thought they could get us the government permit with short-notice, but they needed $60 to confirm our reservation. I sent the money, waited anxiously for four days and finally heard we were in. We were told to meet a man in a white van outside of a hotel on Saturday morning at 9. Wear long pants and long-sleeved shirt, shoes fit for walking on broken glass, and bring cash for the rest of payment that was due.

Our group at the entrance to the 30km exclusion zone

We showed up on time, to meet a person who promptly collected our money. We headed off in the

Finding some hot spots in the soil with our geiger counters

white van, with a non-English speaking driver, and met the three other people on the tour: 2 Americans from San Francisco and a older French man. We weren’t too thrilled because it was a dark and cloudy day with occasional showers. Maybe it would clear up on the drive.

After 90 minutes of snaking through small villages in rural Ukraine, we were at the first 30km checkpoint. We drove a little bit more and reached the 10km checkpoint and the rules were read to us. Don’t touch anything, don’t leave the group, don’t take pictures of certain things, and you could be detained if you get contaminated or violate the rules. As our guide was telling us not to worry about the radiation, we made a stop to change shoes and grab two Geiger counters – one for her and one for us. Yes, of course. Don’t worry about anything.

Our second stop was the entrance to the city of Chernobyl which was not as contaminated as some of the other cities because of the wind pattern during the explosion. It’s a pretty small and very quiet town with a couple dozen buildings in sight (including a bright green cantine). Some of the workers and tour staff live in apartments here but for no more than 14 days per month.

Entrance to Chernobyl City

The new memorial of the accident in the town of Chernobyl. Each sign stands for a colony inside the 30km area; the back of the sign (with a red slash) signifies that each town is gone and will never come back.

The second stop was an abandoned school where things started to get spookier. I’m surprised that the floor hadn’t caved in while we were there. You could still see the class roster on one of the walls. There were books and toys, which would never again be used by a child, scattered all over. You could tell it had been looted, but there was still a lot left.

The inside of a former classroom – left just as it was 26 years ago.

Taking a nap? Some people say that they place dolls intentionally to spook you out – this one looks pretty legit.

More lonely beds in the school. Not even the lead paint is holding up.

We kept driving and had our first stop within view of the actual reactors. They are very sensitive to taking pictures at certain angles, so after this stop, when we were driving ~100m away from the reactor where you could see some more of the infrastructure and other parts that are now abandoned.

Our first view of reactor 4 from the road. It is farthest on the left; you can see the other reactors on the right.

Our geiger counters started to pick up intensity – we were moving in the direction of the heaviest fallout zone. We passed the red forest, which is still today the most radioactive place on earth. It’s called that because several weeks after the accident, all of the trees in this forest turned red and died. We also passed over a bridge raised above train tracks where many of the residents were evacuated from.

Our next stop, and most interesting, was the ghost town of Prip’yat. This town was built to house most of the workers and families of the Chernobyl complex, about 50,000 people lived there.

Pripyat’s once picturesque cafe on the water

behind the cafe – a once vibrant lake – but now just the home of this and a sunken boat

View of the cafe and stained glass from the back

once a swimming pool; now just a contaminated porcelain hole

surviving USSR propaganda in the center of Pripyat

The inside of Pripyat’s former community center

This was the center of town – a giant square – note how the trees have just sprouted up over the concrete. Like nothing was ever there.

reads – “dead kids don’t cry”

Another building in the city center – this one had an interesting sign – something about radioactive

once a movie theater – definitely not showing ‘Skyfall’ last weekend

the colorful green tile slowly molting off of the movie theater

Soviet sparkling water dispenser – “boda” – one of my favorites

We weren’t supposed to enter the buildings because of the radiation level or getting hurt or something, but they weren’t too strict on the rules as you can tell. Dodging broken glass, sharp exposed metal pieces, random holes in the ground, and crumbling cement we got a first-hand view of what years of neglect can do to our precious untouchable society. In many cases, it was clear that the buildings were looted and valuables stolen. Many times there were rooms full of chairs, electronics, pianos, furniture, and filing cabinets left to rot.

Oddly enough, the main warning was to avoid stepping on the moss and any vegetation, as the plants have an affinity to absorbing the radioactive isotopes. It was clear based on the geiger counter readings that this was true, but it was virtually impossible to avoid the vegetation. Moss was everywhere.

The next stop was the abandoned amusement park that was slated to open days after the disaster happened. No child ever used the iconic ferris wheel that now stands there, locked in time, rusting away day by day, soon to be just a speck of radioactive dust and memories.

if you are really well behaved, you can fire up the bumper cars

the Pripyat ferris wheel during a gray day – with our co-tour member Johnny suited up for fun (I think he was worried about radiation)

Shhh – don’t tell anyone. We’ve sat on the famed Pripyat ferris wheel and might be contaminated.

We left the city of Pripyat to the next stop – the cantine for lunch. Yes, the tour included a traditional Ukrainian lunch (think borscht) on-site, conveniently located about 1km from the reactor complex. Sound weird to be eating so close to the disaster, but don’t worry, it’s on the side that didn’t get fallout and the food is shipped in daily so they can feed the reactor staff and any visitors. To ensure you are not overly contaminated, you get screened on the way in… and they let you wash your hands with soap.

radiation screening when leaving the exclusion zone (or going to lunch)

If you have any leftover bread from lunch – you are directed to bring it. We are off to go feed fish from a bridge spanning a canal that circles the complex. These aren’t just any fish – these are monster catfish the size of small sharks. Why are they so big? Interestingly enough, it is not due to the radiation, but rather they are just thriving in the deserted environment. Two tips: they only like white bread (not brown) and it’s really fun to hit them in the nose with a big piece of bread. Sorry – I didn’t get any good pictures here.

We proceeded to the memorial honoring the 31 firefighters that lost their lives and rushed in to save the day. We were not allowed to take pictures of the reactor from this angle for security reasons.

We all solemnly hopped back into the van where we drove on a new route with the the four reactor complex to the left of us and the river to the right of us. Surreal to see a giant natural river right next to a series of reactors. We arrived at the final stop – the viewpoint of the sarcophagus from 200m. It was crazy how close we were to the reactor – you could see the details of the structure that was built as quickly as possible during post-apocalyptic conditions. It is definitely showing signs of aging, but surprising well built all things considered. To the right (not pictured or you would get arrested) was the new super-sarcophagus that was being built to protect the reactor long term. The geiger counters were going crazy at this point.

Me and the reactor with the sarcophagus surrounding it

We said goodbye to Chernobyl and took one last breath of the fresh air before we hit the road. Our final stop was a sad, sad convenience store that had four hideously designed “souvenirs”: hats, shirts, coffee mugs, and lighters.

On the ninety minute drive back to Kyiv, we took some time to reflect on the visit, but it was almost too much to process right away – perhaps we even had a small PTSD. There’s something about a bond formed while exploring an abandoned nuclear site that can’t really be described… except in the back of the van, in true Ukrainian form over a bottle of vodka and some imitation crab flavored croutons.

(a couple of photo credits to Danny and Johnny)

Привіт, Київ! Hello, Kyiv!

Welcome to a country where the police may demand a bribe if they hear you speaking English. A country where the government takes money from the EU earmarked to protect history’s largest man-made disaster – and uses it for other projects. A country where a politician accused of poisoning his rival and rigging past elections is the current president. A country that still shows parts of its repressed, former soviet history divided between Russian and Ukrainian speakers. A country that still has an active communist party handing out newspapers at train stations. Most residents don’t speak English, but they are friendly to visitors. Here, rent is cheap, but a cockroach-free apartment is reserved for the upper-class. Oh, and here’s a bottle of water – you’ll need it – you won’t be drinking the tap water because of the chemicals. Despite the problems, things seem nice here. People are (somehow) even happy. Some call it the wild, wild east. Most just call it Ukraine.

Top of Andrew’s descent

Ukraine is the second largest country (behind Russia) in Europe by land mass. Kyiv (or Kiev) is Ukraine’s largest city and capitol with 2.7m people. Tough history: They had a famine in the 1920’s that killed millions because of Joseph Stalin. They lost 6 million people to WWII. Finally after years of being culturally repressed by the USSR, they got independence in 1991, but suffered economic chaos and political corruption. Things are looking up for the future, especially with the revitalization of the city as it hosted the EuroCup earlier in 2012.

My flight landed late; 1:30 in the morning, and it wouldn’t be an adventure if my luggage arrived…. so here I am at the luggage office of the Kyiv airport at 2:00 am forced to complete three copies of paperwork (one each in English, Russian, and Ukrainian). I get a text message from my host Danny, my friend’s brother who lives in Kyiv, saying cab he called for me was here. If you hire a cab from the airport without calling for one, you can pay up to four times more.

Both Russian and Ukrainian use the Cyrillic alphabet, so every sign is a complete mystery to me, but luckily for now, most airport signs were also in English. Try to read this: Ось приклад деяких українських письмовій формі, так що ви можете бачити, як він виглядає. My favorite characters  are:

Ж , Ю  Д  Щ , И , Я

After confirmation the airline had no idea where my bag was, I find a blue Volkswagen, license plate AA 1139, driver’s name Peter – exactly as specified in the text. He doesn’t speak a word of English, but welcomes me in. He’s watching a WWII movie on the old DVD player atop the dashboard. We pull away, and I’m hoping that he’s taking me to the right address, but I can’t pronounce it (Давидова 15), so the only thing I can do is to sit back and enjoy the complementary in-drive movie. The driver starts typing on his GPS, then gets a phone call – while the movie is playing – juggling three electronic devices at once – and smoking a cigarette. After 35 minutes and a couple close calls with road obstacles; I learned that in Kyiv, the car actually drives you.

We finally arrive in a dark, graffiti-ridden alleyway, and I’m almost certain we’re in the wrong place. We call Danny and his friends who speak a bit of Russian and the driver asks where they are. They start to argue, so the driver takes me around the block to the other entrance, pointing and yelling bad words in Ukrainian and the whole time. He’s angry, so I get out of the car and pay him so he’ll be stop with the temper tantrum. He parks the car a couple blocks away, sitting there waiting. This makes me worried that he was waiting to rob me. I call my friends, after 5 minutes of describing where I was, we realized that the cab had gone to the right place, but Danny and friends were at another apartment, hence the confusion. About 20 minutes later, the cab driver called my friends to check up and make sure I found them safely. He was waiting for me – to make sure I was safe.

I met Danny and two new friends, all English teachers living in Ukraine, at 3am on a Boulevard under the glow of iron soviet-issued street lights surrounded by tall, simple concrete and brick apartment buildings on a near-perfect summer evening. Since it was already late, we enjoyed the evening, taking advantage of the many kiosks selling snacks and beer all night long. We scooted over to a man-made canal (giant concrete slab with water flowing) to watch the sunrise with Ukrainian junk food – bacon and crab flavored croutons. Since it was already 7am, we found the neighborhood market just opening and we joined a line of 10 people waiting in line for milk and cheese from a babushka (grandma) as Danny impressed some older ladies with his broken Russian. It was finally time for a couple hours of sleep after a long, pleasant night.

The endless escalator – two sets of these monsters take 7-8 minutes to ride up.

Running on two hours of sleep, I woke up Friday to be taken on the Kyiv metro and dropped off on my own for the morning. The elaborate metro stations show off their marble, ornate decorations, and communist statues from the soviet era. This metro is the deepest in the world – 100m (328ft) underground. This means you two never-ending and swiftly moving escalators about four minutes each up or down from the ground to the train. I suspect the train rides only cost about 20 cents because of the inconvenience. I emerged, walking down Khreshchatyk street and had  spectacular views of Independence square]. I stopped at the Besarabsky market and was surrounded with varieties of fruit, more caviar than could feed a whole country, unrefrigerated raw meat that looked less than desirable, also complete with overly aggressive vendors who wanted you to buy their stuff.

Time for my first glass of the ubiquitous street drink – kvas – a non-carbonated alcoholic fermented drink made from stale bread. tasting between kombucha and beer, but refreshing. I am still regretting the thick-sliced salo – uncured raw pork belly – eaten on brown bread.

Chopping meat at the market

After wondering around some more, Danny met up with me for lunch at a Ukrainian cafeteria where we stuffed ourselves with Ukrainian specialties: red and green borscht, local sausages, Varenyky (dumplings like perogi), and more. We went off to see some of the coolest churches I’ve ever seen. The colors were fantastically vibrant and had a modern but traditional look all highlighted with gold leaf. Inside, you’d think it was a chapel – there were no seats to be found- only walls and domes covered with ornate murals, tapestries. The women visitors (fully covered up) passed picture to picture of Jesus to kiss each one. Much more intimate then the giant Western European churches.

St. Michael’s Golden-Domed Monastery – Periwinkle Power

Perusing the endless street vendors near Andrew’s Descent you can see some of the most unique and rare-to-the-west merchandise around. Looking through USSR uniforms, busts of former communist leaders, flags from years ago, Matryoshka dolls with anything you could imagine, pins with the immortalized hammer and sickle, and even the occasional weapon – you might think you’re in a hands-on museum. We went home early to nap and wait for the airline to drop my bag around 8-10 as promised. I called them at 12:02 and was told that I wouldn’t get my bag until tomorrow. Oddly enough, at the exact same, the delivery people called. They were outside.

St. Andrew’s Church on the top of Andrew’s Descent

Saturday was a big day. How do you start big days? McDonalds breakfast with a side of Ukrainian replica McFoxy’s chicken balls, which were quickly rejected by my immune system. We took an amazing journey to Chernobyl (which I’ll cover in a separate article) and were back in time for drinks and dinner, where we joined tables and enjoyed several carafes of vodka with Ukrainian people about our age. They invited us to come to another bar with them where we saw a fun but not musically inclined Ukrainian cover band butcher every American song we knew.

The Mother Motherland statue

Sunday morning crept up on us faster than expected. We took the morning easy, with a walk on the bluffs overlooking the wide river and visited a park that was possibly the most obvious remnant of the soviet era in the city. Strolling through a sidewalk with serious speakers blasting either opera or military marches (depending on the mood), we passed cannons, a military exhibit, and several extremely dramatic communist statue depicting struggling people. As we passed a memorial honoring the strength of the 14 soviet “hero cities,” the pinnacle of the park awaited us. The motherland statue.

She is the exact opposite of the 151ft Status of Liberty. The 203ft high, chrome plated statue sports a sword in one hand, a shield in another, and a look that could melt you, and muscles that could kill you – not the most inviting message. And Ukrainians do not like it when you call her “Mother Russia.”

Inside the arm of the statue, climbing to the shield

Just like the Statue of Liberty, you can go to the top for the best view of the city. And of course, as good tourists, we went to the top. They rejected Danny for his sandals and yelled at us to wait 40 minutes. We were met by our guide, who smelled fresh of vodka, and started towards the innards of the statue. We hopped into an elevator that could comfortably fit one person and started our ascent. The second elevator ride was a little more touch-and-go, but we made it. After that, we started climbing stairs in the dark, military green, steel inside of the statue. We were then told to climb several ladders that followed the contour of the arm of the statue without a harness. After we shimmied up the ladders, we emerged outside in a steel cage that was behind the shield to admire the city for a couple minutes.

View from the top of the Motherland statue (nice sword)

We took a one of the thousands of the city’s mini-buses (marshuka) back to the central station. One more glass of kvas, retrieving my bags from the cryptic, perhaps bomb-proof, I took the bus (no more taxis) from the train station and launched off to the comfort of the western world.

Truth be told, I can’t wait to go back.

Statue with St. Michael’s in the background

One night in Köln, Germany

Two weekends ago it seemed like everyone was out of town. I had to jump ship too.

After hearing a documentary about abandoned embassies, I thought Cologne, Germany would be an interesting place to visit, and I was craving some German beer and sausages. There is a direct 2.5 hour train, but to save some money, I took the slower, cheaper trains with 3 connections. I almost missed two connections, learned the hard way this was a bad idea.

I started at the Kölner Dom church, right next to the train station. It’s the biggest building in the city (by far), one of the biggest churches in the world, and apparently even the most visited landmark in Germany. I didn’t get a full appreciation for it’s size until after climbing 509 stairs to the top of the tower for some impressive views of the city.

Kölner Dom church from the front

In Germany, you don’t order beers, they just bring them and count them on your coaster.

Getting hungry, I thought I’d pop into the Früh brewhaus for a light snack and also some of the city’s famous Kölsch beer. Anytime I visit Germany (confession: only twice), I’m always impressed by the service. They take refilling beers seriously and will put a fresh one down when you are near empty until you beg them to stop. Some places drink beer so fast, they don’t bother to refrigerate their barrels and they sit atop the bar with a tap on the bottom. Their meals are social and jolly and the people-watching always good.

I found someone to host me in Cologne for the night. We met up, chatted, and started to get ready for a BBQ with some of her friends that she invited me to. I learned about the German “Call a Bike” – which are bikes you pay by the minute and leave wherever you want inside the city. If you want to check them out, just make a call on your phone and type the number. Very cool.

 

BBQ on the Rhine River, overlooking Cologne

We got to the BBQ and set up shop overlooking the small skyline of Cologne  (dominated by the church) from a beach on the Rhine River. We ate, we drank and I met many new German friends as we watched day slowly turn to night and  the colors of the city come alive. Everyone was very hospitable and were generally happy to speak English with me. When it finally got dark, the umbrellas were replaced with torches and we went on for hours, hearing stories about how one of the people in the group swam across the river years ago, how Cologne is the best place for Carnival (every European city says that), and how some clubs in town don’t even close until people leave, sometimes 11am.

The next morning was a relaxed one. My host took me for a walk around the city, weaving through some of interesting parks and neighborhoods including the Rheinauhafen, a modern, gentrified harbor. We ended up grabbing a plate of blood sausage, cheese, and onions before fighting the crowds of a festival in town while rushing to my train. That was it. 24 hours in Cologne.

Rheinauhafen – the gentrified canal area

Remember the mention of the city with all the embassies? Well, I made a mistake. Bonn, 30 minutes south, was the city I was originally looking for. Whoops, that’s on the list for the future.

Bar-sí-lona: part II

(continued from Bar-sí-lona: part I)

Barri Gotic is the oldest part of town with grey and colored six-story brick buildings so tightly arranged together you can’t fit a car. You are distracted by clothes lines spanning across apartments, cast iron balconies, the charm of an authentic slightly-seedy neighborhood, with sporadic open squares where the streets don’t exactly line up, no concept of N, S, E, or W, and you know that most of the tenants have called this place home their entire life. This is where I found an incredible €4 haircut by a guy who used only shears and a straight razor – my treat for waking up early Friday morning.

Barri Gotic (and Dave throwing a ball in the air)

Still without coffee, I stumbled down La Rambla, tourist HQ, street vendors poised to make a sale with things from crafts to clothes to even turtles, birds, and several €40 chipmunks. Seeking refuge from the boring vendors, I turned the corner and accidentally stumbled into Mercat de la Boqueria, one of the best markets I’ve ever been to. It had the extravagant displays of Pike Place, vivid colors from fruits & fresh juices found in Mercado de La Merced in Mexico City, and a seafood display that would make an exotic aquarium envious. I was surrounded with spice merchants, food stands, perfectly ripe produce, and thousands of hanging, glimmering jambon legs waiting to be eaten.

La Boqueria – seafood department

What was on the agenda for the rest of the day? Surely not the beach again? Since it was so nice, we took the metro to the other end of the beach. The Barcelona metro is extremely well run – tickets are about €1 and the trains run about every 4 minutes, so when you miss one it’s no sweat. The group found some people to play volleyball with, we swam a bit more, and played this paddle game.

Iberico jamon (ham), waiting to be sliced and delivered into a hungry stomach

We ate a stunning dinner at Pla, with an almond-melon soup that made our group go wild. We met up with the Barcelona Bar Crawl group, starting at this quirky bar illuminated only by red fluorescent signs, list of albums hanging from the wall to take requests (if you didn’t fill out a request, they stopped playing music), and headphones hanging above the bar in the case you really wanted to tune out the other patrons and listen to a song. After 3 more bars, we ended at some three story dance club having a blast. Watching the clock, we noticed it was getting late, so we headed back and said goodbye to John and Lindsay who went straight to the airport to catch their early flight. The streets were still packed and loud around 4am, but nothing in sight was open for a snack.

We met up Saturday with lofty goals of not going to the beach again. Needing something more substantial than just tapas, we stopped at an Uruguayan grille for lunch. Tiffany ordered the “la carne la parrilla” and was surprised to see two beef ribs bigger than her arms show up on a platter front of her.

We waddled to the our next stop, La Sagrada Família, one of Gaudi’s still-under-construction treasures of Barcelona, dominantly tall, sitting high above the skyline viewable from almost anywhere in the city. Walking into the church was literally an experience I will never forget. Sure the gothic-meet-transformers sculptures are like nothing else, the nativity scene’s detail is world changing, the partially completed stained glass is vivid with a modern pattern, the gothic columns inspired by trees, spires and external detail unmatched, and the views of the city from the bell tower are impressive, but nothing held a candle to the experience of walking in and seeing the inside of main church for the first time. I have already planned to come back in 2028 when the construction is finally complete.

Stunning inside of Sagrada Família

We took the long way home, through upper class l’Eixample, seeing two more buildings designed by Gaudi. Later in the night, we ended up at the Irish pub again to watch the Spain football match, which got rowdy. A couple days earlier, we found out it was Revetlla de Sant Joan near the time of the summer solstice, not really a festival. It was a holiday, with nothing organized – just random

The beach at 1am during the Revetlla de Sant Joan festivities

bands on stages throughout the city, and adults and children as young as 4 lighting off fireworks everywhere you could imagine. So we went to the beach around midnight – walking through a war zone with sounds of fireworks everywhere, often lit off right in front of you – to join tens of thousands of people lying on the beach in the dark cheering on the rogue firework displays. To help experience the local culture, we decided to get some fireworks and join in; when else do you get the chance to light bottle rockets in a city center?

We needed a museum – Picasso perhaps? Nope, closed on Sunday. Instead we got lunch at La Paradeta, my favorite meal of the trip. After you walk in, you’re greeted with a cooler of raw seafood beautifully displayed on ice. You basically just point at anything from lobsters to whole calamari to shrimp and oysters, they weigh it, you pay, they cook, you wait, they call you, you eat and eat and eat. So much food. So fresh. Go good.

Last stand of sangria overlooking Barcelona from Montjuic

Our final hurrah was a ride on the gondola above the city to the Montjuic hill with some killer views of the beach and harbor. I had a flight to catch, we bid eachother sad goodbyes.

Somehow, I felt like I knew the city of Barcelona before I even got there, maybe because of its similarity to Buenos Aires, Argentina. Spain proved to be the extremely relaxed culture I always pictured it to be. I was off to a delayed flight and an airport meal so unsatisfying it made me want to go back to Barcelona before I even left.

Bar-sí-lona: part I

The first thing I noticed after landing, besides the marble floors in the airport, were the palm trees. 99% of the time, when you see palm trees, you know you’re at the right place. I hopped on the train to downtown; within 40 minutes, I was at the Para-lel metro stop rendezvousing with the group. With some time to kill, I stopped at a corner store to get my bearings and some fruit and beer. First impression: the streets were really busy, dry warm weather, and things cost 20% less than the Netherlands.

The incredible city of Barcelona from atop la Sagrada Família

My friends left dinner early to meet me, and I switched from business clothes to shorts within seconds. We quickly proceeded to the nearest corner café to share pitchers of red sangria and eat some light tapas, trying hard to be Spaniards from the start. The group was not only Jon and Lindsay (who were on a 3 week tour of Europe and had been in Barcelona for a few days already) and Tiffany (fresh off her cruise from Greece) but Dave (coming from Iceland). We had a group to begin with, but it got even bigger. Jon and Lindsay ran into Duncan and Karen by chance, two old friends who now live in Seattle, when they were visiting a church in Barcelona. This city is bigger than one million people… what are the odds that they would be in the same city… let alone visiting a church at the same time?

Entrance to Park Guell (Dr. Seuss park)

The city of Barcelona is home to 1.7m people and sits on the north-east corner of Spain, only about an hour drive from France. It sits perfectly on the Mediterranean, modeling how it’s possible for a city to naturally harmonize with the water and feel so unforced. The people speak Spanish, but mostly Catalan, a language specific to the Catalonia provinces in Spain, that some people describe as a mix of French and Spanish. The Catalonia region has a very distinct culture and about 70% of the people who live there believe it is separate from Spain. They have even tried succeeding from Spain, a similar situation to Quebec. Many people say that the 1992 Olympics hosted by Barcelona helped revitalize the city, making it one of the most recommended places in Europe to visit.

We woke up the next morning dehydrated, but ready to get an early start. In our beach gear, the group went exploring in Park Guell. Before I go any further, let me talk about the legend Antoni Gaudí. He was a modernist architect who left behind an incredible amount of character to Barcelona through the buildings he designed. The park sits on the side of a hill near the edge of the city with impressive views and consists of several unique buildings, tunnels, arches, and elaborate tiling throughout. Every ‘t’ is crossed, every ‘I’ dotted. This is the park out of a Dr. Seuss book that you never though could exist in the real world. We covered impressive ground in 90 minutes; most guidebooks said you could spend a whole day here, but it was scorching hot and the beach needed us to visit.

En route to the Barcelona beach via the metro

The focal point of downtown, built right into the center of the city, is where you find the beach. As soon we picked a spot to call home for the next 4 hours, we were offered anything from cold mojitos to tattoos to massages, right from the comfort of our towels. What service. The great Mediterranean was colder than I imagined it to be, but refreshing on a hot day. After a few hours of my favorite activity in the world (beach napping) and swimming, we hopped over to the beach bar to cool off with some sangria and nachos. We then moved on to a tiny little place with retro green tablecloths for more sangria y tapas.

The Barcelona beach

After all of that slogging around, we enjoyed another much needed nap then went to watch the EuroCup football match at an Irish pub that which served Budweiser (how Spanish). We found a tiny bar with only six outdoor stools built into the side of a building with and popped “in” for a round of

Tiffany ready for Tapas y Sangria

chipitos. After striking out at a restaurant closed for family reasons, we ended up at this tiny café at 11pm eating killer anchovies, iberica jamon (similar to prosciutto), croquettas, cheese, and obligatory sangria outside. It was still fairly early for a Spanish dinner, since restaurants generally open at 8pm. We stayed out late, visiting a little bar called Bootleg. We topped off the night with Dave uncovering the secret of where street vendors stored their €1 beers.

Want to know where? Under the sewer grates.

I shouldn’t have given the secret away. Come back for Part II… that’s when it gets exciting…

A Lille weekend in France

A couple Sundays ago, my good friends John and Lindsey were passing through on their one month tour of Europe. We had an adventurous day in the city on a rainy Sunday traversing around Amsterdam, eating and drinking our way through the city with a cultural stop at the Rijksmuseum. I always thought Rembrandt was boring, but seeing his work up-close was pretty impressive. The inconceivable amount of detail and canvases bigger than my apartment were very dramatic. John and Lindsey headed off to Germany and a couple days later, Tiffany came in at the beginning of her trip. She was destined to a cruise around the Greek islands. The next weekend came and on a whim, we rented a car and decided to head to northern France. It’s only a 3 hour drive, so it would be stupid not to.

Lille (pronounced kind of like “lil”) is a town in north France near the border of Belgium. It’s an old town with a classic feel and rough cobblestone streets. It used to be an industrial town; from what I’ve read, I’d give it the likeness of “Detroit of France.” They’ve spent a lot of money to clean it up and make it a nicer city – good idea, since it’s the fourth largest in France. Now, you can see it’s a thriving town with a lot of young people – about 110k students. They of course speak French, and it’s not uncommon to run into people that don’t parle anglais. Unlike Paris, they were open to non-native French speakers and even appreciated my attempt to pronounce things incorrectly as I dusted off my rusty French (last spoken 18 months ago in Quebec).

Our first night, we booked a last minute room in someone’s condo outside of town through airbnb for only $30. It was a couple miles out of the city, but we took the metro into town. The lime green and orange colors of the metro leave out any doubt that it was built in the ’80s. It’s automated without a driver, and if you sit in the front of the train you are whipped around in a dark tunnel leaving you feeling like you got a €1.15 roller coaster ride.

Row of Houses near Notre Dame de la Treille

Arriving downtown we noticed it was getting late – so we were hungry and needed wine.  It was an easy decision to get the sampler of food which turned out to be stomach busting – consisted of cold chicken in its own gelatin (interesting), liver terrine, baked brie, Lille’s take on sauerbrauten, and a fondue. C’est très français! We found a bar to grab a couple drinks and after realizing that the average age was 17 (we should have known by the candy garnish on the mixed drinks), we headed out pretty quickly. Not quickly enough to miss the last train of the night, however. Since there are no drivers on the Metro, one would think there’d be no reason to shut it down at 12:30.

The next morning, we spent way too long at the Carrefour “hypermarket” immersed in the biggest cheese counter, liver-product dominated deli counter, baguette selection, and wine department I’ve ever seen in a grocery store. Finishing strong, I thought we could conquer the self-checkout, but after a man started yelling “ARRET!” because we were scanning things wrong, we had to admit defeat. Who knew you could fail at the self-checkout lane? We popped into our hotel in Vieux Lille (the old part of town) and Tiffany managed an impressive spread of food from our grocery experience forming our late lunch.

We hadn’t seen much of the city, so we went for a walk – finding macarons, a vieaux-modern church, Notre Dame de la Treille,

So many macarons, so little time (at Patrick Hermand)

beautiful old streets packed with shops, finally stumbling into a seafood restaurant (found because of the man shucking oysters outside) for dinner followed by the obligatory crème brulee. If you want to know how to not impress a French person – just drink a pastis(anise liquor) with your crème brulee. Saturday night, we did some better planning to avoid the teenage bars, and found some nice places to grab drinks – favorite being La Capsule. We stumbled upon an au pair from Milwaukee who’d been living in France for two years.

Our last morning came quick – we woke up early to pack and try for one more stop – the Les Halles de Wazemmes market. This market was 6 square blocks of a giant cluster. It spilled out blocks and blocks and had everything from live animals, to fabric, gently used clothes, gimmick mops and slicing devices, and even a row of food vendors selling whole cooked chickens and racks on racks of ribs. Ribs for breakfast? We did.

Les Halles de Wazemmes Market’s Food Vendors – breakfast

Wanting one more stop before returning to the Nether-region, we drove into Brugges, which we  confirmed to be the tourist trap of Belgium. We enjoyed a nap in the park, several chocolate tastings, and a cozy dinner. At the helm of a mighty Fiat Panda, we headed home through the Dutch countryside surrounded by buttermilk cows, tired but so free.

Brugges – the “Wisconsin Dells” of Belgium – you can see the tourist attractions seeping out of the bricks

Settling in & Witte Mandag

Six weeks and I’m settled in: I’ve slept on a real mattress for about a month. Today, I brought the last of my odds and ends of clothes home from under my desk, brought over from an earlier trip, so my co-workers don’t think I’m homeless. Most of my clothes are in my closet. My shopping list is down to non-essentials like picnic supplies, a third towel for visitors, a broom, and a mirror. I even have a train pass and a bank account with real euros floating around in there. I can’t understand the bank website, so I’m not sure if I’m moving hundreds of euros to savings or to some guy in Malaysia. I still don’t have a real mobile phone. Life’s hard when you’re stuck playing 3D snake on an old Nokia.

I’ve started to crave Dutch food – instant asparagus soup, fried sausages, frites, drinkable yogurt, and generic tasting Douwe Egberts coffee. I could consume a gallon of that asparagus soup in one sitting. I know the limited hours (including when it’s packed full) and my way around the local Albert Heijn grocery store. I keep the fridge stocked with glass bottles of the weekly beer special that comes in a returnable plastic crate (last week was Heineken 24/€9). I finally found hot sauce – several kinds. I even have a jar of peanut butter. Ms. Child would be proud of this pieced together pantry.

I take the train almost everyday and spend so much money on public transit that I might get a train station named after me. You can usually find me on track 14 getting on the 7:38 train or watching me miss it. No big deal – I’ll have time for a coffee and taking a stroll until the next train comes. I now have two bikes – one in the city where I work and one where I live.

I had my first work visit to a hospital. We were interviewing departments to find out how they operated and analyze how they would work electronically. The meetings were all in Dutch, except for one. I was confused, cold, and scared all day. If it wasn’t for my American colleague I was shadowing and the reliable courtesy of warm coffee religiously passed out at the commencement of every meeting, I could have disguised myself as a psych patient to sneak out. It was an extremely tough but very valuable experience.

…so maybe, just maybe… you can start calling me een beetje Nederlands (a little bit Dutch).

Biking around the Dutch countryside right before lunch of pannekoken (photo by Chad)

The weather has been the best 10 day streak I can remember in ages. It’s been sunny everyday, about 75 to 80 degrees and daylight until10:30pm. No one can stay away from going outside. I was invited to my first hausfeest on Friday. I spent Sunday at a beach (nice enough pond) in Den Bosch, followed by a BBQ at a colleague’s house, then we saw some saxophone at the Jazz in Duke Town festival. Much tamer than a show the night before, where one of the performers kicked a fan in the face and got arrested.

On Monday, we had a holiday on the same day as Memorial day, Witte Mandag. Three of us biked from Rotterdam to the Hook of Holland on the sea, about 20 miles mostly over land that was technically under sea level. We passed by a river that was above-ground; from a distance it looked like sail boats were floating above cattle. The weather continued to be gorgeous until about 2 miles from the sea, where turned dark like we walked into a closet. We still went to the beach, played frisbee, and yes, went swimming in the 45 degree North Sea. Feeling refreshed, we got some fried mussels and cod for a snack and headed home leaving a salty trail from our wet shorts on the train..

Friends and I ready to go in the North Sea (photo by Chad)