Western Europe

Last Sunday, I climbed more than 760 steps to get to the top of the world's tallest church steeple (Ulm's Münster).  On Tuesday, I hiked for a hour to reach a simple white church that is perched on top of a hill in the middle of the Swabian Jura (Tübingen's Wurmlinger Kapelle). And on Thursday, I hiked to a bridge that crosses a 170 ft. waterfall to see an enormous palace in the distance (King Ludwig of Bavaria's Neuschwanstein).

     In my three weeks of traveling around southern Germany, I have realized this: I'll do just about anything for a great view. I happen to believe that a beautiful view, be if of a city or an alpine meadow, is always worth a long hike, a lot of steps, or a big time commitment.

    Part of the reason that I love to travel is to see things—literally. At home, we become so accustomed to the things we see that we forget how beautiful or interesting they may be. When we travel, we keep our eyes and ears open to the world around us to get a better sense of how it all works. Museums and art galleries are great and they certainly have their place, but the act of observing is never so unadulterated as it is at the top of a skyscraper or a mountain.

     I hope my travels continue to take me to beautiful places, and I would advise all travelers (especially those on a budget!) to seek great views. There's nothing better.

Here are some I've come across lately:

 Schlosses Castle

Marienbruecke

 I've been traveling through southern Germany for almost two weeks now, and I finally feel like I've gotten the hang of it. Booking a nice room in which to stay—easy. Finding the best places for cheap food—no sweat. Taking the trains—piece of cake.

The German trains, in particular, are known for being easy to navigate and reliable. They come and go at the precise time listed. A train scheduled to arrive at 14:33 doesn't come a minute too early or a minute too late. I wear a digital watch and I clock it... it's amazing. That said, every day of travel is still an adventure. 

Take Monday, for example:

I had spent the night in a small, stunningly beautiful town called Schwäbisch Hall. The town center consists of old half-timbered houses nestled into two hillsides, split down the middle by a winding river. After a full day there, I intended to take a daytrip via train to another town about an hour away, Schwäbisch Gmuend, to see what it might have to offer. There were a few sights that I had been advised to go see, and I was told that they might be worth the trip. Everything was going well until I hopped on the train. 

My train was scheduled to leave at 10:03 am from track 3, but when the wheels started turning and I looked at my watch, it read 10:00.50. I immediately knew I was on the wrong train. Nevertheless, I sat there and waited to see whether or not we got to my desired stop. I didn't want to look like an idiot for have no idea what train I was riding, so I didn't ask where exactly we were headed. About an hour later, I got off the train... in Nuremberg, over a hundred kilometers east of where I wanted to be. You see, once I was sure that I was on the wrong train, I made the decision to stay on until we arrived in Nuremberg. I was worried that if I got off in a tiny town somewhere in the Bavarian countryside, I might not find another train out for hours. With hundreds of trains coming in and out of Nuremberg every hour, I knew I would find my way back.

I was right. There was a train traveling direct from Nuremberg to Schwäbisch Gmuend leaving only fifteen minutes after I arrived. But it was a high-speed train and was more expensive than the local trains I'd become accustomed to taking. What's more, high-speed trains require seat reservations. With fifteen minutes until departure, all the seats were already full.

So I spent €20 to stand in the vestibule between two cars for an hour and a half as the high-speed train took me from Nuremberg to Schwäbisch Gmuend, which turned out to be an underwhelming town. Obviously things didn't go as planned, but at least I can say I've been to Nuremberg. 

This job is great; every day is an adventure.  

Soon, hordes of athletes and tourists will flock to China for the 2008 Summer Olympics. While they may or may not arrive hungry for victory, they are sure to arrive hungry, and as regards food, they may be in for a surprise.  For a satisfying culinary experience, foreigners should come with minds as open as their mouths, and try their best to eat like locals. A few must-haves include:

Beijing Roast Duck

In China, Beijing roast duck (pronounced bay-jing cow-yah) is famous; it’s even been elevated to the status of a “national food.”  Traditionally, the duck is oven-roasted, and served with thin rice-flour pancakes, scallions, cucumbers and hoisin sauce.  The dish is then eaten in the same style as Mexican fajitas.  The diner wraps a pancake around bits of meat and cucumber and dips the diminutive roll in sauce.  All parts of the bird are used—the head is served on a plate along with the body, and even the carcass is turned to soup that is served as a last course.  Chain restaurants like Quanjude serve Roast Duck at affordable prices, and even KFC in China has its own version of the dish, so there’s no excuse not to try it at least once.

Hole-in-the-Wall Dumplings

You’ll understand when you get there—in Beijing, sketch one-room restaurants (and the delicious dumplings that they sell) are ubiquitous. Here, “hole-in-the-wall” means lacking a door and buzzing with flies. Jiaozi (jow-zuh) have thinner and slipperier exterior wrappings than do Baozi (bow-zuh), which tend to have chewy rice-flour outer parts.  Both types of dumplings are usually steamed—not pan-fried like in the US—are served in brown circular baskets, and can come in a variety of flavors ranging from pork (jew-row) to vegetable (shoe-tie). The sauces that typically accompany dumplings in Bejing are vinegar and a hot (hot!) sauce that should be mixed together for the most zingy flavor.  Order hot salted peanuts (huah-sheng-me) with them and you’ll eat well for under US$1. 

Hot Pot

Technically, Hot Pot is a Mongolian Dish; eating Hot Pot in China is a bit like eating Mexican or Canadian food in the United States.  That’s no reason to avoid it, however; Hot Pot is delicious and (since you boil your own water in a pot in front of you) a pretty safe bet if you’re worried about food poisoning.  Hot Pot is a lot like fondue; you’re served a boiling pot of water and plates of thinly sliced meats, vegetables, and more, and it’s up to you to make a soup that cooks it all.  Hot pot can come plain or spicy—and be warned: spicy tends to pack heat and include tingling or numbing spices.

Scrambled Eggs with Stir-Fried Tomatoes

This is an unadventurous (and yet locally popular) dish that every foreigner should know how to order. The dish is pronounced see-hong-shuh-chow-gee-dan and is exactly what it sounds like. 

Vegetables

In China, ordering vegetables is tricky, because vegetables are the food that is most likely to give you food poisoning.  A good rule of thumb is that raw vegetables are never safe and cooked vegetables always are.  That said, if a vegetable dish looks or tastes funny, it’s probably safest not to eat it.  A few good dishes served at most restaurants are eggplant (chee-ay-zuh) and cabbage (buy-tie).

Closing Words (and Dishes)

In China, dishes are usually served in the following order: cold dishes, vegetable dishes, meat dishes, soup, and last but not least, white rice (to fill you up if you’re still hungry).  Foreigners who want their rice first should make sure to state this clearly.  Saying “First, rice” (Dee-ee-guh, me fan) will usually suffice.