Innsbruck Austria
There's nothing settling about being awakened at 1am by Austrian police asking to see your papers. This unfortunately was my reality the first night that I got to Innsbruck. I arrived there around 8pm after a 6 hour train ride from Vienna. When I got to my hotel, the clerk at the reception informed me that my reservation wasn't in her database. After showing her my confirmation documents she said, “sorry there must have been a clerical error, but unfortunately we're booked for the night”, basically a polite and articulate go fuck yourself. After my rejection I tried 14 different hostels and hotels only to be greeted with similar results. I learned that the city was so full due to an animal festival that weekend. Apparently painted goats have a lot of drawing power in Western Europe. So I said screw it, found a secluded park bench and sprawled out on my pack. This was around 10pm. Three hours later I was startled awake by the aforementioned gestapo. He gave me two options an Austrian jail cell or a bed and breakfast he knew halfway up the mountain that would have vacancies. I chose the latter despite the cab and nightly rate totalling 120 euros. The next morning I did the reasonable thing which was to set out to jump off of the 600 foot high Europabruck bridge. I should mention that I intended to bungee jump. I'm not good enough of a writer to be suicidal. When I got to the platform you can probably imagine the neurotic fireworks spectacle that was occurring in my mind. You know that nausea you get when you look over the edge from great heights and imagine the rail breaking causing you to plummet headfirst? No? Well those who do, its like that plus the knowledge that you will willingly be doing that in moments. I've never been one to get weak in the knees but this time was an exception. Heart palpitations, dry mouth, tight stomach, 3, 2, 1. I've never bungee jumped before but I can tell you that its worse than skydiving. With skydiving, during my free fall I couldn't tell how fast I was going because the ground looks too far off. With bungee jumping from 200 meters you can tell exactly how fast the ground is coming up to meet you and you're praying that your elastic band lifeline doesn't snap. Thankfully I didn't end up as a statistic. I had survived and was flying on a beautiful cocktail of adrenaline and dopamine. I blame this high for my next decision of the day. My brain was so flooded with epinephrine that I thought why not hike up the Innsbruck Mountains. For more hours than I'd like to admit, I struggled up a trail that rose over 1000meters in elevation. Evidently my diet of schnitzel, sausages and beer weren't great preparation for such a trek. Despite quadriceps cramping, 3 minor slips and other such moments of near ass breakary, I arrived at the ski lift station a sweaty, defeated mess. You'll be happy to know however, that all of the exercise that has benefitted my body in Innsbruck will be destroyed in Munich. Oktoberfest ist good. ( Author's note: The Munich entries are missing due to an ongoing effort to recollect the activities that transpired those 4 days. See Facebook pictures).
Rome Italy
I'm sitting in a rustic hotel room in Rome and through my open window I can hear a medley of two Italians arguing, a child playing and The Dave Brubeck Quartet's Time Out album being blared. That pretty much embodies the Rome I've encountered; passion, joy and culture. There is a bit more hustle to the city than I found in Venice but nothing compared to Londoners. The people manage to get things done in the metropolis while still finding the time to lounge. Afternoon espressos or glasses of wine aren't uncommon on weekdays. There are cafes and ristorantes every few steps and there you'll find people engaged in animated discussions over politics, or football or whatever else I can guess at with my language limitations. Most likely they're flying into heated debates over something mundane but the layman (myself) would never know. Language is a pretty huge barrier when it comes to understanding a culture, but I do know body language and the Italians are the most expressive I've seen so far. As for my personal experience of Rome, I got here three days ago and I'm ashamed to say that I did a sightseeing bus tour the first day. In my defence, it was about 30 degrees and Rome is a pretty big city to cover on foot. The tour delivered at least in the sense that I was able to see the Colosseum, the Pantheon, Spanish Steps, the Vatican, etc. This has been the oldest city I've seen. Its almost incomprehensibly old. This thought struck me when I saw the ruins leading up to the Colosseum. Its hard to remember the soldiers and political leaders that marched down these roads lined now with gelato stands. That's another thing about Rome, I challenge you to walk 4 minutes in any direction in Rome and not find a place that sells gelato. Anyway, my second day I wanted to do my own personal tour of Rome so I set off in the morning for a run. I should have learned my lesson in Dublin; nothing good comes from running in a foreign city. About 3 kilometers into the run (which is much worse than 200 meters into the run) I ran past a crosswalk just as a Fiat was approaching. It was partly my fault for not making eye contact with the driver and partly her fault for not looking. She slammed on the brakes a bit too late and ended up hitting me with her front end. It wasn't too painful though, maybe because I had a heaping dose of rage fuelled adrenaline on my side. I got up ready to drag Jenifer Lopez out of the driver seat then realized it was a little old lady. She looked like she was ready to cry and got out speaking auctioneer-quick Italian that I discerned was an apology. I relented. Back to the hotel I limped, laughing at the irony of being hit by a Fiat in Rome and being able to walk it off. Today I decided to stay low key for obvious reasons and catch up on writing. If anything else noteworthy happens in Rome I'll fill you in.
