Tips For The European Traveler

Pack light - I'm serious. Everyone says this but they are never taken seriously. Really all you need is a weeks worth of shirts and two pair of pants, shampoo and such and a scrunch-able down jacket. One pair of shoes is all that's really needed and if you destroy the first pair there are shoe stores in Europe. All that's left is a beanie and scarf and gloves. You don't even need a towel since most hostels have them for rent and often you get the deposit back.
Give yourself time - you may think a few weeks or a month is enough to experience wherever you're going but it won't be, so add to it or just start out with what seems like a ridiculous amount of time!
Get a street and metro/bus map - no explanation needed there!
Get, or bring, a day pack - purses are cute but after a few cities your shoulder will be begging you to spread out the weight and the weather changes will make a day pack ideal to carry an extra sweater and a scarf or umbrella just in case.
Bring a camera but not a big one - after a few weeks you'll be wishing that camera wasn't so heavy-the less weight the better but don't just rely on your iPhone-some people do and most regret it.
Book hostels in advance, with sites like hostelworld.com or hostelbookers.com and others. Book early especially on the weekends since they tend to fill up with people taking long weekends. But I do it all the time so that I'm not forced to wander all over strange cities with a heavy pack.
Save money by walking or taking the public transit - why take a cab when there is a metro or bus for 1,50 Euro?
Always try to have cash on you when you enter a new city. For one its hard to find atms in a new city and some don't work on the weekends. And for two some hostels or cafes wont except credit or debit cards so always try to have about 50 Euros your first night in a new city just in case you need it.
Buy a universal adapter before you leave - each country has a different type of plug and although you can buy adapters in almost any hostel or corner story they are often only for that country so you could end up with five different adapters by the end of your trip.
And lastly - don't wait to take your trip. Of course you don't have the money right now and of course Europe will be there next year (probably) but you'll never be 100% prepared to go on such a trip so just acknowledge that fact and go!!!
And - have an amazing time!!!!!!!

Vienna, Austria-A Crowned Jewel

Vienna is astonishing and picturesque in Autumn.

Barely touched by WWII, an unusual happening to be sure, everything about Vienna is stunning.

It’s buildings are covered with intricate designs and are a clean, clear white.

The cities statues are exotic, clean and embellished with golden filigree.

Down every street there are dramatic buildings and adorable cafes.

With its elegant statues and buildings, Vienna seems to be on show or display for all of her visitors and travelers from around the world.

Walking through the stately city one feels like royalty surrounded by a city built to look like a palace.

Having only stayed one day in the beautiful city I can say little for its culture other than the local residences are kind and welcoming and friendly.

One stranger asked me to watch his bag while he bought a coffee and when he returned he told me when next in Vienna to let him know and he would show me around the city.

The night of my arrival from Venice, after a rather long journey, I climbed aboard the metro on my way to the outskirts of the city.

Although it was nearly midnight, the strange city seemed to live up to its reputation of being one of the safest in the world despite my hostel’s location being so far out of the way and I met with not even the smallest of problems.

It was at the reception desk of my hostel that I learned the first fact of Austria, that it is illegal to make any loud noises after 10 pm. I had to laugh wondering if my typing would be considered loud enough to gain attention in the quite dorms of the hostel.

The next morning after a wonderfully large breakfast provided by the hostel, I returned to the metro with a girl I had met that morning.

From there we explored the city, walking through parks and cathedrals, tasting exquisite pastries and chocolates, and photographing buildings and statues.

We walked above one of the rivers and suddenly saw how colorful the city of Vienna was with the autumn leaves covering the bushy trees and the imaginative street art that we began to notice everywhere.

Vienna seems to be caught in time, if not for the cars it would look exactly the same as it had 100 years ago-stunning and fit for royalty.

“Come along Life, take my hand, let’s have an adventure together.”

~KrystleLyric

Venice, Italy-The City Of Dreams

Venice is something out of a dream.

So beautiful it is hard to imagine that it is a real place, even when one is there.

Streets turn to narrow alleys that twist and turn around on themselves and then end abruptly in quaint squares or along canals that seem to spring from nowhere.

Each of the countless bridges is so picturesque that they seem more like paintings than actual stone or wood that one could walk upon.

Sometimes, when one reaches to touch the red brick of the narrow alley walls, it crumbles to dust beneath one’s fingertips and it is harder still to tell whether one is sleeping or awake in this dreamy city.

But the crumbling walls and the glimmering canals serve also as a harsh reminder of a reality no one likes to think about, that Venice is sinking and crumbling into the dark green depths of the canals that have made the city so mystic.

At once its creation as well as its demise.

Materials for flood walkways sit ready
for the next flood along many streets.

But the city still receives more visitors than one can count, or perhaps it is because of this, even in early November although it is colder than the rest of Italy.

But even with the lower temperatures everything about this crumbling, sinking city is a dreamers paradise.

As the train nears the city the countryside flowing past suddenly turns to water-a vast plain of water completely surrounding the elevated train tracks and highway.

In the water boats meander by carrying fishermen and crabbers and then, suddenly there will appear an empty boat with it’s owner standing in the endless water. It’s smooth surface barely waist deep. An astonishing sight for an unsuspecting traveler aboard those trains.

And then the buildings appear with arching bridges stretching the cities canals like dainty white fingers adorned in lacy designs.

Even exiting the train station exposes visitors to a lovely sight of beautifully dome-topped buildings, an expansive bridge that seems so tall as to be vying with the surrounding buildings for impressive heights and lapping canals beside the cobblestone streets.

I was warned that the Venice train station was a haven for pickpockets and no wonder, with such a view as a welcome, most visitors wouldn’t notice a living orange elephant the size of a bus in their path unless it blocked their view.

The directions to one of the few hostels in Venice were simple enough although peculiar sounding to those unused to the strange city.

“Exit the train station and turn left,” the directions read. “Continue walking ‘straight’ through a small square and cross a large bridge. Again continue ‘straight’ until you cross a second, much smaller bridge. Directly before you come to the third bridge turn right and cross the small bridge leading to the green door-this is the hostel.”

Thankfully the directions were truly that simple and I was able to find the charming little hostel without any problems.

My first night I explored the city, discovering the oldest of the bridges sprawling across The Grand Canal as well as the infamous Piazza San Marco where I instantly fell in love with the rows of little white lights adorning every single window of the long square.

The next day I wandered the city. Following walks along twisting, turning canals and meandering down ever narrowing alleyways.

I found a small square with a few trees, a collection of pigeons and few tourists and later, a large building with faded green and purple doors that looked as if they were about to crumble from their hinges that turned out to be the cities hospital.

Before returning to my hostel for the evening, I drifted into a square where a man stood, his hand outstretched and covered with dipping, diving, chirping little birds who instantly vanished when the last scrap of birdseed he held was picked up by the last bird...only for them to swarm back down from the nearby trees like bees as soon as he refilled his hand with seeds from the bag he held.

At my hostel I was treated to a lovely night of all-you-can-eat Italian pasta, a made-up drinking game with the others in the hostel and led by two of the girls who worked there and a brisk night walk to the most popular bar in town.

Venice is vacant at night. With no cars and few street lamps the city is so dark one can count the stars shinning between the roofs above. There is no sign of life on the streets and no lights appear from behind shuttered windows. Even ones light footsteps seem to echo over the quiet waters whose even lapping is the only other sound.

Night time Venice is vacant except in one square, the square we were led to that night.

Here the entire town seems to gather, so much so that few can fit in the bars and cafes open along the edges of the square. Instead the people escape the cramped bars to gather in seated circles upon the cobblestones, a beer in their hand talking of the worlds problems or politics or everyday life. The scene much resembles a summer afternoon on a college campus, a strange sight for travels, few of which ever see the large square.

The next morning I was invited to walk the city, explore an unusual gallery and have a picnic lunch with three young men from the hostel.

  

After a picnic of rather sparse poor travelers fair we found ourselves accidentally separated into two groups of two and after searching in vain for the others, me and the young man I found myself with reverted to plan B.

Plan B was a suggestion I had been given the night before by yet another traveler, a three hour, 20 euro, boat ride from Venice to three nearby islands, each revered for a different skill.

The first island, Murano, was known for it’s master glass makers. After a brief performance by one such glass maker we were directed to a showroom, an experience we thought would be boring but turned out to be rather like what I would guess walking through a stained glass window scene to be like.

The second island, Burano, was a fishing town, known for its brightly colored houses and lace makers.

The town reminded me of a miniature Venice with it’s small, wandering streets and its arching bridges. 
The homes, each painted a separate color, were so lovely they reminded me of a living rainbow with a church tower at their center so tilted that it looked as if the slightest gust of wind would blow it to the ground.

And the lace.

The lace outside the tiny shops was so intricate and lovely that one found it hard to comprehend the talent that went into such exquisite designs.

The third island, Torcello, held an ancient church at its center and with twilight falling the distant lights of Venice sparkled like low stars in the darkening sky which seemed to merge with the dark water until it was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended.

That night was Halloween. Something becoming more popular I had been told because of the midwinter masquerade that takes place every year in Venice. The children of Venice however do not knock on the doors of houses for the simple reason that there are none. The citizens of Venice live in small apartments tucked into alleyways above shops and beside churches.

Instead the few children enjoying the holiday visit the stores, wiggling and giggling their way through the crowds of tourists in their tiny devil suits with shopping bags filled with tiny bits of candy.

That night I returned to the bar in the square with two others from the hostel to see what the popular square would look like on such a night as Halloween.

Tonight the square was bursting at the seams.

More people than I thought lived in Venice had arrived, some with painted faces and some in sweeping black gauze. People carried one another on their backs, shouted and laughed and even danced and every few seconds, over the confusion of drunken sounds, came the sharp sound of glass breaking upon the ground.

The college square in summer had become a party so dense that one had to slither their way through the dense crowds leading to the square itself.

We stayed for a time, enjoying the scene and talking of politics and the mysteries of the universe while slight chaos erupted around us before eventually returning to the hostel where I vowed to find the square in the morning to see how it had fared after such a night.

With the touch of daylight the square was quite a different place. Glass no longer shimmered between the cobbles and laundry hung from windows above the now-silent bars. Street vendors dotted the square along with outdoor cafe tables covered with food and vases of flowers.

Quite a contrast from the popular square by night.

I am generally fonder of cities at night but other than the two squares I visited I fell in love with the daytime Venice more than the nighttime one.

The day lite Venice is so lovely that it is easier and also harder to distinguish from a dream than the nighttime one, a dream so distinct that one knows upon stepping out of that train station that this is the one dream of their lives they will never forget.

“Come along Life, take my hand, let’s have an adventure together.”

Appropriate seeming graffiti and
the only English graffiti I saw in the city.

~KrystleLyric

How To Be A Local Or At Least How Not To Be A Tourist

I hate being a tourist. I really do.
But let me explain myself a little more clearly.
I hate being treated like a tourist. Being ignored by some and sought out by others.
Street vendors swarm around you trying to sell worthless babbles and trinkets-the same ones in nearly every city.
Locals and shop owners give tourists a certain, knowing look, recognizing them for what they are from a block away.
I hate only seeing what the other tourists see and never seeing the real city and meeting the real people.
I am horrified when tourists flock to a picturesque house or building and photograph locals tending their gardens, playing with their children or hanging laundry to dry.
This typical tourist behavior smacks me as extremely rude and disrespectful.
Luckily, it is possible to travel and not be a tourist.
It is even possible to hide among the locals, even to be mistaken as one.
And I have figure out a few tricks to succeed in this.
-First, ditch your stuff and dress like a local. Don't swing your large camera around your neck, swing it casually over your shoulder or keep it in a nondescript bag (this also keeps it safer since it's not clunking around and safer from pickpockets if it is not so obviously expensive). Don't wear tourist shirts ('Czech Me Out' in the Czech Republic or other such nonsense...If you have to have one at least wait until you leave the country) or American flags. If they care to pay attention, people can often tell you are foreign from the little things that just don't fit into their culture, you don't have to advertise it. As for ditching your stuff, most train stations have Luggage Rooms if you haven't booked a hostel yet. And hostels do as well. Even if your hostel won't let you into your room until a certain time of day, they understand you don't want to be carrying all that stuff around so they often let you store your bags until check-in time.
-Second, get a grip on where you are and where you're going by grabbing a small map and examine it. I know that most modern day phones have GPS or some kind of mapping app on them but sometimes maps are just too important not to have. Hostels or information centers in or near the train stations almost always have free ones so never pay for one. When I said a small map, I meant small. I fold mine until they are small enough to hide in a pocket or in my hands so I am not standing on the street struggling with a map the size of a shop window. And examining maps can give you a vague sense for the layout of the city which means you won't have to stop and check it on every street corner. Having an idea of what the city looks like can really help with getting around (I often keep the location of the river as the center and when I get lost I head to it, knowing I can find my way back from there).
-Third, walk quickly-don't gawk about-and walk confidently, even if you aren't 100% sure if you are going in the right direction. Just remember that getting slightly lost is an amazing way to discover a new city or new elements to one you already kind of know. Besides, walking at a more normal speed rather than tourist speed means you get to see more while still enjoying the sites and this combined with even perceived confidence means you will be less likely to be stopped by every vendor throughout the city. Just think how often do the local vendors in your city stop you if you are obviously in a hurry, running to the metro or walking to the corner store for a quick snack. Often times they don't, often they can tell you don't have the time and aren't interested.
-Fourth, if you are interested in street vendors, wait until your last day or so in the city to buy from them. For one this gives you the opportunity to check out the competition and see if someone else has something better or for a better price or even in a different color. Also falling into the trap of vendor shopping makes it obvious you are a tourist (how often do you buy key chains of your hometown) so ignoring them until you are about to leave means they are less likely to harass you to buy more the next day.
-Fifth, wear headphones. It may seem odd but if you are travelling alone headphones can end up being more useful to you than half the stuff you have crammed into your pack. A. They keep people fishing for tourists from bothering you (why approach you if you can't hear them) and B. Again, you appear more confident  In a country where few speak English it can get lonely and tiring not knowing what anyone is saying to you so listening to music allows you to feel that you are not so alone.
-Sixth, don't talk. Ok, you can talk but try to use as much of the local language as possible. The locals will most likely recognize a foreign accent before you've finished you're first sentence but it will totally trick other tourists. Also, don't travel in large, obviously touristy groups.
-Seven, yes this deserves a spot all it's own, please for my sanity's sake, don't carry your backpack strapped to your chest-that's just asking to be robbed if you ask me.
So good luck and don't be a dumb tourist!
"Come along Life, take my hand, let's have an adventure together."
~KrystleLyric

Rome, Italy-Walking With The Ancients

The best way to see Italy is by train and the train from La Spezia to Rome is a perfect example.

The train meanders its way through the Italian countryside, past picturesque orange and yellow homes, vineyards thick with fruit and a shinning green sea.

All on it’s long journey to the ancient city in the center of Italy.

Rome.

The city is a city of light and dark.

During the day, tourists flock the streets wearing shorts with heavy cameras bouncing from their necks. Locals dressed for autumn maneuver through the crowds, ignoring even the lines of street vendors.

But at night, Rome bursts open with lights and music streaming from bars quiet during the day and the locals cram the streets outside of them until the early hours of the mornings.

But the oddest thing about Rome, as well as the most beautiful are not the statues or the fountains, the locals or the tourist shops. It is not even the Vatican or the delicious and hidden cafes scattered throughout the city.

No. The most terrible as well as the most wonderful thing about Rome is the ruins.

Evidence of the Roman times appear in the weirdest of places. Strong pillars, crumbling stone and beautiful carved faces peek out from unknown squares, alleyways and from between shopping centers or parking lots.

Although all are beautiful, they all speak to a dark past, a past one can guess at during the day but can almost feel at night.

The best place to sense Rome’s history is, of course, at the foot of the Colosseum and the ruins surrounding it.

During the day guided tours tell terrible tales of days long gone but at night...At night one can practically feel agonized souls looking out from the darkened chambers of the ancient arena.

The rest of the city is as rich with history as the ruins. 

Fountains tell stories of myths and have stories around themselves as well. Fontana di Trevi is rumored to ensure ones future return to Rome if a coin is tossed into it’s depths backwards over ones shoulder.

The city is filled with squares all of which are surrounded by lovely buildings that would be an architect’s dream and fountains that are bound to attract love-struck couples.

The squares are surrounded by tiny and eccentric shops or cafes and filled with street vendors and artists and musicians.

But the best cafes and gelato are to found not in the tourist squares but down the curving little streets.

One such cafe is Pasta Imperiale which offers 5 euro pasta dishes and further down the block there exists a lovely gelato shop with such flavors as fig and almond flavor or my personal favorite chocolate and wine flavor.

But the most beautiful places in all of Rome are not the well know tourist spots. 

A walk along the river is a stunning way to spend a sunlight afternoon, exploring small alleyways leading off from the river can offer astonishing views and L'Isola Tiberina in the center of the river is a perfect place to relax in the shade letting the river drown out the sounds of the city.

Then there is the Pincian Hill garden or park, probably my favorite spot in Rome.

The park balances atop a hill overlooking all of the ancient city, the perfect destination for a lover of Rome.

My first night in Rome I decided to see some of the ruins by the light of the street lamps before seeing them by the light of day.

The moon hung in the sky as if watching the ancient city from afar and the old Roman sights sent chills down my spine.

The next day I explored such places as the Fontana di Trevi, the Spanish Steps and numerous other squares and fountains dotting the city with a girl and boy I had met in a hostel in Florence where we had agreed to met up in a few days in the old roman city.

The following day I made my way to the Vatican. Here, on the last Sunday of every month, tourists may enter this corner of the city and its multiple museums for free.

That day the Pope happened to be speaking before the crowd who had gathered in the large square before the Vatican.

The square was so packed that children sat upon the flagstones playing games while adults prayed awaiting the appearance of the Pope. 

When he entered the square the thousands gathered there sprang to their feet cheering and clapping. Woman clutched rosaries to their chests, men prayed in Latin. The entire crowd sang and crossed their chests and nearly everyone took video with their phones.

The entirety of Rome has a power all of its own, not just the Vatican.

It’s power seems to creep into your skin and infect you with a kind of rawness. The city feels wild and rich and it seems to pull the same senses out of those visiting it.

People seem more confident in Rome, more open to being themselves and not so willing to hide behind self-drawn curtains.

Visitors seem more compelled to break their everyday habits for something out of the ordinary or to follow sudden inspirations or impulses.

And I was not immune.

On my last morning in Rome I fell for the wild richness of the central Italian city and, arriving in a darker, more coarse corner of Rome, followed an impulsive idea that had been stirring in my mind since I had entered the wild city and got my nose pierced.

The ancient city had worked its magic on yet another traveler, granting them the feeling of the wild strength and power within themselves.

The feeling, I think, came from walking a city which was filled with the sense of millions of old lives peeking out around every corner.

It was as if the strength of all those who had visited or dwellled within these city walls could be passed on to Rome’s new travelers, combining and condensing into each traveler willing to open their heart to the feeling.

Rome can grant it’s visitors a confidence of and within themselves if they are only willing to except it.

And that, I think, is the reason people love Rome so dearly, because Rome opens ones heart up.

“Come along Life, take my hand, let’s have an adventure together.”

~KrystleLyric