travel, food and a gypsy soul.
Every night, when the sun has set and your perfectly bronzed and ready to dance, the bus shows up, right in front of the Far Out Beach Club, and loads in all its passengers and takes you up the hill for a night of bar hopping, dancing on tables, and shot games that rattle your brain but wake you up wearing a t-shirt you don’t remember winning.
Read MoreBari to Dubrovnik: We knew getting from Italy to Croatia was going to be a struggle, but we didn't realize that we were attempting to tour Croatia at the very, very end of the season. Or that being out of season meant that everything was actually closed. But, we were about to find out. We took a bus from Naples to Salerno, a train from Salerno to Bari (on the east coast of Italy) and a $100 ferry on Jadrolinija Ferries from Bari, Italy to Dubrovnik, Croatia. Go ahead and say Jadrolinija 5 times fast. The bus and train situation went relatively smoothly. We followed the crowds and the small printer paper on the bus that told us we were headed in the right direction and had to run a little bit to not miss each one, but we made it to Bari with time to spare. A lot of time to spare. When we arrived it was light out so we walked around the town and figured we'd see what Bari had to offer. I don't want to show my ignorance too much here, but it's not a whole lot. We tried to find something to eat for hours, we walked up and down streets that were covered in Gucci and H&M, but not one restaurant. We sat in a park for a bit to catch our breathe and when we finally decided to just eat at the first place we saw, the universe spoke and we came across ANOTHER gyros shop. What is the deal!? Is this the only thing they eat in Europe? Brandon, happy as a clam, ordered his 5 Euros dinner, as I hangerly pouted in the corner and refused to eat another gyros. We continued on walking and finally came across a small chinese restaurant that looked closed, but agreed to serve us. Thankfully two couples soon joined and it felt less like we were about to get murdered.
As we wrapped up dinner, it was already dark and we had no idea where our ferry was leaving from so we walked towards the water, looking for a port. We were really far, but eventually we made it through the entrance, into the lines of the ferry, took the shuttle to the building where we had to get our tickets, a mile away, then back to the boat, and on to the giant ship. I don't think Brandon had ever been on a cruise before, and I've only been on one as a child, where our 5 family members all crammed into a room the size of my closet, with beds that folded down from the wall.This one wasn't much better but it was our home for the night, so there was no sense in complaining. We drank some wine with the guests, I took some sleeping pills and woke up in a different world. B woke me up around 6am, and said we were about 30 minutes from docking, so we went up to the deck and watched the sun rise over Dubrovnik.
So, we're here, but we have no idea where our apartment is. We went and had lunch and stole some wifi but realized we didn't exactly have the address of where we were staying. We had booked an in-law unit with an old couple that were adorable but didn't speak a lick of english. Our maps we're still in Bari and wouldn't load Dubrovnik so we couldn't see the star where we had dropped a pin. I remembered it's general place on the map, and we we're pretty much out of options so I just told Brandon to follow me and started walking in that general direction. Don't ask me how, but I followed my Shami senses and after walking through a small alley way, and up some stairs, through a school, I suddenly noticed we were on our street! Hallelujah. The home we stayed in belonged to an adorable couple, but unfortunately, that was the only good thing about it. We were meant to stay here two nights, but they were doing construction right outside our room, we had no wifi to research or book our next few days, and the sheets..were wet. Like damp, and wouldn't dry. It was hard to sleep and mostly just uncomfortable. So we paid, and bolted.
But not before spending the day walking through the Old City of Dubrovnik. "The 'Pearl of the Adriatic', situated on the Dalmatian coast, became an important Mediterranean sea power from the 13th century onwards. Although severely damaged by an earthquake in 1667, Dubrovnik managed to preserve its beautiful Gothic, Renaissance and Baroque churches, monasteries, palaces and fountains. Damaged again in the 1990s by armed conflict, it is now the focus of a major restoration programme co-ordinated by UNESCO." For us, it was as simple as the fact that we'd filled our hours on the train with season 1 of Game of Thrones, and could not WAIT to walk through King's Landing. We stopped for ice cream, watched an epic sunset, and some crazy people jumping from rocks, and snuck through the old city walls where we had nice dinner before turning in for the night. I remember passing the church where the 'red wedding' from Season 4 was filmed, and having no idea what that meant, but I couldn't wait to find out. I also remember the sandwich sign outside the restaurant that said in huge letter "FREE WIFI" and just underneath in very small type... "just kidding...you might actually have to speak to each other". I love you Dubrovnik, I'll be back.
The year before, for my birthday, I had received a book called Gypset Travel by Julia Chaplin. Among the beautiful pages filled with her travel adventures were inspiration about taking the road less traveled. She spoke of her summers in Montauk, and the way things used to be, before everything was a Instagram opportunity. While planning this trip, it was really important to me to incorporate some of that attitude. As much as I wanted to stand under the eiffel tower, or see the London eye, I also was looking for a little quiet, some clarity, to make sense of it all. That's what I found in Otok Mljet.
We took a Ferry to the island of Mljet, just off the coast of Dubrovnik. The town we were staying in was named Polače, which is also the name of the street. That's right, there's only one. Polače is a village, and a port, in the western part of the northern coast of Mljet. It has just over one hundreds permanent residents. It has a couple of restaurants and cafes, as well as one super market. Well, maybe just a market. We only spent one night here, and one full day, but it was enjoyable. So relaxing. Some moments, I forgot there were another 98 people on the island. We ate dinner at the one restaurant down the street from our house, with the other 5 people who were out that night, as they explained that we were there on the very last night of the season and tomorrow they would be closing until the new year. As luck would have it. Every time we walked past someone we thought, they must all know each other, so they're just wondering who we are. The place we were staying was a families guest house, it had a small patio and an incredible rooftop, I've never seen so many stars in my whole life.
In the morning we walked to the ancient ruins that dominate the village, and hiked through the park until we found what we deemed as our own private beach. The water was so clear, the boats reflections mirrored underneath them. We watched schools of fish swim around, ate our salami sandwiches and took Julia's advice, to get off the beaten path once in a while.
Unfortunately, we couldn't stay in this fantasy forever, and before we knew it it was time to take the ferry back to Dubrovnik and the bus up to Split. Did you know you have to drive through Bosnia to get there? Did you know Bosnia is now called Bosnia and Herzegovina. Me neither. Split was gorgeous, the water was equally clear, and it was also very much a port city. We spent a day at the beach, drank some beers and took long walks around the island. It was hard to imagine that these beach cities that were relatively bare at this time of year, were the same, covered in a sea of people during Yacht Week, just a couple months prior.
From Split we went onto Hvar, and spent a few days in the rain, but somehow it didn't bother me. It was a nice change. I took a solo hike one day, up through the cities small streets, and passed every color door you could imagine. At one point, I found signs leading to the fortress. I met a little girl, dressed head to toe in pink and sparkles and her matching backpack told me she was on her way home from school. As I climbed up the maze of streets, we played a little hide and seek. Every few turns, I'd lose her, and then find her again. Finally, I reached a long stretch of stairs, and she joined me on my walk. She didn't speak a word of english, but she didn't seem to mind. We walked together and she told me - something. Maybe how her day had gone, maybe where she lived, maybe that she didn't understand a word I was saying. But it didn't matter. We walked together, and when we parted ways, she ran back and gave me the biggest hug. I like to think we became good friends.
I reached the top of the mountain, and entered the fortress, just as the storm broke. The clouds parted and I watched the sun set, over a sea of small islands, in Croatia. The world is such a beautiful place.
I'm about to take a large man who fears heights and small spaces on a 20 person plane from Budapest to Rome. Wish us luck! It's Thursday night and it's the first time either of us have traveled via one of these small inter-European airlines. They're very tricky. At first you think you're getting some kind of amazing deal, flying across multiple countries for 11 Euros, but wait, you haven't paid for your bag, or your seat, or the space above your head or below your feet. I'm exaggerating but that is pretty much how it works. By the time you tack on all the taxes and fees associated with your flight, those 11 Euros have multiplied into maybe 60-70 Euros. Still, not a bad deal, but an important travel lesson to learn. Budapest to Rome was our first stint that wasn't attainable by train. Bring on RyanAir Flight FR9417.
I had been to Rome once before, but not in many years and was eager to experience it as an adult, and not an uninterested adolescent being forced on amazing adventures with her family. This one would be quick though. We had to be in Sorrento by Saturday which only really gave us a day and a half to explore a city with an immense amount of history and culture.
Challenge accepted.
When we landed in Rome, there were about 80 college students sitting on the floor of a very small room in the airport, seemingly waiting for whatever we were waiting for; the bus. The next one won't come for an hour so I get in line behind the other 10 people who are also waiting for the one employee to serve them some caffeine. When our bus arrives at the train station it's pretty run down, it's late at night and there are a lot of homeless people and beggers. As someone who started traveling back to Egypt alone at a very young age, I like to think that my intuition for dangerous situations is pretty spot on. So, this is the moment where my ears perk up, I hold on to my passport and wallet a little tighter and I'm very eager to figure out how to get home. We follow the crowd into the parking lot and are standing between a line of taxis and a bus depot. We walk around the train station quickly looking for a schedule, map or something to help guide us to our home for the night. At this point we've been traveling for most of the day, we're tired and we're hungry.
Brandon wants to get food, I want to get home, but we walk across the street and get some Shawarma for dinner. It's funny, only because through the course of this trip - whenever we've had a really hard time finding a place to eat, I've insisted we keep looking and somehow a Shawarma place has appeared out of the heavens like White Castle at the end of Harold and Kumar. Needless to say, I was not amused but agreed, because I wanted to get home. We get food relatively quickly and as we're walking across the street, we see a bus leaving the depot. We walk to it's sign to see when the next one will arrive and realize it's the last bus of the night...and we're stranded. Queue the first travel fight. My sister will attest to this, because we've traveled together before and because she's known me my whole life - if I am yelling at you at the top of my lungs and saying hurtful things, it's just an argument and I don't mean it, and in a few moments it will be over and the issue will be resolved. When you really need to worry, is when I've gone completely silent, not interested in working it out. This was, the quietest cab ride home, in the history of all cab rides.
Tomorrow is a new day.
Our stay in Rome was also pretty unique. We found a room in an apartment through airbnb, where a woman names Mirta hosted guests coming and going. She provided us with towels and hot water and tea, as most airbnb hosts did. But more importantly, she took the time to create a map/itinerary for her guests. On this small, fold-able paper was a city map, stating where the top 10 most visited attractions we're located, in comparison to us. And the schedules of the buses that would take us to each. Backpacking GOLD here people. We were very grateful.
We woke up very early, and went across the street to the Tabac store to buy some bus passes and we were off on our quickest adventure yet. First stop: Foro Romano. One of the favorite parts of this Euro trip was coming across places I had been with my family as a child. There is this unexplainable feeling, deep in your gut, triggered by familiarity in your surroundings that tells you you're getting close to a memory. Not as popular as the Colosseum (but located nearby), some say the Roman Forum is more interesting, and FREE! The Roman Forum is comprised of much of Ancient Rome's most important structures. The interesting part about Rome, much like Athens, is that the ruins are in the center of town. They have been preserved in small sections, and through the years, as industrialization has happened, the city has been build up around them.
After a quick mozzarella and tomato panini, we entered the Colosseum. We opted out of the tour because we were on our own schedule, but often ran into groups standing near by and listening in to catch some historical explanation of what we were witnessing. The massive stone amphitheater was commissioned around A.D. 70-72 by Emperor Vespasian as a gift to the Roman people. When it opened, officially known as a the Flavian Amphitheater, it hosted 100 days of games, including gladiatorial combats and animal fights. After four centuries of active use, the arena fell to neglect, and up until the 18th century it was used as a source of building materials. We walked up an down the maze of entries and exits, exploring each crevasse, and trying to make our way to higher ground to get some sweet touristy pictures for our instagrams. We used Brandon's height as a measure to show how large or small the doorways were. Small love locks and graffiti covering the walls throughout the ground floor. And as we both explored, we'd lose each other and end up running into a familiar face on the other side of a wall. After what seemed like hours of exploring, and hundreds of photos, we made a quick stop in the gift shop, posed with my dads favorite comic 'Asterix', bought out moms some post cards, and followed the crowd up a cobble stone hill. We didn't realize at the time but the Roma Pass we had purchased to enter the Colosseum also granted us access to Palatine Hill, one of seven hills of Rome, and one of the most ancient parts of the cities. It stands 40 meters above the Roman Forum, looking down upon it on one side and Circus Maximus on the other. The Palatine Hill is littered with ruins from ancient palaces and other buildings; among them the Palace of Domitian, House of Augustus, the Temple of Apollo and the Temple of Cybele. At the north-west end of the Palatine Hill are the ruins of the palace of Tiberius, one of the first botanical gardens in Europe. The garden was connected to the Roman Forum via several flights of stairs.
I wish I had a fit bit back then because we must have walked over 10 miles that day. After the Colosseum, we wanted to walk to the Pantheon. According to Google it's a 22 minute walk, about 1.8 km via dei Fori Imperiali. It even looks like a pretty straight line on the map, but I guess that is if you have internet, a smart phone, and straight streets, all of which we were lacking. So, after a very squiggly, round about, way of walking in the completely wrong direction, and a pit stop for the piatto del giorno, and some white wine at Pasta e Pizza, we stumbled into Piazza Navona. Not at all the landmark we were looking for, or thought we were walking towards, but Hey! it was gorgeous. The most important part of traveling is being nimble and adaptive to change. So, we adapted, we walked through the square, admired the fountains, took photos under the piazza signs and even chased a pigeon or two, all while dodging the men aggressively selling selfie sticks and fake Gucci bags. Piazza Navona is built on the site of the Stadium of Domitian, built in the 1st century AD, it houses the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi (fountain of the four rivers) with an Egyptian obelisk in the center. Naturally, I felt right at home.
Knowing that our map was pretty useless at this point, we attempted to follow the signage on the buildings and the people in the street. And we finally found the Pantheon. Being lost, on a hot day, with a pretty bad cold makes for high temperament and exaggerated emotions. Brandon and I had had quite enough of each other at this point, we're tired of being lost, and we're too hot to have a rash conversation. When we reached the Pantheon, we went our separate ways and explored the area on our own.
Initially, I wanted to take this trip alone. 72 days of solo travel, planning and exploring and learning, on my own. I thought it would teach me something about myself that I didn't already know, challenge me in some way, help me to grow and be more self-aware. What I didn't account for, was that traveling with another human being, even your best friend in the entire world, is equally, if not more challenging. You're not just responsible for yourself, you're responsible for another person. The only person in fact, in the entire country, that knows your whereabouts, what your face looks like, and is conscious of your feelings at the time. That is a lot of pressure, and a lot to ask of someone. More often than not, I think I took this for granted. On this day especially, where I actually had to separate myself from my travel partner, I became very aware of how enjoyable it was to have him around. I really loved having someone to share all of these new experiences with, someone to reminisce about the memories with later.
As a sat in the pews of the Pantheon, I closed my eyes and I prayed. I'm definitely not a very religious person, but as a child I traveled a lot with my grandma, one of the most intelligent people that I know, and she taught me that every time you entered a new church, you should bow down onto one knee, touch your forehead and both shoulders in the name of 'le père le fils et le saint d'esprit', and that with your prayer you're allowed one wish. If my grandma said it, it must be true. So I sat, and I prayed, and I used my one wish - please let me find my travel partner, and find my way home.
We did find each other, and although most of our afternoon would be spent still in the heat, lost, wandering around - the moments I will remember about this day are definitely the resolutions over the arguments. I really wanted to see the Fontana di Trevi. I remembered it from my trip back in 2007 and it's grand allure, and I was eager to show Brandon one of my favorite parts of Rome. We were so close to it, we walked and walked and walked, went back and forth through small streets, stumbled upon a marketplace where I bought myself a nice ring, and a snack. And still, we couldn't find it. We walked for what seemed like hours, miles, and around monuments I was sure were not at all important or what we were looking for. Finally we walked through a small alley, stopped to make up over a cup of Gelato (the man knows the way to my heart is through my stomach) and down a large stair case, there it was. La Fontana di Trevi! or Trevi Fountain was designed by Italian architect Nicola Salvi, its the largest Baroque fountain in the city and one of the most famous fountains in the world. Unfortunately, on this particular day, it was under construction, completed draped off and unattainable by the public. The city had built a bridge you could traverse to see a small portion of it that had not yet been covered, and there were thousands of people in line to see that small square. Welp, ya win some you lose some. On to the next.
We had a wonderful Italian dinner together. Prosciutto pizza, a calzone, beer, limoncello and a small patio overlooking the moon. Our waiter made a nice joke about us needing a table for 3 because Brandon was going to eat enough for two, and we countered asking if he was planning to join us. We passed by a few bars, thought about partying, but since I was still pretty sick, we headed home to rest up for our day at the Vatican.
Our train to Naples wasn't until 4:30pm so we had one more morning to explore Rome. Feeling like we had the bus system down to a science, we hit the tabac store, bought a pack of tickets to last us the rest of the day and headed towards the Vatican feeling like we could take on the world. Two buses later, we were stranded on a tall hill, with gorgeous views of the city, but at what seemed the be the end of the line and the only buses that were coming past us, we're headed in the direction we came from. Shucks. Don't panic, don't panic. Take some photos from this epic lookout, and start walking. We finally got on the right bus and we're dropped off just outside the Vatican city walls. Ah, something familiar. I remembered from my previous trip that all the fountains in the street had clean water coming from within the Vatican so we drank, cleaned our hands and walked through quiet streets up into the Vatican City. Absolute chaos.
Brandon, hold my hand, I'm serious. Get a sandwich, we have to get inside. Cross the street, don't get hit. Watch out for that bus! Vatican City, officially the Vatican City State is a walled in enclave within the city of Rome. With an area of approximately 110 acres, and a population of 842, it is the smallest internationally recognized independent state in the world by both area and population.
I entered Saint Peter's Square feeling pretty confident, since I had been before and even knew a bit of the history behind it. I showed Brandon the Obelisk in the center of the square and even made him stand on the dials
on the ground where all of the 4 rows of columns around the square magically form into one line. Ha! So cool. I know things. My confidence quickly dwindled after we saw the line to get in, and once we reached the front of it, the security guard told me I wouldn't be able to enter because I was wearing shorts.
Really Stephanie? Shorts, on the day you're entering the Vatican. This isn't your first Rodeo, it's not your first time traveling, it's not even your first time in this particular tourist attraction. The ultimate rookie move. As I bowed my head in defeat, and forcefully convinced Brandon that he should still go in, because it's an incredible thing to see and because I've been it before, I turned around and started walking back to the Obelisk where we planned to meet a couple hours later. As I was about half way there, a gentleman approached me and just as I prepared to shoo him away, he offered me a silk scarf for 5 Euros. Did I need a silk scarf for 5 Euros? Absolutely not, but could I use this scarf as a makeshift maxi skirt and swindle my way back into the Basilica? Now, we're talking.
After a few rounds of statues and some epic stained glass in Saint Peter's Basilica, I spotted the only 6'5 Jamaican in the place, and scurried up behind him in an effort to scare the crap out of him as he wondered who in Rome could be poking his butt. It's just me, B. Don't worry. We toured the Basilica together, fascinated by all the painted ceilings and lifelike statues. Designed by Donato Bramante, Michaelangelo, Carlo Maderno, and Gian Lorenzo Bernini, St. Peter's is the most renowned work of Renaissance architecture, and remains one of the two largest churches in the world. Now, I will admit, reluctantly, that for the majority of the time we were in Saint Peter's Basilica, we we're wondering if we were in the Sistine Chapel. Dang tourists.
As we exited the Basilica, we decided to see what the other extremely long lines were leading to, and one in particular caught my eye, as I remembered standing in it last time I was there but turning back after 3 hours of not moving. We determined it was the line for the St. Peters Dome, designed by Michaelangelo. Please, oh please Brandon. Can we? We checked our timing and decided to try and make it, little did we know what we were in for. We climbed what seemed like a million stairs, as my "skirt" flailed behind me, we lapped tourist after tourist as we we're in a rush, and they were slow. Brandon crouched through doorways that were too small, stairways that were too tight, and as we got higher, it got hotter. Finally, we entered the Dome, and it was 100% worth it. The frescos on the wall were unlike anything I've ever seen. We could see down into the portion of the basilica that we had explored earlier and it all became a little more real. It was gorgeous. We exited onto the roof and realized there was more to be seen. You could climb around the top of the dome to a much smaller dome, and see views of all of Vatican City, hell, all of rome. Although I knew he was scared, of the height and of the small spaces and I was too at this point, Brandon agreed to the adventure and we continued onward and upward. We got stuck behind crowds of people all headed to the same small place, through the same small stairwells, and we all suffered, together. Don't panic, don't panic. It's almost over. It wasn't, but we didn't know that, sometimes ignorance really is bliss. We finally made it to the top, took a huge deep breath of air, and took some epic photos of the views in front of us and all was right in the world.
Rome, conquered.
Before we left, I remember Brandon sending me a Buzzfeed article about “20 travel hacks.” Amongst them were the usual: use a glasses case to keep your cords and headphones organized, roll your T-shirts into travel cubes to save space—but one in particular took me by surprise.
It was the last one:
“When you leave a country and head towards a new currency, leave your change with the homeless.”
Duh. Why hadn't I thought of this before?
We were, for the most part, staying within the Eurozone, but we would undoubtedly encounter a country with its own currency. Budapest was the first one.
We arrived at the train station without any Hungarian Forints, no idea where our hostel was located, and—shockingly—no WiFi to figure it all out. We went to the nearest McDonald’s, swindled the lady at the door into letting us use their restrooms, and fought with three or four different kiosks before one accepted our cards.
Eventually, we caught what we believed to be a bus headed in our general direction.
This was the first—of a few times—that I almost got us arrested. Each country has their own rules for checking tickets. In San Francisco, we can use our Clipper card, or pay at the front, or use a transfer, or ask the guy next to us. Not all places in the world share this understanding.
As the officer boarded the bus, I saw him make direct eye contact with me. Maybe it was the giant backpack I shared my small seat with that gave me away. He came right up to me, I handed him my ticket—which didn’t have the proper hole punches, apparently—and he proceeded to yell at me in Hungarian and point toward the door.
I’m still unsure what made him change his mind. Either he was feeling kind, or I got to my stop before he kicked us out. Either way, I learned quickly that not all bus rides are equal.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve had this obsession with the moon.
“La lune, la lune, mammy!” I used to call out as a child, every time we were outside at night.
In middle school, I remember studying the phases of the moon as if it were the most important lesson of all. And over the years, it’s become a sort of “check” in my life. No matter where I am in the world, no matter what situation has been thrown my way, as long as I look up and the moon is there, there is no ego, no pain—just la lune.
When we arrived at our hostel, Full Moon Design Hostel, I felt right at home. It was clean, colorful, and it had a kitchen, laundry, and the most exciting part of all—a club downstairs so we didn’t have to go very far to party. Morrison 2.
We spent our first full day wandering through town, across the Széchenyi Chain Bridge, which spans the Danube between Buda and Pest. We walked up the cobblestone streets, through secret gardens, and up to Fisherman’s Bastion.
There are seven turrets in the fortress to represent the seven Hungarian tribes who founded present-day Hungary in 895. The entrance and balconies are free to roam, and a café on the terrace housed some adorable couples sipping an afternoon espresso or enjoying an early glass of champagne.
Protected by the guild of fishermen during the Middle Ages, the Bastion truly deserves its place atop Buda Castle Hill, with sweeping views of Buda Castle, the Danube riverfront, and the Chain Bridge.
After pretending to be trapped in every tower and nook, we followed the crowd behind the castle, through some dreamy gardens and across some very questionable bridges, and into Budapest Castle. Now I know why they call this place a fortress—it took us longer than I’d like to admit to find our way back down. (In our defense, the elevator was broken, and a lot of the exits were dead ends.)
The next day, we took a walking tour, where we ended up being the only guests—and it rained the whole time. But it made for a pretty magical day in the end. I was feeling a bit under the weather, trying everything not to let a cold ruin the trip.
At the end of a long walk filled with stories of Hungarian history, wars, and revolutions, we finally arrived at the place I’d been waiting for: the thermal baths.
We went to Széchenyi Thermal Bath, the largest medicinal bath in Europe, supplied by two natural hot springs. From the outside, it looks like a baroque palace, but inside, it’s a peaceful retreat for tired travelers and locals alike.
Even in the summer, the baths stay open late—perfect for night swims—and on Saturdays, the place turns into a spa party (yes, really).
On my worst days, I think about this moment. It still brings a smile to my face.
At the back of the swimming pool is another warm pool with 106°F waters. And no matter what time of day, there are always men playing chess in the steaming water. We soaked there for a while, before heading inside to explore the 15 other pools, each with its own vibe, size, and temperature. If you’re feeling bold, you can even try the cold plunge pools. (I wasn’t that brave.)
On our walk home, wet from rain but full from a hearty meal, we passed a few more historical landmarks, then headed to the airport. Brandon was formally introduced to the world of the duty-free shop and the chaotic magic of flying Ryanair.
See you in the morning, Roma.
Full Moon Design Hostel
The only thing I knew about Austria before this trip was that my mom had visited in 1983, and my dad in 1981. Naturally, they had plenty of advice on where to go and what to see—most of which I (lovingly) dismissed as outdated. Sorry, Mom.
But sometimes the universe hands you a golden ticket. About three weeks before takeoff, I agreed to house-sit for a co-worker. While getting the house tour—complete with details on dog food and garage locks—I met two girls my age over dinner. Turns out, they were from Vienna and were road-tripping along the California coast. What are the chances?
We hit it off instantly—roaming San Francisco together, grabbing lunch by the water in Marin County—and before they flew home, they extended an invitation: “If you’re ever in Vienna, come stay with us.” The stars aligned, and I did exactly that.
Since we now had local friends to stay with, and wanted to soak up as much time together as possible, we spent six nights in Vienna—our longest stop of the trip. We arrived on a Monday after a grueling seven-hour bus ride. Melanie, my Viennese friend, was at work, but her roommate welcomed us in and even cooked pasta for dinner. That’s European hospitality at its finest. We found a rose garden to eat our lunch in and wandered around what we later found out to be Museumplatz, a joining of a modern art museums, with a large courtyard equipped with ice cream and funky chairs, perfect for our afternoon nap.
Traveling with your personal trainer has it's advantages, none more than the guilt you feel for not hitting the gym in the morning. While walking through the main street near our apartment, we stumbled upon a gym and told them we had just moved there and wanted to test it out. Free two day pass, and we are the happiest humans! After about two hours of catch up workouts, we found a grocery store, bought some cheese and wine and a baguette the size of my whole leg and headed home for a relaxing movie night.
Day 4 and were ready for action! The girls were off work, and we have a full day of sight seeing ahead! We began the day with a metro ride to Naschmarkt, a.k.a heaven. With over 120 market stands and restaurants, it reminded me a bit of the farmers markets in Paris but even more delicious. Rows upon rows of merchants selling all my favorite things, from olives, to cheese, to ice cream. I even got a house-warming tapestry for my girlfriend Alicia, knowing I would see her in Madrid a few weeks later. After a delicious brunch all together, we walked to Schönbrunn Palace or Schloss Schönbrunn in German where we spent the majority of the day walking the grounds. The palace is the former imperial summer residence, boasting a mere 1,441 rooms. Casual. Naturally, it's one of the most important architectural, cultural and historical monuments in the country. Sculpted gardens, named the Great Parterre, separate Schönbrunn Palace from the Gloriette, a large structure atop a 60-metre high hill, which Maria Theresa decided should be designed to glorify Habsburg power and the Just War. Today it houses a café and an observation deck, and panoramic views of the city. We walked around the palace, took some prom-posed photos on the stairs and talked to all the horses. We even climbed the zig-zag path up the 60-metre hill, pass the zoo and tiergarden, and fountain, all the way to the Gloriette an took some selfies with the rest of the tourists. : ) On the back end of the grounds, are some secret pathways lined with forests to cut the heat, and gorgeous fountains. We could have stayed there forever. But alas, the nightclub awaits!
Before we headed home we made a quick pit-stop to see Vienna's treasured Wien Stephanplatz, and shared a light meal - more sausages! After a long day of sight-seeing we were ready to unwind with out friends. We had a small get-together and played some German drinking games, and sang American rap songs. Made memories of a life-time, and headed out to Ramba Zamba! If there is one thing that crosses language barriers and country lines, it's having some drinks and hitting the dance floor.
We woke up on Sabine's couch the next morning, quite mangled and far from home. We laughed about the fun times, told stories and recaps from the night before and with make-up streaming headed to what can only be considered a metro-of-shame, back to Melanie's apartment.
The following day was slower-paced and magical in its own way. We toured Mirabell Palace, posed (questionably) on lion sculptures, and strolled through tree-covered tunnels that felt like something out of a storybook. A street performer played Somewhere Over the Rainbow on the saxophone, and it struck a chord deep in my chest. Sometimes it’s those small, quiet moments that linger longest.
For our final day, we did something bold. We road-tripped to Salzburg—completely unplanned—to cheer on Melanie in her 10K race. Freedom is the best part of backpacking: the freedom to have no plans, and the freedom to change them on a whim.
We arrived just in time to catch the end of the race, then spent the day wandering this unexpected gem of a city. Fun fact: The Sound of Music was filmed in Salzburg! We crossed a love lock bridge, sampled basil ice cream, and soaked in the charm of a place that hadn’t even been on our itinerary.
Three short days in Munich with so much to see and even more to do. Run fast!
We arrived in Munich midday, with a rough idea of where we were staying and a few lifesaving map screenshots. One of the first lessons you learn while backpacking and relying solely on Wi-Fi: you don’t have any during your transit—or when you land in a new city and need to find your way to your home base. Cue the brilliant travel hack: screenshot your itinerary, train tickets, and walking directions before you lose signal. A tip we learned quickly... and forgot just as fast. Yet somehow, we always made it.
This time, though, we weren't staying in a hostel. We had the joy of crashing with friends of friends—Sven and Sophie. Yes, actual human beings with the most adorably German names ever.
After a bit of confusion over their ETA, which buzzer was theirs, some hotel-hopping to steal Wi-Fi, and an extra helping of schnitzel, we finally climbed the five flights of stairs to their charming Munich apartment. It was a backpacker’s dream—a free stay, yes, but even better: it felt like home.
Their place looked like it was pulled straight from an IKEA catalogue. Every night, they cooked and ate dinner with friends. They gave us tips on where to find a traditional dirndl for Oktoberfest, and made us feel completely welcome. I was one happy girl.
We went to bed early, ready to make the most of the weekend. With only a short time in Munich, we devoted Saturday to exploring the city, saving Sunday for the main event: Oktoberfest.
That morning, we borrowed bikes from the neighbors, and the four of us—Sven, Sophie, Brandon and I—set off on a cycling adventure. After walking our way through Berlin and Prague, biking felt revolutionary. And in Munich, bikes practically have the right of way. Honestly, I still don't know where pedestrians are supposed to walk—most sidewalks are really just bike lanes.
First Stop: Olympiapark
I must admit, Sven and Sophie knew so much about the history of their city, it made me question if I would be an equally awesome tour guide, if someone were to come stay with me in San Francisco. Nonetheless, I was thankful to have them and listened with open ears and a full heart, as we cycled our way through the city. Olympiapark was constructed for the 1972 Summer Olympics. It's located in an area of Munich known as the "Oberwiesenfeld" or "upper meadow-field" which is essentially what we biked through to get to it. My favorite part about the German language is that they simply smush words together, and are not phased by how long they become. I imagine it would make learning the language a bit simpler, since you can basically dissect each word into smaller parts. To this day, Olympiapark serves as a venue for cultural and social events. We rode to the top of the hill (mountain), where Sven pointed out his apartment, as well as the view of the Schwimmhalle, park, pond and communication tower.
From the summit, Sven pointed out landmarks like the Schwimmhalle, the Olympic pond, and Munich’s towering Fernsehturm (communications tower). It's awesome. Each eastern European city seems to have one. They all look a little different, but they all serve the same purpose; helping Stephanie navigate where the heck she is.
After conquering the hill, we agreed on one thing: we deserved a beer. Next stop? The English Garden (Englischer Garten), Munich’s largest public park. And by large, I mean 1,030 acres—bigger than both Hyde Park in London and Central Park in New York City. We biked through lush trees, over rivers, across bridges, and eventually arrived at one of the most iconic spots in the garden: the Chinesischer Turm, or Chinese Tower beer garden.
The beer garden is named for the 18th-century wooden pagoda at its center, originally built in 1790, destroyed during World War II, and later rebuilt. Today, Chinesischer Turm is the second-largest beer garden in Munich, seating over 7,500 people.
We feasted on:
Steckerlfisch (grilled fish on a stick)
Hendl (roast chicken)
Schweinshaxn (roasted pork knuckle—so good)
Obatzda (a spiced cheese delicacy)
Auszogne (fried pastry dough)
Watching Sven and Sophie try to translate the menu to us was hilarious, but if there’s one universal language—it’s food. The pretzels were literally the size of our heads, and the beers? Only €7. And yes, we kept the mugs. (Are you supposed to? Who’s to say.)
Post beer and lunch, Brandon and I continued to explore the city by bike, crossing rivers and bridges to unknown landmarks and finally ending in the center of town for some shopping, and a nap on a large plot of grass. Win.
After lunch and a few beers, Brandon and I continued biking through the city. We crossed more rivers, stumbled upon unmarked landmarks, and eventually found ourselves in the city center. We shopped a little, then collapsed into a sun-soaked nap on a massive grassy field. Bliss.
Sunday came like Christmas morning. Oktoberfest had always been on my bucket list, but I never thought it would happen so soon. And here I was—in Munich, wearing a dirndl, surrounded by good friends, ready to experience it firsthand.
We started the day with a traditional Bavarian breakfast:
Weisswurst (white sausage)
Sweet mustard
Freshly baked pretzels
Weissbier (because beer for breakfast is totally acceptable at Oktoberfest)
We rode our bikes to the festival grounds, wandered the colorful fair, and finally entered the most epic bier tent I’ve ever seen. Inside, it was one big party: we sang, we drank, we ate, and we sang again.
The tent echoed with the German drinking song:
Ein Prosit, ein Prosit
Der Gemütlichkeit!
Ein Prosit, ein Prosit
Der Gemütlichkeit!
Then, the shout:
OANS! ZWOA! DREI! G'SUFFA! (One, two, three—drink!)
I clutched my crumpled-up piece of paper with the phonetic spelling and did my best:
Ayn praw-seet, ayn praw-seet
Dare gay-moot-lich-kite!
As I looked around at Sven, Sophie, Brandon, and the thousands of strangers who somehow felt like family, I thought: Do we really have to leave?
Can’t we just stay a few more days?
But alas, the journey continues. There’s still so much more adventuring to do.
Munich, with your sprawling beer gardens, bike-loving streets, and open-hearted people—you were an absolute dream.
I’ll be back.
Train: $49.50. Metro to hostel: $1.10. Foot massage from your bestie: PRICELESS.
Have I already mentioned how much I love the trains in Europe? There’s something magical about watching the scenery shift every time you glance out the window—fields, forests, cities, then suddenly, you’re somewhere entirely new. Decoding the language of the family in your train cabin? Always makes for a fun game.
I can say with complete certainty: Prague was my favorite city on this entire tour of Europe—and for two simple reasons: the beer and the architecture.
We took a train from Berlin to Prague for about $50, then hopped on the metro to our hostel for just over a dollar. We stayed at Rosemary Hostel, and it was one of our favorite finds—located right across from the metro station and only a few blocks from Old Town Prague.
Even better, we were lucky enough to stay in the rooftop room, complete with a small kitchen, a cozy patio, and large skylights that flooded the room with morning light and the soft sounds of rain at night. It was dreamy.
Although I had planned the first few cities before leaving home, we quickly fell into a rhythm of using the Hostelworld app to book accommodations on the fly. It was a lifesaver—especially when yesterday’s review says, “BED BUGS! DON’T STAY HERE!” Real-time reviews from travelers just like us? Essential.
For the most part, we were lucky. The fellow travelers we met at Rosemary Hostel were kind and welcoming. One night, we even ventured out to Cross Club—an industrial, multi-story nightclub made from nuts, bolts, gears, and (what looked like) old ski lift seats. Trippy and unforgettable.
On our first full day, we wandered through Old Town Prague, getting our bearings and soaking in the charm of every alley and square. At the top of every hour, crowds gather around the famous Astronomical Clock in Old Town Square—and we were no exception.
This 15th-century marvel features:
An astronomical dial, showing the position of the sun and moon
“The Walk of the Apostles,” a mini show every hour
A calendar dial with zodiac medallions
As someone who’s a bit obsessed with the moon and stars, I loved it—especially since it was right next to all the gelato carts. Coincidence? Probably not.
On our second day, just as in Berlin, we opted for a free walking tour and were completely overwhelmed with the beauty in Old Town. Prague is one of the only cities that was not affected by the happenings of WWII, so although most the Eastern European countries we visited were covered in bullet holes and war stories, Prague is perfectly intact. The tall and skinny buildings in the center square of Old Town reminded me a bit of San Francisco.
What blew my mind is that these buildings are so clean, well maintained, and hundreds of years old. The entire city of San Francisco is barely 200 years old and looks much more run down. Some of the buildings are on a less than solid foundation and seem to tilt forward a bit, which gave them a bit of character. We walked through side streets, stopped for coffee and a croissant with our tour group, saw some of the old schools where art had been hidden during the war. Then we happened upon a small synagogue, just before we reached one of Prague's most expensive and bustling shopping streets. Our guide explained that this synagogue has been holding their Saturday service, every single week, since 1280. Talk about creatures of habit. Nothing helps calm my fear of growing old like a synagogue making my mere 25 years on this earth seem irrelevant.
On day three, rain and sore feet guided us to Pivovarský Klub, a hidden gem recommended by a college friend who studied abroad in Prague. With over 240 beers and 6 rotating taps, it’s a beer lover’s dream. Naturally, I started at the top of the list.
We enjoyed homey Czech cuisine and shared a traditional charcuterie board. Because the way to a girl’s heart? Always through good meat and cheese.
Every day, we passed through the same charming alleyways into Old Town and across the iconic Charles Bridge. On our final day, we decided to find Prague Castle. With no real map, we simply crossed the bridge and headed for the highest hill we could see.
The uphill climb through cobblestone streets was no joke, but the view from the top? Worth every step. We explored the castle grounds, wandered through lush gardens, and visited St. Vitus Cathedral (free to enter!), which houses some of the most mesmerizing stained glass windows I’ve ever seen.
It’s funny—when you're backpacking, you usually only spend 3-4 days in a city. But sometimes, that’s enough for a place to feel like home.
On Day 1, you’re wide-eyed and disoriented.
Day 2, things begin to feel familiar.
By Day 3 or 4, you’re giving directions and recommending cafés to fellow travelers.
Then, just like that—you pack your bags and move on.
Sbohem Praha, I'll be back.
Whenever I travel, I make a promise to myself that I will write, I will keep track, I will remember. But as soon as I step foot off the plane I totally lose myself in wanderlust and just want to enjoy every moment as they come. Four days in Berlin, and no idea where to start.
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