Malta: Valletta.

Although I was in Sliema, a completely different city, it didn't take that long - a couple hours - to reach Valletta, the capital city, by foot one afternoon. That area of the island is pretty densely populated, and one city blends into the next.

A lot of the pictures from the previous post were from the walk there; here are a few from Valletta itself.

A lot of the churches in Malta are lined with lightbulbs - I never saw them actually lit up, though.

The main shopping street.

Malta. Why? Why not?!?

When my host family asked when I was going to leave Austria and what my next destination was, I just shrugged and said, "I don't know yet." And they burst out laughing and shook their heads and gave me that "oh, you" look that they tend to give me a lot. But it was true - after Austria and before Germany, I had about ten days where I had no particular plans, no one to see, nowhere to be...so I went online and looked up last-minute deals.

And I found Malta! And I thought, "Malta! I've never been there! Hell, I've barely even heard of it." And I booked ten days in a hotel in Malta with roundtrip airfare from Munich, including transfers from the airport to the hotel and back [on STA Travel, which by the way I love, because it has a lot of great deals if you're a student and/or under 26 but sometimes even if you're not].

Okay, I'll admit it - I was pretty lame in Malta. I had a lot of work to do [certainly not complaining about that, though - these days, I always welcome work!] and the travel-weariness continued, so I didn't see nearly as much as I could have. But I went on some runs and long walks, so I still got to see a lot of the area right around me [I was based in Sliema], and I went to a CouchSurfing event, which gave me a taste of the nightlife.

Maybe it was partly because I didn't explore as much as I could have, but I could never quite put my finger on Malta - an acrchipelago in the Meditarranean 57 miles south of Sicily that won its independence from the UK in 1974 - and its culture. It's very southern European / Mediterranean in a lot of ways, but there's still something very different about it, perhaps because of the mix of British and northern African influences. And the language! Maltese is actually related to Arabic, with a heavy sprinkling of words from Romance languages and some English. Cool!

Either way, when I wasn't working, I had a great time - the weather was spring-like [I've been really spoiled this winter...], I tried the rabbit and ravioli and local beer and wine, I met some fun people, I ran along the Mediterranean, I learned a little more about a country I had known next to nothing about... I'd definitely like to go back some time when I have more time and energy to explore more.

The only thing I was kind of disappointed about was the lack of bicycling culture there. I saw a couple of people cycling, but that was it. Malta has the fourth highest automobile density in Europe - so things are really made for cars, not bikes. I had hoped to rent a bike and go around the whole island maybe, but the people I asked about the possibility weren't very encouraging. Sad!

And finally: please no Malteser jokes. They get them all the time, and I don't like malted milk balls. Thank you for your consideration.

A sign about a sign.

Questions in blog posts [watch out, this is going to get meta!].

What do you think about this comic? Let me know in the comments!

Weiz: Austrian prom and baaaaabyyyyyy.

For those of you who don't know [and if you don't...who are you and why are you here?!? just joshin', strangers are welcome here!], I spent my junior year of high school [2001-02] with a host family in Austria. Ten years later, they're probably regretting that decision, because they can't get rid of me. Weddings, the occasional Christmas, if I hear my host mom's making my favorite meal [Kaiserschmarrn!]...I drop by a lot.

This time I had two reasons: the younger of my two host sisters, Ali, was having her Maturaball, which is kind of like prom and graduation mixed together and multiplied by a thousand in terms of awesomeness; and the older one, Michi, had a baby last year! I had to meet my host nephew.

The entrance to Ali's school - the globe and Technikerball sign [she goes to a school with a technical focus] are for the event. A Maturaball [the Matura is the graduation exam in Austria] is like prom in that everyone dresses up fancy [well, I didn't dress up for my prom, but that's a different story] and dances; it's like graduation in that it's an event for the whole family and community, not just the graduates. And it's a thousand times more awesome because they usually decorate the whole school, and sometimes quite elaborately - not just a few streamers and silver balloons in the school gym where earlier that week you were getting hit in the face in dodgeball. They have several different bars [yes, with alcohol - yes, at a school function!] in various classrooms and areas with different kinds of music - in some places DJs and in others live bands. There's a restaurant. And it all goes on until 4 or 5 in the morning.

With Ali [the female graduates usually all wear white dresses - makes me feel like I'm attending several weddings at once] and Michi by the champagne bar. It was getting late by this point - we were all feeling a bit rough!

My host nephew Georg, who, I can say with complete honesty, is one of the most adorable babies I have ever met. I'm very lucky to have so many adorable babies in my life - and the luckiest part of that is that they're all other people's!

Around Weiz: Weizbergkirche, the church at the top of the hill in town. More importantly, right next door to my favorite bar, Luis [the bar's not quite as picturesque, though]. Luis, apparently, is also the only café-type-thing [besides McDonalds] in the entire town with wifi. Guess that concept hasn't really hit small-town Austria yet.

Prague: a post in which there is not a single "Czech" pun.

After I had lost a few pounds and inches, it was off to winter - I mean, Prague. At least Czech food is perfect for cold weather. Mmmmm, goulash and dumplings [pretty sure I didn't keep those pounds and inches off for long...].

Statue on the Charles Bridge.

YES.

And also...why?!?

But mostly...YES.

And also...check out that creepy face in the bottom left of the back window. Not sure what that's about.

Czech National Museum, Wenceslas Square. [The name of the square always makes me think of Hugh Grant and his chauffeur in Love Actually. I'm such a philistine.]

A German member of the Prague CouchSurfing community offered to give me a little tour one afternoon. One of the points of interest was the oldest rotunda church [not sure of the technical name] in Prague and one of the oldest in the country overall.

We went to a cemetery where a lot of rich and/or famous Czech people are buried - some of the graves are really ornate. I asked whether Václav Havel was buried there, thinking to myself, "Yesssss, I may be from the US, but look, I know some things about other countries!" [Never mind that I mostly know him from the passing mention in the musical Rent...] He said, "Well, he probably will be, but he's still alive." Oh. I was slightly embarrassed. He tried to make me feel better by adding, "But I'm sure he won't be alive much longer!" Well...thanks!

A view from near the cemetery.

An art nouveau building, including windows spelling out PRAHA.

Art in the public library, made of books.

With mirrors inside at the top and bottom to make it look as though the books go on forever. Heaven? I think so.

Old Town Square.

As already mentioned, the good CouchSurfing times continued in Prague - besides the personal tour, I met up with a French/German guy and a Brazilian girl to go to karaoke [mostly expats, but a few real Czech people, too] and went to the weekly German conversation meeting. I don't think I'll ever stop loving CS!

In Andalucía, Wisconsin = Timbuktu?

Most of you have already seen me mention this on facebook, but...one day I was out on a bike ride with David, one of our local guides, and when I mentioned where I was from he said, "Oh! You know, here in southern Spain, we use Wisconsin to say that something is very far away."

Example 1 [except imagine it in Spanish]: "Man, he kicked that ball all the way to Wisconsin!"

Example 2: "I don't want to go all the way to that bar - it's in Wisconsin!"

He said they use it because "it sounds funny and it's far away."

I think this is pretty amazing, but I forgot to confirm with a few other Andalucians, and it just seems too awesome to be true - if anyone reading this has heard Wisconsin used this way, in Spain or elsewhere, please do let me know!

Hm, maybe I should ask about it at Language Log...

Antequera: nature [2]!

hike around El Torcal, an area with limestone formations



Spanish ibex!



Majestic!

Antequera: nature [1]!

hike around El Chorro










===

bike ride around...um...another area

Antequera: el año nuevo.

I may not have spent New Year's Eve with old friends, reminiscing about the good old days in accordance with Auld Lang Syne, but I really didn't mind - I was in warm, beautiful Spain, I was doing good things for my body, and new friends are nice, too. [Dear old friends - I still miss you, though, don't think I don't!]

We first considered going out for dinner at another hotel or a restaurant in town, but we soon found out that we should've reserved a long time ago, and besides, it was all very expensive. So we stayed at our hotel for the special New Year's Eve menu there, keeping open the possibility of going out to the bars in town after midnight, which is the earliest the party would be starting, anyway [oh, Spain...you know how I know you're not Wisconsin?]. It was all very exciting, sitting in the same dining room as always, and yet eating things besides grilled vegetables and salmon - and drinking wine! It was like the gods' sweet nectar on the parched [well...wine-parched - we were drinking plenty of water there] deserts of our tongues.

We had each gotten a little tin foil package of twelve grapes with our dinner, so we then carried them over to the TV, where the Spanish equivalent of the Times Square ball was about to go down - grape counting! Once the clock strikes midnight, you have to eat one grape each second for the first twelve seconds - one for each month, I guess. I'm not really sure where/how this tradition started, but we're pretty sure the grape industry had something to do with it.

The idea of one grape per second sounds somewhat doable at first, but if you haven't had a lifetime of practice and there are seeds in the grapes...it's not that doable! By the time I had the first six in - not necessarily entirely swallowed - the twelfth second was fast approaching - so I just stuffed the last six into my mouth all at the same time. I had no other choice - I need that year of good luck! At least I did better than another member of our group, who also stuffed them all in her mouth at once but afterwards spit them all back out in a grape-y mess. We'll see how her year goes!

After the grape excitement, we had a couple more glasses of wine, hung out a little bit with some hotel guests from the Netherlands, and headed to bed around 2 a.m. - not the craziest New Year's Eve of my life, but crazy isn't really necessary for me anymore [oh man, I'm old and boring].

Our group - two Irish women, two English guys, and the stray US American - under the omnipresent hocks of Iberian ham.


===

On January 1st, our usual schedule was eased up a bit [no yoga at 7:30 a.m., whew!] - we went for a reeeeeeally leisurely hike in a beautiful, foggy, forested area before going to a tapas bar in Antequera owned by the brother of one of our Spanish guides. Delicious tapas, desserts, moscatel...absolutely perfect way to spend the first day of the new year.

The nationwide smoking ban claimed its latest victim, Spain, on January 2nd, so we all made sure to appropriately celebrate the last day smoking was allowed in restaurants and bars. And don't worry, I was only posing - although I think I look ultra-classy holding a cigarette [because that's the point, right?], I still prefer healthy lungs to chic-yet-tarred ones.

Antequera: the Sampsons.

The first night in Antequera, Mel drove Ajay and me [that is correct grammar, don't you even start with me!] into town so I could buy some new running shoes. On the way, we drove past a place called Krasty Burger, complete with the likeness of a clown that looked an awful lot like one that some of us might know better as Krusty...but I'm sure that's just a coincidence.

As we were walking around town a little, my shiny new shoes in my hands, we ran into some costumed people advertising Krasty Burger. They looked an awful lot like characters from a show we might know as The Simpsons...but I'm sure that's just a coincidence, too.

Humer and Krasty - you can see Bert in the background.

Losa.

Roaming the streets.

Surrounding and terrorizing the fine citizens of Antequera.

I really wanted to eat there once - just to try it - but I could never find it again. Sad.

Antequera, Spain.

By the end of December 2010, I had been traveling for about nine months. During that time, I didn't have a lot of personal time or space, I wasn't always being as active as I would've liked [weather, work, and other activities got in the way of running], and I certainly wasn't eating particularly healthfully. So when I was figuring out what to do for New Year's, I decided to forego partying all night long with friends somewhere and instead head to Andalucía for a fitness vacation - nine days of doing good things for my body and relaxing.

The location was Antequera, a city of 45,000 between Granada [one of my most favorite cities in the wooooorld] and Málaga.

The white buildings of Antequera. In the background you can see the Peña de los Enamorados, which many people say looks like the face of a sleeping man. According to legend, at some point when the Moors ruled the area, two young star-crossed lovers [from different tribes, or one Muslim and one Christian, or...] were chased up there by the girl's father and his men before jumping off it to their death. Man...I don't get why people get so excited about love. It just seems so dangerous to the health.

The hotel, Finca Eslava [nothing to do with slaves, although the association helped me remember the name], is just outside of town and is well known in the area [and beyond - a lot of athletes from around the world go there to train] for its swimming pool and gym facilities. This is the view from my room, looking toward the gym and pool one evening.

Man, Spain sure is Catholic. Churches all over the place! This was some kind of cloister or something up on a hill, possibly with agave around it [we asked our guide to confirm, and he said, "I don't know...I'd just call that a cactus" - understandable, I wouldn't be able to identify most plants in Wisconsin, either].

More pictures from hikes, bike rides, and so on to come...