On the border of Poland and the Czech Republic is the city Cieszyn. It is techinically in both countries. It is Cieszyn on the Polish side and Cesky Tesin on the Czech side. The frontiers of the countries as some of the easiest to cross in Europe. Walk to the corner and show the nice boy in the uniform your passport and he will smile and wave you on. After entering the European Union it is now even easier to cross the border.The city itself is a very charming and smaller version of Vienna in design. Cieszyn is a small city but bustling none the less. The heart of the city is on the Polish side of the border the Czech side is mainly residential. The main industy of the city is sweets. Cookies and candies are made in Cieszyn. There is also dark Polish beer brewed as well. Cieszyn is really a tourist town as it is not far out of the Tatras and their ski resorts. During the communist era this is where the Polish Ski teams would train.
Due to many fires many of the earliest wooden buildings have burned and were replaced by stone building in the 18th century during a Hapsburg rule. The central sqaure is a large and grand area filled during the day with shoppers and stalls.
Cieszyn is also the home of one of Poland's premier film festivals. Surrounded by mountains and on the Otzer River Cieszyn is worth the trip. The etomology of the name Cieszyn is the Polish expression "I'm Happy".
Do you like little old gold rush towns? If you do then you have to go to Washington, California in Nevada county. There is a road that runs off of Highway 20 called Washington Rd and that is the road to Washington. The town itself was founded in 1849 by a group of miners from Indiana who were looking for gold along the Yuba River. There is still a portal to an old mine in town. The town itself is a one street town with a fire station, a church, a general store, hotel with a bar and a restaurant.
The Washington Hotel is the largest building in town and really the center of activity. There is a room upstairs that is supposed to be haunted by the ghost of a prostitute. The proprietor who showed us around claimed there was a scent of lavender when Callie the ghost was in the room. There was a scent was it Callie or the Glade Plug-in is debatable.
The Yuba river passes through town. This is where the miner's started their quest for gold. They eventually moved into mines and then a Chinatown popped up a few years later to house the Chinese mine laborers. The old Chinatown is not very intact but it is behind a miner's cemetery.
There is still gold to be found in the river and not too long ago a large chunk of gold was found in some one's yard.
Go to Washington and maybe you'll find gold or a ghost!
Every tourist who visits San Francisco knows of Lombard Street. One of the most photographed streets in the world is renowned as San Francisco's crookedest street. Well it isn't! It may be pretty and have some lovely gardens but it is not the crookedest street in San Francisco. Tucked away in a residential neighborhood rarely visited by tourists and locals for that matter is Vermont Street, San Francisco's truly crookedest street. Vermont Street is in the Potrero Hill neighborhood. What you have never heard of Potrero Hill; well that is just how the locals like it! Vermont Street and Potrero Hill are tucked away on the eastern side of the city and graced with beautiful views and something almost unheard of, sunshine. Potrero means pasture in Spanish and for many years that is what it was. Another old name for the neighborhood is Goat Hill as it was a goat pasture originally owned by the de Haro family. Potrero Hill was mainly a working class neighborhood undiscovered by developers and real estate speculators until the 1990's. The north/south streets in the neighborhood have state names ie: Texas, Missouri, Rhode Island and Mississippi while the east/west streets are number names.
On the western side of the neighborhood is a park running up a steep hill from the 101 freeway to Vermont street is a park called Mckinley Park. The edge of the park is Vermont Street the true crookedest street. There has been a long debate as to which street Vermont or Lombard is the crookedest. An engineering study was done and it was determined that the sinuosity of Vermont is more than that of Lombard. Lombard has its tourists but Vermont has its locals who actually use the street to get off the hill. One of the few celebrations of the street is the Big Wheel Race.
If you are travelling to San Francisco go and see Vermont Street but just don't tell anyone!
Jo Napot Kivanok is Hello in Magyar. Magyarorszag is them name of the country in Hungarian. The capital and main city of Hungary is Budapest. Hungarians aren't western Europeans and the aren't eastern either they are Magyar. The Magyar have shared the Carpathian Basin for millennium with the (Cgnyie) or the Roma aka the Gypsies. The Romans have been there, the Persians have been there, the Turks have been there, the Austrians have been there, the Germans have been there and finally the Soviets were there and they all tried to control the Magyar but they never could. Hungarians will claim to do what they are told but that is not true. They will do what they think is right. They are usually correct. Hungary used to be larger but in the 20th century during both World War I and World War II they just capitulated. They more or less said sure to the German's and the Italian's. They didn't help them mind you but because of those two wars, and being sort of on the losing side both times, Hungary lost a lot of territory. Parts of Slovakia and Monrovia are truly Hungarian as is Transylvania, now part of Romania.
Budapest is millennium old and there are signs of it throughout the city. Budapest (pronounced budapesh-t) is actually an amalgamation of two cities; Buda and Pest. The two cities separated by the Danube became one in 1873. In the late 1800's and early 1900's Budapest rebuilt it self and modernized. Subways, Grand avenues and a semi-circular grid were part of the grand urban European development plans common in the era. Budapest was a world class city and a cultural powerhouse for centuries. Budapest gave Paris a run for it's money.
The Budapest of today is not your grandfather's Budapest. It is a modern city with a thriving economy, comparatively, in Europe. The arts scene is as vibrant today as it was during Bartok Bela's time. Hungarian's say their names surname first. So it is Lizst Franz, Gabor Zsa Zsa...
The language also sets Hungary apart from the rest of Europe. It is neither Germanic, Romance or Slavic based. Magyar is closer to Finnish and Korean in its roots. A very complicated language that if a traveller tries to use Hungarian's take them to heart. Russian was required in schools during Soviet rule. English was a language that had to be requested to study. It was a very popular request. Most educated Hungarian's can and will speak a smidge of English and can't wait to use it. Especially in a bar. Budapest has bars everywhere. Apartments are generally not conducive for entertaining so bars and coffee houses are the centers of socializing. There are also the Baths. Budapest is built on a series of hot springs and since the times of the Pasha, 1,500 years ago there have been spas and Baths in Budapest. Night life is vibrant and always evolving.
Budapest and Hungary are a must see when doing Europe circut. Cheaper and more fun than most European cities Budapest is a treat to all the senses. Eat on the street and drink in the beer bars and remember to say Köszönöm szépen or Thank You.
Are you going on a trip and looking for an interesting place to stay? Have you tried Aribnb? What is Aribnb? It is a website with rooms for rent in houses and apartments around the world. The company, based in San Francisco was started by RISD grads in 2007. The basic premise is there are lots of houses and apartments with a room sitting empty and lots of people not interested in staying in a Motel 6 or Holiday Inn.
The company was founded when The Industrial Design Society was holding it's yearly design conference in San Francisco and there just weren't enough rooms to accommodated the attendees. The co-founders had some extra space in their loft and decided to rent it out to conference attendees.
Airbnb's concept is not unlike that of coach surfing but a bit more upmarket. They offer a accommodations running from a futon in a corner to grand houses all over the world. Depending on your needs there will more than likely be a space for you. This isn't five star hostelry it is staying in some one's home.
For the renter it is a bit of extra income and insured for $50,000. For the rentee it is a reasonably priced room that offers a change from a commercial hotel.
Air plane travel is no longer a journey but has become an ordeal. Once and not all that long ago air travel was fun and sometimes a lovely adventure. One dressed properly and behaved with decorum for a flight. Those days unfortunately are no more. Air travel has now become more of a subway in the sky. Upon arriving at the airport one is yelled at by the public address system reminded ad naseum that the white zone is for loading and unloading only. From there it's off to the check-in kiosk where if there is a problem one might find oneself being chastised for not reading the instructions properly by a surly lobby guard/attendant/armed officer. This is all before the real fun begins. Get your documents ready it is now time for the security line. This is where one listens to the other detainees cell phone conversations while waiting behind someone whom after 10 minutes or more of standing in line finally decides it is time to look for their ticket and ID at the guard's podium. Welcome to the wonderful world of the TSA. Now strip down and put everything you have on in grey plastic bins so you can be electronically scanned. I'm sorry you didn't pass; you will need to be patted down. Patting Down is a job reserved by the crabby and unattractive. Now you get to put your shoes, belts and jewelry back on in a crowded walk way. As fluids are verboten by the TSA but luckily one can get a selection of beverages and vittles at any of the shops in the mall area of the airport at a moderately inflated retail price. Once the gate has been located seating is available for most with a lovely view of a Jetway leading to the place where a plane may in some time park. The finally plane arrives dropping off a dazed and relieved looking load of passengers. Once the plane is refueled and tidied boarding can begin. This is done backwards. First and Business classes are given the first invitation to be seated. Then they get to watch every other person pile on. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't the hoi polloi be forced to trudge to the back of the plane first dragging their hopefully overhead bin sized bags with them? First class should then wend their way to their better seats with dedicated toilet, tray table service and complimentary cocktail.
Sit down and meet your flying friends. Most of them will be like you, awed by what they have just gone through. There are some fellow passengers the likes of you have never met before. Isn't humanity fun? As an example I cite my last travel experience. I generally insist on a window seat in the escape aisle. Will I open the emergency door? If this baby has gone down I want out; of course I will! I enjoy the inch or so of extra room assuming I won't actually be lumbered with doing any work. On my outbound flight my row mates consisted of a man in need of a belt extension and a rather aromatic man who thankfully only spoke Spanish. Let us call them President William Howard Taft and Dirty Sanchez. President Taft enjoyed a boxed lunch and an array of carry on snacks. Dirty Sanchez was apparently tired and fell asleep. Using the toilet was out of the question for me. Waking Dirty Sanchez, dozing on my shoulder, and denying President Taft a chew was not in the cards. "No thanks I don't need a beverage." The return trip of course offered a totally different experience. This time I was in the singles mingle row. Unfortunately the singles mingleing were opinionated and usually wrong. Arkansas has no Revolutionary war sites and there are no burials from the 1500's in New York City. A book is a must! Unless your row mate on the make decides to lean upon the arm rest extending her long permed brassy head into your light. The little screen on the seat infront of you with the video map telling you how far you have yet to go is your only friend.
