On the Road ... Tour de France

More from the Emerald Isle 

My apologies ... I badly understated Ireland's beauty and charm in my previous post.

You must forgive me, though, because I had no idea what I had yet to see.

On Wednesday, we took a drive around the Dingle Peninsula -- on the southwestern coast of Ireland -- and its beauty humbled me.

From still-standing beehive homes used by inhabitants of Ireland from prehistory until the 1200s to the sandy beaches that make photographers drool, this area seems to have "the most beautiful thing I've seen" around seemingly every corner.

The highlight of the roughly 20-mile drive was Slea Head, a spot where Ireland dramatically meets the Atlantic Ocean and one of the main backdrops for the movie "Ryan's Daughter." I haven’t seen that movie, but it guarantees to be easy on the eyes if nothing else.

To get to Slea Head, we drove through about 10 miles of roads that were called "two-lane" only in theory. As tight as the roads were leading into Dingle -- and those forced two passing cars to scrape the brush on either side of the road -- those going around the peninsula truly are one-lane roads that permit traffic going in both directions.

Luckily, most people opt to make the drive going in the same direction as we were and local traffic is rare. But when an oncoming car happened to be headed our way, we usually had two choices -- drive off a 100-foot cliff into the Atlantic or simply wait as the other driver veered off into a driveway or ditch. Believe it or not, tour buses actually attempt to maneuver this stretch of road.

It's hard to blame them.

The views are epic and seem ripped from the pages of National Geographic. Sheep graze on centuries-old farmland penned in by fences built so long ago the brush has at least tripled the original height and width of the fence. Sheer cliffs fall into the ocean created by millions of years of waves pounding against them and leaving short stretches of sandy coves that appear totally undisturbed by human meddling as the greenery runs right up to the sand. You get the feeling that you are the first person to set eyes on them.

Of course, these areas are hardly undiscovered. Hundreds of people spend their entire lives just a few feet away and hundreds of thousands of tourists flock to this region every year. It’s nature’s ability to retain its beauty that is part of what makes it so wonderful.

Slea Head is an area that incorporates all of those elements.

Making a left turn into the parking lot right in front of a flock of sheep, we then battled heavy wind and light rain to walk about 200 feet down to the 100-yard long beach. A father and his 12-year-old son were just getting ready to ignore the no-swimming signs and jump into the choppy water.

We were content to just admire the way land and sea met.

We then hiked up 500 feet to the top of Slea Head where we could see miles of coast and various islands.

Even as lifelong Californians who have seen thousands of miles of coastline, these views were among the most impressive I've seen.

posted by FreeSanJose at 12:12 PM

Ireland redux 

The last time I wrote about the Irish I was working on an absurd lack of sleep.

Now that I've returned with my wits far more about me, I'm proud to report that the Irish are, by and large, a wonderful people that happen to live in one of the most beautiful places in the world.

We've spent the last three days here and I don't think I have a complaint, well, other than the country's serious lack of true two-lane roads. We drove from Dublin, which is on the island's east coast, to Dingle on the west coast on Monday and only about half of the way was on roads that could comfortably fit two cars going in opposite directions. But less-than-desirable driving conditions are hardly unique to Ireland -- as I learned during a recent drive through the streets of Valencia, Spain.

Still, the inconvenient roads were well worth it, especially since I wasn't doing the driving. Although Dublin is truly one of Europe's must-experience cities, it isn't exactly what I had dreamed about when I thought of visiting Ireland -- it's a city, a charming one, but not all that unlike Europe's other metropolises.

I wanted stone fences that penned in sheep grazing in green pastures, dramatic cliffs that fell into the ocean and pubs that pour the tasties pints of Guinness in the world.

The Dingle Peninsula is where one finds such images of Ireland.

We spent the last three days hiking through the greenest hills and drinking the smoothest pints.

I've even managed to keep up with the World Cup. France kept my slim hopes of winning the office pool alive by beating Spain in the Round of 16.

At night, many of the local pubs are alive with musicians playing until closing hour. Most of the ones I heard were much better than I had expected they would be as they stick to pretty standard Irish fare. Record companies won't be sweeping into town anytime soon, but these guys know their audiences and stay well within themselves.

Despite being a town heavily trafficked by tourists, the locals seemed happy to greet us with smiles and, at least outwardly, welcomed outsiders to discover how beautiful the place they call home is. But in a town of 4,000 people and 53 liquor licenses, who wouldn't be happy.

posted by FreeSanJose at 1:38 PM

Sand, sunbathers and soccer 

Before I get too far into my point, let me just first offer this disclaimer: Here in Spain the Internet is not nearly as widely available as it has been in both Europe and the Netherlands. As a result, I´ve had to use Spanish cybercafes instead of my own personal computer. That has forced me to use strange computers that have slightly different keyboards, which in turn cause some odd marks in my blogs. So bear with me until I am able to use my own computer.

Now, to my point...

A few days ago I wrote about how I was surprised at the lack of passion the Spanish showed for their national soccer team. I later learned that part of the reason for their behavior was because I was in the Catalonya region, a part of Spain that makes Quebec look like a ultra-nationalist region of Canada. I was hoping to get a better picture of how the Spaniards felt about their team when I visited Valencia.

Unsurprisingly, I learned that the Spaniards have plenty of passion to spare.

Even though Spain was essentially playing a meaningless game -- since it had already won its World Cup group -- and was facing uninspiring Saudi Arabia, I was impressed to find thousands of young Valencians gathered at Malvarossa Beach to watch their team on a big screen that was set up right in the sand.

The crowd was admittedly a little restrained and many of them seemed to be there mainly for socializing purposes, but still, I can´t imagine anything like that happening in the United States.

While I have still yet to witness any of the debauchery one of my colleagues encouraged me to unearth, there were definitely good-looking girls in bikinis and some of them didn´t bother wearing the top half -- this is Spain afterall.

Most of the crowd headed for the water at halftime, but the vast majority returned for the second half. Amazingly, they all seemed to have impeccable timing.

But more on topless sunbathing...

It´s a very interesting phenomana, and I don´t mean that in a perverted way. I´ve been here three times, and each time I´m left wondering what the mindset of one of these people is. Obviously, the very young have no problem running around naked on the beach -- that´s no different than how it is in our country -- but somewhere around 6 or 7, they turn considerably more shy. It is almost unheard of for anyone between the ages of 7 and 16 to be found on the beach topless, at least in my experience. But then girls start losing them around 17 or 18 until they are in their 30s when a woman is almost as likely to wear a top as she is not -- and that continues, apparently, until the day they die or at least stop going to the beach.

My curiosity has to do with what is the deciding factor for these girls/women? On this, I really don´t have an answer. My wife seems to think that the company they keep is one of the bigger factors -- i.e. is she there with a new boyfriend, other topless women or her parents. Obviously, her concern with a tanline is probably the ultimate driving factor.

One of these days, I will get around to sharing my thoughts on this continent´s unmatched coffee.

posted by FreeSanJose at 10:20 AM

I love the Mediterranean 

After a week of sleeping in countries in which I didn´t understand almost any of the local language, coming to Spain is a relief.

Not that I´m fluent, but three years of high school Spanish and being married to a woman who is a fluent speaker has at least gives me the comfort of knowing when someone really doesn´t like me.

Believe it or not, that can become a major issue in places like Amsterdam. While the Dutch seem to be a relatively polite culture, they don´t seem to care much for tourists -- to the point that they are almost entirely indifferent toward your existence. Of course, they´ll accept your money, but not one time during my week in Amsterdam did a waiter/bartender go out of his/her way to make me feel comfortable. I´m not expecting anyone to treat me like a king, but it doesn´t kill to smile once in a while.

Not to badmouth an entire country on the basis of one week in one town, but I was truly alarmed by how much disdain many Dutch seem to have for non-native speakers. It almost seems as if two cultures exist in this nearly universal bilingual culture -- one world for English-speaking tourists and one for Dutch-speaking locals.

Maybe Spain is the same way, but since it´s not such a bilingual culture it doesn´t feel as creepy. While not being able to speak Spanish here can be a serious limitation, I´ve never felt the contempt that I felt in Amsterdam. Maybe I´m being paranoid, but that´s how I felt.

This may also come as a surprise, but after watching Spain´s victory over Tunisia, I got the impression that the Dutch are actually more passionate about at least one thing -- soccer. While the Dutch were going absolutely bonkers for their team´s victory over the Ivory Coast, the Spanish were pretty subdued even though their win also guaranteed them a spot in the next round.

Again, it´s one day in one city, but considering how much of a big deal soccer is here, I would have expected more of a response. To be fair, I´m in a small, rather touristy town called Sitges. Maybe in five days, when I´m in Valencia it will be different.

posted by FreeSanJose at 2:32 PM

I see Orange people 

Orange is everywhere.

It's on shirts, pants and hats; shoes, backpacks and skirts; around people's necks, wrists and heads. Orange is hanging from store fronts, over streets and in practically ever bar window. There are funny-looking orange hats and glasses. One beer company provided bartenders with orange overalls with a devil's tail sticking out the back, another company was handing out orange leis and a local supermarket-chain is giving away a furry little orange ball that can be stuck to any number of things.

The Dutch love this nuclear-brand of orange.

The reason? Orange is the designated color of the Dutch national sports teams. And since soccer is the most popular sport, it would make sense, I guess.

Why orange? Well, that's a little tougher. Apparently it has to do with the coat of arms of the country's founding father, William I of Orange-Nassau. The important thing, though, is that during the World Cup, you can't turn around without seeing it and on days Holland plays, it seems as if everyone between the ages of 8 and 80 is wearing something with orange in it.

Friday was one of those days, and being that I'm hear at least to partially report on what it's like to watch the World Cup in Europe, it only made sense to go to the action.

In this case, that meant crossing the canal that my apartment overlooks -- yeah, it's as nice as it sounds and yes, I know that sounds vain -- to an area called Leidseplein. At the center of this area there are about 10 bars that all feed into a courtyard. Usually, there are hundreds of people ordering dinner and drinks while seated in the center of the square. For once, there was no problem finding a seat at what is normally the dinner rush. Finding a good vantage point to watch the game ... that was an entirely more difficult propostion.

To say the bars were "overflowing" does not do the situation justice. At the more popular spots, orange-clad fans were lined up 10 deep -- not at the bar, mind you, but at the door. While most pedestrians are normally tourists, they hardly have the run of this part of town because the bike-riding and car-driving locals apparently are permanently granted right-of-way. For once, a tourist could walk aside the canal without fear of being run over.

At least that's what I'd imagine. I was, afterall, elbowing my way into position to watch the Dutch take on Ivory Coast, a popular sleeper pick to advance to the elimination round.

I didn't have a clear view of the tv by the time Holland opened the scoring, but I only needed to be within the city limits to figure out what had happened. The roar can only be compared to something you'd expect to hear at a live event. I say this as someone who has watched numerous Super Bowls in Las Vegas casinos -- where nearly everyone watching the game has something even more compelling than national pride to root for, or so I thought.

When Holland went up 2-0 an even louder cheer erupted. Throughout the game chants were started and the energy in the bar ebbed and flowed just as if we were at the game.

The Dutch eventually won 2-1 and clinched a berth in the next round of play with a game still remaining, a significant accomplishment considering they failed to qualify for the 2002 World Cup.

As I write this at 1 a.m., the party is still going on outside. The normally subdued Dutch have been partying like I haven't seen in the week I've been here. Perhaps they just save it up for gameday.

As for the full on debauchery that I've heard about in other parts of Europe, I can't say I've witnessed any of that. It may seem like the Dutch are a pretty wild bunch, but I think they usually leave that to the tourists. If they keep winning, though, that may change.

posted by FreeSanJose at 2:46 PM

Busting stereotypes 

I've been to Europe three times (four if you consider the Middle East part of Europe), but everytime I visit, I am amazed by everything from the food to the people.

Take our all too brief time in Germany. Most of what I've read about German cuisine is that it is usually unpopular among both Americans and other Europeans. But one of my travelling companions insisted that we should at least try a real German restaurant. On the suggestion of our hotel front desk clerk, we tried one that was just around the corner from where we were staying.

True to what I'd heard, the menu was entirely in German and I didn't have a clue what anything was. We asked the waiter to just bring us four different plates from the "daily special" list and crossed our fingers (I think that qualifies me for another travellers badge of courage).

At the risk of hyperbole, what he brought out was nothing short of outstanding. Fruit and chicken salad with a curry dressing, a brisket served in a cold vinagrette sauce, a steak salad and some kind meatloaf-style dish. All we hear and read about in the United States in regards to German cooking are things that end in "wurst," and these dishes all showed nuance that all cultures possess, but are easily overlooked. With two rounds of beers and two potatoe sidedishes, our meal came out to about $15 US a person. That made it one of the best "value" meals I've had anywhere in Western Europe.

Considering all the sordid tales about the Germans themselves, I was equally surprised at how nice they were despite having their country invaded by millions of soccer-crazed visitors. Apparently the theme of the World Cup is something like "Do Germany proud," by which they mean to encourage their citizens to be as nice as possible to foreigners. Obviously, I can't speak to how it's been in other parts of the country, but in the Dusseldorf/Gelenkirchen (prounced Gil-sen-kir-shen for those of you that are still interested) area everyone I met went out of their way to be polite — even the one guy I met who obviously didn't care for me.

Without a doubt, the highlight of my trip has been the four or five hours my wife and I spent with two 22-year-old Oberhausen residents we met while on the way to the game (and yes, one of them was a huge David Hasselhoff fan, which shows there is a reason some stereotypes exist). Marcel and Daniel spoke extremely good English (although they say they rarely get to use it) and gave us all kind of insight into Germans' perception of the U.S. and quizzed us about American girls, movies, tv shows, girls, music, spring break and girls all while we watched two World Cup games at the Fan Fest, which itself was a wonderful show of German hospitality. For more on that read my most recent column.

While we're talking stereotypes, I must admit some are true. First, there was Marcel's affinity for David Hasselhoff. Next, I personally witnessed how the Brazilians have gotten their reputation. I was in Amsterdam during their first game, a 1-0 win over Croatia, and they absolutely took over parts of town. Impromptu parades materialized everywhere and scantily clad Brazilian revelers could be found wondering the streets well into the early morning. No other first-week victory has touched off a celebration that compares in any way.

posted by FreeSanJose at 5:03 AM

Sleepy beginnings 

I just earned another travelers badge of courage.

You know, the one you receive for spending the night in an airport/train station. Never heard of it? Well neither had I until my friends and I created these new badges of courage that will, for now on, be awarded to those of the traveling community for accomplishing various tasks. We'll give them out for such things as visiting somewhere that requires a tourist visa, sleeping somewhere that has bed bugs and eating something without really being sure what it is.

But back to my point, we spent our first night in Europe trying to sleep in the Dublin airport. When you consider that we only got about one hour of sleep the night before we left, another two hours or so on the plane ride and managed to squeeze out another hour or so in a park, we are currently working on about five or six hours worth of sleep over the past three days.

Good times, but at least I can count on that merit badge arriving in the mail anytime now.

Here I go again, throwing myself a pity party. I really hope I'm not coming off as some thin-skilled complainer. Really, I'm enjoying myself regardless of the circumstances.

Even though we spent our first day in Europe in a sleep-deprived haze, we made the most out of the 12 or so hours we got to spend in Dublin.

We sat down at Mulligans -- reportedly home of Dublin's best pint of Guinness -- just in time to catch the beginning of the England-Paraguay match, hoping to bear witness to some good ol' fashioned British bashing. As it turned out, though, the surprisingly subdued crowd was a mixture of English fans and oddly indifferent Irishmen. We had been told by our cabdriver most Irish would be rooting for the ABE team -- anyone but England -- since Ireland's team failed to qualify. Maybe it was England's early lead or Paraguay's inability to really pose any kind of challenge, but the only time anyone made much noise was to cheer on England.

The most interesting thing about the game was probably the commercials, one Coke ad in particular. The ad features several sensical, but odd enemies -- a lumberjack and a tree, a cactus and a balloon and a dog and a mailman -- that embrace upon hearing their team score a goal. The kicker, though, is the finale in which a man who is sleeping with his wife, jumps out of bed screaming with joy. It seems a particularly odd commentary until another man -- apparently the wife's lover -- jumps out of the closet prompting the two men to hug. Something tells me we won't be seeing that one in the States anytime soon.

A few other observations on the Irish: I've visited about 10 different European countries and am now convinced that the Irish are easily the most similar to Americans. Just like us, they love bad pop music, they seem to have an affinity for chain stores, their teens are just as rebellious, they seem to have the same questionable taste in clothing and, most importantly, have no problem making fools out of themselves in the name of a bachelor/bachelorette party. That's not to say I didn't like most of the Irish I met. In fact, I found them to be overwhelmingly helpful and genuinely nice. But let's be honest, I was here for 12 hours and had hardly slept. I'm sure I'll be able to report on more of their positive traits once I return to the island in a couple of weeks -- when I'll be better rested.

posted by FreeSanJose at 3:10 PM

It's D-day 

We are leaving for the airport tomorrow around 7 a.m. The mail will arrive about 2 p.m. We have not yet received our tickets.

Simple math will make obvious what has already become clear to me: We will not be receiving our World Cup tickets.

As I said yesterday, this news is hardly shocking. But I have to admit that the news is a little more depressing than I thought it would be. Whether or not I had really lost hope, the stark reality has really begun to set in.

Our European trip will almost certainly not include watching a game in person.

You have all been officially invited to my pity party. The punch bowl will be empty, only cookie crumbs will be left and the pony in the backyard will leave just before you get there. Have fun.

Looking back, I'm not sure I would have changed anything. In many ways, I would rather have taken the chance with it blowing up in my face than just quietly accepted my fate. At least now, we can say that we tried our hardest to get in. While not attempting to purchase these tickets would have put an additional $300-$600 (depending on whether we would have made the trip to Germany anyway), I decided long ago that I could afford to lose that money.

But enough of this ... I'm going to Europe tomorrow.

Whether or not we attend a game, this promises to be one of the most exciting three weeks of my life. People will be going nuts in every town we visit and the energy will be unlike anything I have experience. Really, there's nothing to feel sorry about.

So wish us luck (hope you don't mind me switching from singular to plural like this) and the next time you'll hear from me, I'll be in Europe.

posted by FreeSanJose at 7:19 PM

Ticket update 

Another day has passed and I am still without tickets. I have no officially moved from hopeful to doubtful that our tickets will ever arrive. I'm still not 100 percent convinced that it was an out-and-out scam, but it still looks like we'll be without World Cup tickets when we leave town on Friday.
I have taken this much easier than my wife, Jeovana. While we both understood the risks inherent in sending money to someone an ocean away, I think she had her heart set on attending a game more than I did. For me, this trip was always about going to Europe first and attending a game second.
What can I say? Snakes on a plane, that's what.
Jeovana, though, seems intent on exacting some revenge on our English "business" partner, regardless of his original intentions. To her, not getting the tickets because of circumstances is only slightly better than not getting them because we have been scammed.
I just hope that he refunds our money if we don't get our tickets.
In other news, I will be drafting No. 4 in our World Cup team draft. By my estimation, that's a pretty solid spot to pick with the Nos. 2 and 3 probably being the worst because of the snaking nature of the draft (I can tell your eyes just glossed over, though, so I'm going to go ahead and end this.)

posted by FreeSanJose at 6:35 PM

My first mistake 

Anyone who read my column and is even a mild follower of the World Cup probably noticed a rather glaring mistake. And just to set the record straight, yes, I know the United States' first game is, in fact, being played in Gelsenkirchen (and I can't prounounce that one either) and not Kaiserslautern, as I had claimed in my column. So, don't worry. I won't accidentally end up about 150 miles north of my intended location. But, no, that does not necessarily improve my chances of getting in. It's now Tuesday and we still haven't received our tickets. That leaves about two days of mail delivery before we will leave town without tickets in hand.

My column in the Herald

posted by FreeSanJose at 5:17 PM