Stonehenge

"In ancient times, hundreds of years before the dawn of history. There lived a strange race of people...the Druids. No one knows who they were, or what they were doing...but their legacy remains...hewn into the living rock of Stonehenge..."
--Spinal Tap



Today I decided that in spite of the numerous recommendations I was given to skip Stonehenge, I couldn't just not get in my car and drive the 45 minutes that it would take to see this amazing spectacle. As far as world famous tourist sights go, this one didn't disappoint. I would put it in the Mount Rushmore/Golden Gate category rather than the Mona Lisa/Liberty Bell category for living up to the hype. As you drive in after miles and miles of open fields and suddenly see this huge rock structure surrounded by hundreds of people, it is impossible not to ask yourself the question: how did the aliens build this thing?

I should tell you that I was quite surprised by the misinformation of the audio tour. While I appreciated their honesty in admitting that nobody really has any clue how the stones got there, they seemed to be a bit delusional about the facts related to this matter. From listening to their propaganda, you would almost think they believed those "myths" about ancient civilizations putting up this monument as some sort of calendar designed for pagan worship. Personally, I think that the "Merlin the Magician" hypothesis holds more credibility. Now I'm not saying that it isn't possible that some Precambrian society learned how to use the Force analogous to Yoda lifting Luke's spaceship out of the Degoba swamp in "Empire Strikes Back." However, I just don't feel that there is enough archeological evidence to support this kind of hypothesis. Let me offer you exhibit A: multiple cow pastures within a few hundred feet of the "slaughter stone." Clearly the aliens who landed here in Europe were relatives (or maybe even the same group) that touched down on Square Butte nearly 5 thousand years ago. Evidence would suggest that they probably used a slightly different type of spacecraft--the trench surrounding the rock structure implies a more conventional "flying saucer" design than the one employed in Montana.

Now I don't want you to get the wrong idea about things. It's not like I'm running around in my flat wearing a Jedi Cloak and wielding a light saber...well, I'm not carrying a light saber....It's just that I think we know enough from documented experiences of UFO sightings and even personal encounters with extra-terrestrials, that to propose any other explanation for this structure seems a little ridiculous. The real question is why they chose this part of England to stage their next invasion, and when do they plan to return? It is likely that we'll never know the answers to these mysteries.

Scotland

After completing my first week of "take," I was out of the hospital by 9am Friday with no weekend commitments. In a moment of spontaneity, I grabbed a few things, hopped in the car, and started following signs pointing to "The North." Before long, I had crossed over Hadrian's Wall and was on my way to Glasgow. This marked the first destination point on my journey through Europe that I would be returning to (aside from London), having visited Scotland extensively in middle school. The funny thing is that I really didn't remember very much from my previous trip, even though it wasn't that long ago (Yes I AM in denial about my age). After checking in to a student dormatory (one of the last available rooms in the city) I explored around the city and formulated a plan for the rest of the weekend.

I got up early Saturday and drove up to the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond, where I had breakfast and hiked around a little. Being in the foothills surrounding some of Scotland's lakes started making me feel a little homesick, since it closely resembled many of my favorite hikes in the Little Belts (yes I'm still eating my heart out about missing the ranch this year). For comic relief, I stopped at the Rob Roy visitor center for some of the most priceless amateur acting around. I'm serious, this was even better than the Ben Franklin Museum in Philly. I felt like I was watching a waterbed commercial or something. Anyway, I pressed on to Stirling where the castle and William Wallace monument could be seen towering above the trees. After touching up on a quick history lesson at the Wallace monument, I went down to the site of the Battle of Sterling Bridge and cued up my iPod to listen to the words of Scotland's Patron Saint (Mel Gibson): "Sons of Scotland! I am William Wallace...And I see a whole army of my country men, here, in defiance of tyranny. You've come to fight as free men, and free men you are. What will you do with that freedom? Will you fight?....Aye, fight and you may die, run, and you'll live... at least for a while. And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willin' to trade all the days, from this day to that, for one chance, JUST ONE CHANCE, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take... OUR FREEDOM!" To round out my tour of Stirling, I went to the statue of Robert the Bruce and sight of the Battle of Bannockburn where Scotland ultimately achieved her independence.

By the time I got to Edinburgh that evening, there were no rooms left in the entire city. For the first time I had to pay the price for the fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants approach to traveling. Fortunately, it was a small price to pay. Just an extra 10 pounds and on hour and a half of driving around aimlessly in a city that would have made a great location for a U2 concert. (Technically the streets DO have names, they just aren't written down on any signs anywhere). The Bed and Breakfast turned out to be 2 blocks from a beach (I went to a public high school so I haven't quite figured out the geography of how that one works out yet). I got to bed early and arrived the next morning at the Royal Museum and the Museum of Scotland for a quick tour before heading back to Oxford.

Wimbledon

(7-8-06)

This afternoon I headed into London in the hopes of catching at least a part of the biggest tennis tournament in the world. I stopped in at the tourist office to ask about my chances of getting in and was told not to bother--tickets were sold out a long time ago and I would have no chance of getting in. Nevertheless, I was so desperate to see a game of live tennis (since until today the only games I had ever been a spectator to were at the XZ ranch) that I hopped on the bus and headed over to the complex. When I arrived, there was a line about a mile long of people waiting to get into the grounds. I hopped in line under the premise that I had once waited in a 4 hour line to spend five minutes looking at a coffin that contained the remains of Ronald Reagan, so I could at least wait an hour and a half to see some of the best tennis ever played. Within 15 minutes, the women's final had just finished, and they were waving me through (since many people were leaving the grounds at this point). As I could hear that the men's doubles final was about to start on court 1, I quickly threw down an extra 13 pounds in order to watch what promised to be the best match of the tournament. I found my seat and was immediately overwhelmed by the excitement of the atmosphere around me. The next thing I noticed was that the Bryan brothers were quite a bit older looking than what I remembered from watching them on TV. To my horror and disappointment, the match I was expecting to see was over in "Centre Court," where I couldn't get access to with my ticket. Instead, I was watching the "Old" Men's Doubles Final. Nevertheless, I still had a blast watching some amazing volleys in the very tournament where Andre Agassi played his last game. As I was watching them, I couldn't help thinking that if I kept working on my serve and made friends with Maria Sharapova, there's no reason I couldn't at least qualify for the 2036 mixed geezer doubles bracket of the tournament. Of course that is assuming I'm not in Pamplona that year running the bulls (since work schedule did not permit that opportunity this go around). After the game I caught the bus back to central London just in time to catch the 22,338th performance of "The Mousetrap." It was an unbelievable show, and I can see why it has been packing in the seats for 54 years--the world's longest run. While I will keep the time honored tradition of not revealing who dunnit, I will tell you that Agatha Christie is a genius--I was way off in my guess.

The English Patients

(7-8-06)

I completed my first week as an "Honorary Registrar" yesterday. The differences between England's NHS and the American health care system are striking. One characteristic common to both countries, however, is the state of financial crisis. I watched a story on the local news channel shortly after arriving in England that described the layoffs that were going on with doctors and nurses throughout the Oxford community. I was impressed by the state of uproar that the community seemed to be in, but would have never guessed that these "redundancies" were going to affect 2 of the 3 Consultants (Attendings) on my service. Unbelievable. I mean the JR seems to be worse off than Wernham Hogg. Although it does not seem to be as difficult as I would have expected to obtain testing for patients, every CT scan and procedure that we order has to be approved by a radiology consultant. The length of waiting times are much greater here than in America, both for surgical procedure and for clinic visits. My first experience in the operating room came on Wednesday, when I participated in a laparoscopic cholecystectomy. Probably the wierdest thing to get used to was walking into the theatre without a mask on. I probably would have felt more comfortable walking around Times Square in my whitey tighties. The funny thing is that after awhile you kind of get to where you actually prefer that unconstricted feeling. Probably the most awkward moment came when the consultant I was working with came around the table and stood next to me. One of my good friends at Hopkins used to tell a story about one of the breast surgeons back home who used to operate that way. He described it as similar to walking into a restaurant and seeing some elderly married couple sitting next to eachother at a booth. It definitely wierded me out a little, particularly because most of my movements required reaching accross the table in order to manipulate a "grasper" that was apparently not made for grasping tissue. In spite of the adjustments, the gallbladder came out pretty easily. As I was preparing to close the skin, they handed me a straight needle--something I hadn't seen since my 8th grade home economics class. But by far the biggest adjustment to working over here is the differences in vocabulary. I've had to resort to putting together my own travel dictionary:
Elevator=Lift
Follow the drain output=Chase the drain output
Cap the bile drain=Spicket the bile drain
I've lost exactly 21 pounds of weight=I've lost a stone and a half
That's a load of crap=That's a load of bollucks
That's the bomb (or "tits" in some places)=That's the dog's bollucks
Electrocautery=Diathermy
Yankeur<>Wanker
Thyroid retractor=Langenbeck retractor
Reinhoff=Clip
Balfour retractor=?????? (still working out the spelling on that one)

Independence Day

(7-4-06)

The Fourth of July has always been one of those holidays where I tend to look back on past years and think about where I am and where I've come from. I think this type of reflection started in 1993, when I celebrated the holiday with 1100 young men and women in Colorado Springs on day 4 of Basic Cadet Training. I remember one of the cadre explaining to us that as members of the armed forces we would have to make sacrifices for our country, and that missing out on having a 4th of July picnic with our families was only the first example of this kind of sacrifice. Ever since then, I've always made a point of taking note of where life has taken me, thanking God for the times when I was fortunate enough to spend the day with my family at the lake or watching fireworks while listening to the Boston Pops. Unfortunately, most years it seems like duty (albiet outside the military) prevails, and I find myself in the hospital taking care of trauma victims. Although this was not my first Independence Day outside the USA, it is certainly the most unique holiday I have ever celebrated in the sense that I am currently behind "enemy" lines. Fortunately, I was able to celebrate with some American friends. I got a last minute notification that Greg Sauer would be in town, and I managed to meet up with him (along with Aaron Akins) in London. We ate at an authentic Lebanese restaurant, complete with music, belly dancing, and hookah pipes. The food was probably the best meal I had since arriving in Europe. It was great to have the chance to spend some quality time reliving select scenes from the movie "Swingers" with a couple of Americans who like me were still feeling a little out of place in the big bad world outside America.

The British Museum

(7-2-06)

Today I caught the shuttle to London with the hopes of getting a chance to watch part of the Wimbledon. I arrived at Victoria station only to discover that there were no matches today. Instead, went up to Hyde park to have lunch. I have to say that despite all the hype, I was a bit disappointed. It was not even comparable to Central Park or even the Boston Common. Nevertheless, it was interesting to note that Henry VIII used to hunt deer there, and like everything in Europe the history attached to the place is clearly the main appeal. After that, I hopped on the tube to check out the Brittish Museum. After viewing the artificacts from Egypt, Greece, Rome, and the rest of Western Europe, I couldn't help wondering how long America's prominence as the epicenter of civilization would last. Lately there seems to be a lot of discussion about our economic prominence being overtaken by Asia, and from what I hear "The World is Flat" is a must read. After spending a few hours reflecting on the entirety of the history of human civilization, I was struck by how small my role would appear to be in this grand design. It was an excellent lesson in the ability of time to wear away any contribution we may make to the world during our lifetime. As a case in point, probably the one human being that gets the most attention in the British Museum is Alexander the Great. As far as I can tell, if you ask most people today what they know about him, they'll tell you that he was gay and played by Collin Ferrel. I'd hate to think what Alexander would have done to Oliver Stone if he was alive today.

Homeward Bound

(6-30-06)
The last day of our trip was almost entirely consumed by traveling. Our train was 2.5 hours late getting from Ljubljana to Budapest, so by the time we arrived I barely had time to grab a quick bite to eat and catch a taxi to the airport. As I near completion of my first tour backpacking through the continent, I feel much more acclimated from when I first arrived. After finding my way around cities with currency that is less than 1/200th of a dollar, where English isn't universally spoken, and where I'm not always sure where I'll lay my head at the end of the day, returning to the comforts of Oxford should be a cinch. In the meantime, I'm already looking forward to my next opportunity to venture out past the English channel again.

Slovenia

(6-28-06)
When we got to Ljubljana around 11:00 yesterday morning, for the first time since arriving in Europe I reached a point where I had no list of things to do, no agenda, and really no plan other than to pick up Jackie in Klagenfurt and find our way back to Lake Bled. Since neither Sam or I had any clue how to navigate around the country, we made obtaining currency and a map our first priority. This turned out to be relatively straightforward--even though I was nearly as far from home as I had ever been in my life, just about everyone spoke English. This was very helpful since we had nothing but a street address from which to locate our car rental. When we finally located the rental car company, we were told that our economy sized vehicle was not available, but for no extra charge we would be given a brand new Euro-station wagon. Perfect for transporting 3 people and all of our luggage. As we made our way north into Austria, we were surrounded by the beauty of the Julian Alps. Even though I spent some of the most formative years of my life living in some of the most beautiful mountains on the planet, I was still amazed by the breath-taking distinctiveness of southern Austria. The occasional church steeples poking out over the landscape were a constant reminder of the history that surrounded us. As we returned to Slovenia after picking up Jackie, I became acutely aware of my good fortune in having 2 travel partners with so much experience. As I handed our passports over to the border patrol, I realized that the two of them had stamps from countries that I had never even heard of. After driving for about an hour through terrain that could have been used for the set of a Peter Jackson movie, we finally arrived in Lake Bled. The first glimpse of the lake with its castle overlooking from a cliff and historic churches on its banks and island were enough to convince me that this was truly one of the most unique and beautiful locations I had ever been to. I am still scratching my head as to why anyone would waste a trip to Europe visiting the Tower of London, the Vatican, or the Eiffel tower and miss out on seeing this unvelieveable sight. Lake Bled is literally one of the world's best kept secrets. Being here gives me a feeling that I have only had a couple of times in my life during trips to the crater in Tanzania or diving in the underground Sinoras in Cancun where you realize that you are taking part in something very special that most people will go through life and never see. Our bed and breakfast overlooked the lake, and after checking in we immediately set out to explore the city. Many gigabytes of memory were wiped out in the space of the first hour taking pictures. We eventually found our way into town, where we stopped for a pizza while watching the France/Spain game. Jackie had a vested interest in the outcome, having just scored tickets to watch the winner take on Brazil back in Germany. On our way back to the Bed and Breakfast, we witnessed a spectacular lightning storm just behind the Bled Castle up on the cliff across the lake. Sam and I slept in a little the next morning, and then the three of us went down to a cafe for breakfast and a cappuccino. We then piled in the car and headed for Bohem. We took a gondola there to the top of one of the ski resorts, where we spent the morning hiking, having lunch at the top of one of the peaks. We then drove back to Bled, where we drove up to the Bled castle overlooking the lake. The views from the top were nothing short of spectacular. After that we hiked along a gorge to a waterfall nearby, which was remniscent of something from Lord of the Rings. We made it back just in time to catch the sun setting over the lake. We enjoyed dinner at a very nice restaurant that was right on the waterfront before turning in for the night. Although we had all fallen in love with Bled to the point that we never wanted to leave, the next morning we decided that with the rest of Slovenia unexplored and another day on our rental car, we really owed it to ourselves to venture out to the south. Before departing, we visited a beautiful church that was perched overlooking the water. The inside walls were covered with a beautiful series of paintings that depicted various elements of the Lord's Prayer. It was pretty money--reminded me a little of the Naval Academy chapel where the stain glass windows all have a maritime theme. We then hopped in the car and set our course for the Predjama castle. This castle was originally built in the 12th century and was constructed directly on top of an elaborate cave system. The building literally merges with the face of a cliff which contains the numerous hidden passages. I don't know if Tolkein ever visited Predjama, but it is inconceivable to me that its legend didn't in some way shape his creation of Helm's Deep. Historically, the castle's most famous inhabitant was Erasmus the loyal follower of Hungarian king Matthias Corviscus, who rebelled against the Austrian Emperor Frederick III. Erasmus withstood a year and a day of attacks against the castele walls before being betrayed by one of his servants, who tipped off the imperial troops by shining a light on the target for the catapults--the room where Erasmus was taking a squat. We returned to Ljubljana after finishing our tour of the castle, only to find that our reservations in the hostel (famous as the sight of a former prison where each room is a cell previously inhabited by an inmate) had been screwed up by the tourism office. Fortunately, there was a 3 bed private room available in a hostel down the street, so we dropped off our things there before setting out to explore the city. We were not disappointed. We climbed to the top of a hill that overlooks the city and wandered around the castle that was built there. After taking some pictures of the sun setting behind the mountains that surrounded the city lights, we climbed back down to the village below, where we had dinner at a Greek restaurant. The city was booming with acivity, with street performers and outdoor seating from the many restaurants that were packed full. It was impossible to confuse this Eastern European flavor with any city I had ever visited before. Eventually, we returned to the hostel to catch a few hours sleep before catching an early morning train back to Budapest.

Venice

(6-27-06)

We arrived in Venice and spent the better part of an hour flailing around with a new currency, a new language, and a new city that mapquest has yet to discover. We eventually found the campground where we dropped off our packs, refilled our water bottles, and embarked on our tour of Venice. We rode the water shuttle along the grand canal before getting off at the Basillica of San Marco. After viewing the beautiful interior (also famous as the number 1 tourist trap in Italy) we got back on the water taxi and had dinner near the beaches of Lido, one of the adjacent islands. Our waiter seemed very distracted throughout the meal, as did the entire restaurant staff. Eventually Italy scored a goal on Australia, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and we got to eat our dinner amidst the symphony of car horns, fireworks, and screaming Itallians. We returned to the square of St. Marcos, where we took the elevator to the top of the tower just in time to catch the sunset. From the top of the tower we could hear 4 seperate orchestras warming up around the square, so we went back down and grabbed a table next to the one playing Con te partiro. After putting down a couple of espressos, we returned to the campground where we found college students from all over the world participating in one huge drunken orgie. We decided to forgo this opportunity to live like a European, and although I'm sure Rick Steves would have been disappointed, the images from studying Sodom and Gomorrah in BSF this past year were a little difficult to erase.

Midnight Train

(6-26-06)

We arrived at the station just in time to board the train leaving for Venice. We were initially assigned to a couchette with 2 other travelers. The first was an American named William. William was from California, but had spent the last year in Alaska after graduating from Harvard (class of '05). He was on his way to meet up with some friends in Rome before heading back to the US, where he was planning a move to DC. Prior to returning, however, he had plans to visit Pamplona for the running of the bulls. Our other bunk-mate was a little Itallian guy named Charles who had been vacationing in Budapest and was on his way back to Milan. As you might expect, it wasn't long before the four of us (at least three of whom had seen "The Sting") decided that it wouldn't be a night train ride if we didn't break out a deck of cards. Charles only understood about 5 words of English, so it took several hands before we were successful in explaining to him that the Queen of spades (or peakes if you will) was worth 13 points. Several hands after that we were successful in communicating to him that points are bad in Hearts. Our game was briefly interrupted by the wind blowing away our discard pile, but Charles was kind enough to donate his 3 gram miniature stick of Old Spice deoderant (fresh from being applied all over his body) to the job, serving as a paper weight.

Before long, everyone was getting pretty sleepy, so Sam and I said arrivederce and snuck into an empty couchette, where we pulled the bunks down and watched the sun set over Hungary's hills and lakes with the wind blowing in our faces. I fell asleep relatively quickly, only to be waken up every couple of hours as we crossed the borders of Croatia and Slovenia on our way to Italy.

Budapest

(6-27-06)


We checked out from the hostel early, grabbed a quick breakfast, and hopped on a bus for St. Stephen's Cathedral (Szent Istvan). This was the largest basillica in Hungary, named for the first Hungarian king to be baptized. He subsequently converted the rest of the country to Christianity "by hook or by crook" before his death. Legend has it that his hand is still preserved in the cathedral in a hyperbaric chamber similar to the one worn by David Decovney in the movie "Zoolander." Unfortunately, public viewing of the hand didn't open until 1330, so we had to forgo witnessing this miracle of taxidermy in order to move on with our tour of the city. We climbed to the top of the Basillica's tower, where we were able to see an excellent view of the entire city. From the tower it was easy to appreciate how the Cathedral had been built in the city's highest point, constructed after a flood wiped out the rest of the city in the mid 1800s, prompting its residents to pray for God to spare them and promising to erect the cathedral if their prayers were answered. We then visited the "liberation" monument, climbing to the top of a hill where the citadel was located across the Danube. The citadel was built in 1849 by the Austrians after defeating the Hungarian rebellion. The freedom statue was built after the communist takeover in the 20th century, during which time the Russian artillery shelled the city for several days from the citadel.

Having the opportunity to visit these sites with Sam (who had previously lived in Budapest for 6 months) was a tremendous enrichment to my experience, even if he did disagree with my claim that the word "Budapest" actually stems from the German word for "a whale's vagina." We had a quick lunch and then visited the Szecseny Furdo Turkish bath house, which was notable for a huge collection of pools which ranged in temperature from Big Trout Lake in April to McDonald's coffee. There were also a number of saunas and steam rooms, and on a cultural note, PDA seems to have been perfected in Hungary (if it wasn't invented here). We ate dinner on Andressi St. where I inhaled a bowl of Hungarian goulash before racing to the train station to catch the evening train to Venice.

The Hostel

(6-24-06)


I arrived late in Budapest and didn't make it over to the hostel until nearly 1 am. My worries about missing the curfew were quickly relieved when I walked in the door and realized that the party was just getting started at Hostel Marco Polo. There were dozens of sketchy looking travelers like myself from all over the world hanging out in the street outside. I checked in and headed up the elevator to the fourth floor where Sam was already unpacking in our room. The accommodations were actually quite good, apart from the fact that there was no air conditioning and it was as hot as an oven. Nevertheless, I can't imagine paying a Forent more to stay in any hotel in the city, since this one was equipped with a private bathroom! Despite the traveling and late arrival, I found that I was so amped to be on the continent that there was no way I was going to be able to sleep. Therefore, Sam and I set out for the city, where a nearby Pagan Summer Solstice festival was attracting a crowd of young people to the Magyar Nemzeti art museum. Out in the courtyard of the museum, people were gathered around watching some performers juggle fire. I looked at Sam and said, "I can't believe we're in Europe watching some dudes throwing around fire at a pagan festival." It was unbelievable. After getting our fill of the gymnastics and fire-eating performers, we grabbed some ice cream at the local coffee shop and headed back to the hostel.