Category Archives: Europe
Riga Hostels
There are two hostels in Riga with the name “Riga Hostel” which is confusing. Apparently, some guy named Juan used to work at Riga Hostel and then left and started his own place. He has apparently told all of the websites and his guests that the place changed names and moved locations. I didn’t stay there so I don’t know if it’s true or not, but there was quite a bit of confusion on the Internet about it when I was reading. I am just repeating what I heard at Riga Hostel from one of the employees. So if you’ve booked one of the two of these hostels, make sure you know which one you’re going to.
Irish Gig
I got to Dublin a few days ago and I noticed was that it was pretty much exactly as I’d imagined. The people are Irish in look and lilt. And it’s damned expensive here. The numbers look the same as I’d pay for things in the US in dollars, but 60% more comes out of my bank account when I buy them. The exchange rate to the Euro is 1.57 to 1.
On a whim I decided I’d meander on down to Cork and visit there for a few days before coming back to Dublin to work. I jumped on a bus and headed down there. Boy did I have a time! I’ll write more details later, but here’s a quick recap:
- A local threatened to kill me the next time he saw me because I looked at his girl. But she was the bartender and I was ordering a beer. So I suggested that he might have to buy my drinks the rest of the night. He said he’s permit me to look her way for that purpose alone.
- I kissed the Blarney Stone and caught “the gift of gab.” After hearing that the local teenagers have a habit of breaking in at night and defiling it, I wondered if I didn’t catch something else as well.
- Saw a raging music show that rivaled some of the best I’ve ever been to anywhere. A man in drag, a plastic guitar, Optimus Prime with sunglasses and a drummer who’d never drummed.
Cork is a really great place and I wish I had the time to spend a few months there. But somebody’s got to pay the bills.
Dada – The Restaurant
In Riga there is a restaurant called “Dada” that is based on the surrealist art movement in the early part of the 1900s. Rene Magritte is my favorite Dada-esque artist. He’s the one who made famous the painting of a guy with an apple over his face and the painting of a pipe with the caption “This is not a pipe.” It is, in fact, a representation of a pipe. Dada is basically a movement to create chaos out of order and to do not just the opposite of the expected, but the totally unexpected. So anyway, that’s the backstory of the Dada movement in less than a nutshell. If Steven Hawking can put the Universe in there, I can at least fit the Dada movement in.
The restaurant is an odd duck. The waitresses all create their own uniforms, though this usually means a restaurant t-shirt with a sock taped to it – very un-Dada. When you order food, you order the sauce you want and then you go pick what ingredients you want to put in it. That’s a kind of a cool concept. But look out, they arrange the items from least to most expensive, hoping you’ll fill your bowl up before you cost them too much money. But at about $15 per meal, they can afford it.
So I went to the restaurant and sat down. I was brought a menu and had to ask how to order – nobody had yet explained the above paragraph to me. I ordered the tomato basil and a beer I’d never heard of. When the beer arrived I noticed that I’d accidentally asked for an alcohol-free beer. How very Dada of me. The beer was terrible but the concept was good. I was already spending too much money for the meal and the place wasn’t quite Dada enough for me so I decided to turn it into an experience rather than a dinner.
Then I took my ordering tray and went to get some food. But in typical Dada fashion, I went off the terrace and around the building to go inside. It was a good laugh for me, but I think the fancy pants patrons must have thought I was nuts. I decided to start at the end of the food line – the Dada thing to do – and didn’t have enough room for some of the cheaper stuff. Oh well.
I decided it would be a good idea for me to take notes about the experience so I wouldn’t leave anything out. I wrote in black ink on a black napkin. Very Dada. But now I can’t read it.
The bill arrived in a baby’s shoe. I paid with my largest note, but that was only a 20L (the bill was 8L or about $17 US). But they taught me a lesson about being so Dada. They took 20 or so minutes to come back with my change. When leaving I walked off the platform on the side. The regular entrance to the terrace was mostly blocked anyway so it was kind of necessary. But it was also very Dada.
Sopot, Poland
Sopot is a cool little seaside town near Gdansk. It has been described as the Ibiza of Eastern Europe – by my guidebook at least. And it is somewhat. But I always imagined that Ibiza would be wilder. Granted, you can stay out all night long partying (as I did), but in general it seems much more family oriented.
If Gdansk is a tourist town, Sopot is an amusement park. Everything seems to be plastic and made to be looked at. Side kiosks sell souvineers and lite snacks. Overpriced restaurants feed those willing to trade more money for a place to sit. There are manicured open areas and if you’re wanting a hike, you can pay a few zloty and walk along the world’s longest wooden pier. But it is a very small town with only a few sights and not nearly as historic as Gdansk.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed my time there, but it didn’t live up to its billing. I do recommend taking a day or so if you’re in Gdansk to see the area. If you decide to stay the night, I highly recommend the University Dorms (part of the Trojmiasto system) in the summer. Though the receptionists don’t speak great English, you can muddle through and get a room. They are cheap, clean and recently updated. There are no rooms larger than 2 (that I saw) and each room of 2 shares a bathroom with another room of 2. It was a great break from the dorm style accomodations and just the thing to clean up after watching the sun rise on the beach bar.
Which is what I did. After I got a shower and did some laundry, I went out for dinner and a drink or two. After that I headed to the Copacabanna bar, built in a tent structure right on the beach. It was pretty cool. I guess I got there early because there were only a handful of people sitting, drinking, and dancing. But after a couple of hours the place started to fill up with all the beautiful people in expensive clothes. As beautiful as I was after a shower, I still didn’t have the expensive clothes. The upstairs area I learned was for “veep veep private party stay out” after one trip to the toilet. Despite the fact that I’d been up there all night long, I was barred. Apparently the party started without me. So I did my best Right Said Fred on out of there. No way I’m disco dancing.
I went to another club just down the beach. The door was locked though people were inside partying – more face control. Luckily I was behind a couple of people who it turned out were locals and frequented the bar. Using my awesome Social Engineering skills and just walked in behind them like I belonged there. I grabbed a beer and started talking to the guys I’d followed. They were a couple of Polish brothers; one was an artist, the other a photojournalist. They spoke great English so we just sat there and chatted into the night drinking Sambuca by lighting it on fire, putting out the flame, drinking it, then sucking the gas through a straw 3 times. It makes you very lightheaded.
Next door there was a theater with a small impromptu party going on with some of their artist friends. They were all complaining about the sad state of the world the way I imagine the famous American expats in Paris and Prague would do around the middle of the century. I tried to liven up the mood by grabbing the guitar from the stage and playing as well as I could given my state of sobriety. I was able to put a few chords together and then asked somebody to sing to the chords. It lightened the mood for a moment but then they told me the guy was singing about the sad state of the world.
As the sun came up, I wandered out to the beach, snapped a few shots, and then walked about a mile back to the University Dorms. I’d had a good but exhausting night and morning and needed to get 3-4 good hours of sleep for the 6 hour train ride to Warsaw to meet a friend. Checkout came early and I stumbled back into town to grab some breakfast and coffee.
Overseas Trip Extended
I got an email the other day from my boss asking me if I wouldn’t mind heading to Ireland next week instead of Atlanta. After a few phone calls and spending some money to change plans and make new ones, everything is set. Next week I’ll be working in Ireland. I’m flying over to Dublin tomorrow to get cleaned up (I haven’t shaved in about a month or had a haircut in 2-3 months) and buy some work clothes before Monday.
On Friday I head back to the US….and go straight to Las Vegas for a week of Blackhat and DefCon. These are two of the premiere hacker conventions in the world. I couldn’t be happier!
European Bus Lines
Overnight European bus lines really suck. Imagine an airplane flight with nothing to do, frequent bumps and stops, no food service and with not as nice a toilet. 9 hours of road and trying to sleep in the most awkward positions imaginable left me tired and sore. And I didn’t have anybody sitting next to me so it was slightly better for me than for the others. Trains are the way to go if they go your way.
meanderingwoods 