Grand European Adventure in pictures

Personally, I had no idea I'd taken so many photos. Granted, it's been more than a week and a half for me of traveling through Europe and seeing as my experience took me all around Europe, there were bound to be a great quantity of photo moments. But nearly 2,000? I certainly couldn't have called that. And even once widdled down to a manageable number, I have been able to compile a scrapbook of just under 200 photos, looking back at every single image in the process of choosing the most universally attractive photos has allowed me to relive an experience that (despite happening as recently as today) feels miles and ages away from when and where I am now.

After traveling through an extensive maze to navigate to the underground and the overground trains in Roma, all just to make it in time for a flight back to the UK, I am exhausted. And after searching through all my photos from the trip, I'm even more tired.

So here are just a few of my favorite photos that I took while in Europe this past week and a half:

According to Denise, there was a festival for the release of the new annual Christmas beer in København the day I arrived. Couldn't find it, but did see this lovely collection of unopened cans.

The most well-known monument of København is the state of Den Lille Havfrue. She's surrounded by tourists taking photos, including this guy (and me, as it just so happens).

 Still in København, we hang out on the body of water separating the royal residence from the København Opera House. This little dog in the photo was so hyperactive that it followed bikes everywhere and did hand stands.

Onto München. While I was disappointed in the biergartens being closed during the winter season, I found the setup of the unused garten very gorgeous.

Later, I climbed to the top of Peterskirche, which boasts some spectacular views of München. Though I was wiped by the end of the climb, it was worth the slightly aching limbs.

I will refrain from sharing many photos from Dachau, but I think this one is pretty interesting - it contains preserved barbed wire from decades ago that was used to keep inmates within the confines of the camp.

Back into the city center is the Viktualienmarkt with fresh produce and other random artisinal foods (some made by an angry farmer's market man).

Not long after, I was on my way to Wien, where my friend Dom showed me around quite a few places and through back alleys that were just gorgeous.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart...in no way underrepresented in Wien.

Following the Mozart craze, however, was my exit from Wien and my entrance into Roma. As you may or may not know, the drivers in Italy move way too quickly and don't look for pedestrians. But their fast moving vehicles make for good photographs.

In trying to get situated with Italian culture, I found myself exploring a market just off the beaten path near the Protestant Cemetery. There were kitschy items, food items, a small bookstore, etc.

And just to cap off this little insight into my time in Europe, this is a photo that I believe wraps up some difficult to convey emotions that were inspired by every stop along my European adventure. There's the warmth of street lamps, the classic looking buildings, etc. The feeling of history.

At this point, I've had to wish Europe a fond farewell. Starting a few hours ago when I left the city of Roma, I've lamented at not being allowed back in (unless I were to buy another plane or train ticket).





Yet returning to the UK was one of the most extraordinary and comforting feelings of my life. And when I really think about it, for the time being these photos are enough. Europe is a great continent to visit, but that doesn't mean we have to cry over it. We should rejoice in its photogenic beauty.

And that we shall.

European highlights, a retrospective

In several hours this long awaited and long lasting European adventure will be over. From the screen of my laptop computer weeks ago to the experience of actually being here, in the thick of things, now, the continent has become something special to me, more closely tied to things like the Roma Termini train station or other means of connecting the city with the rest of the world.

The rest of the world. It becomes a focus only because I rest reasonably far away from general civilization. When you actively choose to visit a graveyard, you also inactively choose not to visit anywhere else of historical significance during that time.

But in the interest of sharing a series of some of the most fascinating stops while I've traveled through Europe the past week, I'll explain why stopping by the Protestant Cemetery in Roma was worth being alienated briefly from the rest of the world.

Protestant Cemetery, Roma

I don't know whether or not my decision to come to Roma was more based off of a livelong fascination with the city (which I can attest for the existence of these many many years), or a more recent fascination with the life of John Keats.

Would it be fair to say that my reasoning is a bit of both? Going to the burial place of Keats at the Protestant Cemetery near Piramide Metro Station in Roma, I was calmed and pleased by the presence of so many others at the plot where stood "all that was mortal" of the love of my life.

I spent a few hours in the place. And while it may sound silly, it became one of the highlights of my entire journey around Roma and around Europe. There was just something so ideal about being in a quiet, funerary spot.

Prater, Wien

Alternatively, the Prater theme park (of sorts) in Wien, Austria, is not morbid of quiet however it has become quite abandoned in recent years due to a lack of enthusiasm by the general public. The Prater was one of the first amusement parks (if not the first) in the world and includes attractions like a ferris wheel and various rollercoasters, gift shops and food stands.

It wasn't the most fancy or architecturally stunning location in the city, but there was something about the history of it and the casual existence of it just within the city confines that felt special somehow. It's a theme park in a city. It's quiet and slightly abandoned. But it still has a lot of heart. I could feel that heart just walking around.

Dachau, München

Despite the distempered responses I've received since writing about my experience in Dachau - including those which did exactly what I explained was most disheartening about being "half-Jewish," as I call myself (and will continue to do regardless of dissenting opinions) - I would still like to list the experience of traveling to the concentration camp at Dachau among my most valuable experiences in Europe. And actually, as one of my most valuable experiences of all time.

To anyone who questions my authenticity or the connection I have with what occurred on the ground of that place so many years ago, I say that maybe it actually is none of your business. Maybe I shouldn't have shared it. Because, in truth, what I experienced and what anyone experiences when visiting Dachau, is a connection between themselves and whatever higher power strikes them as concerned, regardless of denomination and regardless of personal history.

In response to those who believe I have no right to align myself with my Jewish ancestors because I was brought up with different beliefs, let me just say that I still take issue with this argument. Though I appreciate the input and definitely understand why some might take offense, I still believe that everyone is the harbinger of their own cultural alignments, as aided by their upbringing and personal convictions and no one in the world except oneself has any right to dictate otherwise.

I am half-Jewish in the cultural but not religious sense. And there are plenty of non-practicing Jews who would likely align themselves similarly. Just because I don't follow the religion doesn't mean I deserve to lose the ability to explain the aspects of myself that aren't correctly described by a geographical location. My family were Eastern European nomads, but what characterized them within their culture was their Jewish community. It's not just a word denoting religion, but also the customs that surround that religion and don't necessarily need to be passed on through the religion. Still, I appreciate the alternative viewpoint and hope for peaceful coexistence. But I digress.

Den Lille Havfrue

To take away a bit of the stain of the more dramatic aspects of this post, I'll return to the very first part of my trip which was to the beautiful non-denominational statue of Den Lille Havfrue (The Little Mermaid) in København.

As someone who has long appreciated animated films and the fairy tales that are their source material, seeing this statue in person and remembering the history of the story and the man behind it (Hans Christian Andersen), made it one of the most important moments of my European voyage. It wasn't a personal or familial connection like Dachau, nor was it a quiet contemplative one like the Protestant Cemetery or the Prater. But it was a place to reflect on an object that is of personal significance to me - that has brought value and direction to my life for years. I guess you could say the same of some of the other places I visited, but in a strange way a Little Mermaid statue seems to be a good symbol of what I want out of life. The peace of storytelling and a quiet place to partake in it.

Thank you, Europe

Even while writing this blog I've been through some ups and downs. And Europe itself showed me some of those, depending on the hour and the day and the location. But overall the experience was irreplaceable and invaluable. I could never have wished for a better introduction to Denmark, Germany, Austria and Italy. And I will have quite a bit of trouble leaving tomorrow.

Kind of feeling European

There's a lot of Italia that I'll never get to see. Or, at the very least, there's a lot of Roma that will never reach my eyes save for in photos.

It's hard traveling to a new place. You make an itinerary full of sites to visit, perhaps (like me) you even try and find local eateries and cafés, shopping and market streets or individual boutiques to pop into along the way and back. This kind of meticulousness requires discipline and patience: the discipline of finding potential experiences to partake in, and the patience to avoid getting frustrated if things don't work out exactly as planned.

I tried not to go overboard with touristy plans while on my grand European adventure. I wanted to avoid places that would become elaborate traps to traveling salesmen and purveyors of precious replicas of the leaning tower of Pisa. In the end it was worth the effort.

My experience has made it so just turning a corner in Roma is like stepping into a fairytale. Like I explained to my friend Diana, this place makes me think I'm in the middle of EPCOT at Disney World. It's too idyllic, too quaint, providing too many subtle luxuries to explore. And by that I don't mean name brand or odd rip-off prices on handbags. I just mean the luxury of a calm life among the artificially planted trees and the erratic drivers of this, the Eternal City.

Together with Diana - and a bit on my own yesterday - I found myself enjoying the experience not necessarily of exploring the more frequented locales in Roma, but of looking past the most well-known places and exchanging them for new, humbler experiences.

Yesterday, while walking through the town toward the Piazza del Popolo, I found a man creating street art on a curb along the road. I marveled at his little creations. That chance encounter, more than any other experience of a similar magnitude, was something to love about Roma. It was a clear cut example of coming to a city and seeing culture play out casually. This was how a real Roman (granted, an eccentric one) lives. Not catering to English-speaking mouths all the time, but feeling content with potential miscommunication, instead, he tried to make conversation with me and share his art.

It was this experience, along with the rest of my evening which was spent wandering the streets near the Piazza di Spagna, that helped me to figure out what it is I love most about traveling.

And it's not the fascinating sites that I've been noticing on TV and in movies since I was five.

What I enjoy most about traveling is allowing myself to become a part of the place I'm in, inextricable from its residents. I want them to look at me and automatically assume I'm a local, or at least not brush me off as a tourist. It hasn't been easy - but as many moments as there are when you feel completely ill at ease in a new city or country, there will also be moments to remind you that you do have the capacity to belong.

It can be hard to reach this state of integration, especially when you're surrounded by people who've gotten used to the omnipresence of foreigners traveling to their shores and occupying the seats on their metro lines. They're frustrated which makes me frustrated. But we don't have to be frustrated at at all.

It can be extra hard when you decide to go to places like the Vatican. With all the tourists, pan handlers, swindlers and homeless or disabled people begging along the street, you almost lose that sense of being in a real place full of history and culture rather than an imagined one.

The best part of being in Roma, and being all over Europe in fact, has been that moment of realization at every single stop on my journey when I've reminded myself that yes, I am in fact in a foreign country and I can feel comfortable and knowledgeable here. In just a short amount of time I've turned a vague notion of this city into something tangible. I've learned how to use the Metro and how to navigate through the twisty streets.

As someone who goes to the Disney parks a lot at home, I can easily find myself confusing glossy fiction to reality. I mean, when a person in a giant mouse costume is part of your weekly entertainment schedule, you almost become lost in the idea of romanticized realities.

But the truth of Italia, and Europe so far, is that it has the capacity for that romanticism, but without the kitschy reminders that it is fiction. Because it isn't fiction. It's flesh and blood. It's alive and well. It may be a foreign country and feel like a rollercoaster ride, but it's nowhere near that kind of novelty attraction. Because it's unpredictable and simply real.

I truly believe it's the moments away from the expected, wandering the streets of an unknown city at night or simply exploring aimlessly with the hope of finding something or someone worth getting excited over, that make traveling worthwhile. And wherever I've been (at least in the last week), I've taken the initiative to make those aimless wanderings happen.

So I don't really mind if I stand on the periphery of the major tourist attractions. Even if I don't get to say I've been inside [insert landmark here], I can do one better. I've felt what it's like to really be a part of [insert city here (i.e., København, München, Wien and Roma)]. And that's all I really wanted anyway.