Back In Time: Discovering Budapest

A nighttime view of the Houses of Parliament in Budapest.

I'm sitting on a hotel bed in Budapest right now, drinking a café latte and listening to Nat King Cole sing "Oh Holy Night." Sing it to me, Nat. SING IT. Times like these make me feel like I was born in the wrong generation, you know? I mean, I know it's been said approximately 37,000 times, but don't you just want to step into an episode of Mad Men once in a while? Or sit down to drinks with Ernest Hemingway in a Parisian café in the Roaring Twenties? Or wear a bowler hat and fishnet stockings whilst entertaining a crowd of expats and Berliners in the 1930s, à la Liza Minnelli in Cabaret? (That last one might be a shared dream between only myself and trannies everywhere.)

The famous Chain Bridge, with Buda Castle behind it.

The point is that here in Budapest, things feel different from the rest of Europe - almost like a different time. It's not like ladies are walking around in corsets or anything (and P.S. there is more free, unlocked Wifi here than in any other city I've been to on this continent), but somehow, being here feels like being transported to some other time. Despite being a bit rundown (one Hungarian girl told me that locals like to think of it as "shabby chic"), there is a lot of soul in this little city: there's a lawless, Wild-West type feeling out here without the actual danger factor.

Like Berlin, it's a capital city that is cheap to live in: rent, public transport, and groceries are almost laughably inexpensive, and even though there is a black soot marring the façades of many buildings, the architectural bones of this city are beautiful, and worth saving. And mark my words, since the cat's out of the bag on Berlin, I think Budapest will be the next city artists and creative types flock to - MARK MY WORDS. 

Some things are still done the old-fashioned way here. When Dan and I were purchasing round-trip train tickets to Vienna, the clerk used carbon copy paper to make doubles, and there was a 10-minute long process of stamping and filling in - rather than a instant printout from a computer. And somehow, it felt more real: like this train ticket was more authentic than any other train ticket I'd handled before.

They use their own currency, the forint, rather than the Euro. People go to the bathhouses on Sundays. Typical Hungarian food can be found everywhere - not just in touristy neighborhoods where they jack up the price 200%. All of this, I suppose, lends itself to feeling like I've "been somewhere": after the common, albeit beautiful, Gothic and Art Nouveau architecture that seems to populate every European city and the chain bakeries that can be found in every train station (I'm talking to you, Le Crobag), it feels good to be in a place that seems to have retained some of it natural essence as the march toward global homogenization wears on.

The Merry Traveler: A Gift Guide

Returning to work after a long holiday weekend is always particularly brutal, methinks - which is why I thought it would be fun to put my Christmas list on the internet make a cheerful gift guide for my fellow  travelers! When it's especially cold outside and the sun hasn't come out in days (the once-romantic fog of Budapest has now become a gloomy reminder that winter has just started. Sigh.), I like to break out the brightest colors in my wardrobe. Greetings green! Bonjour bleu! Hello yellow! Aloha alliteration!

I know there is a picture of a pretty lady up there, but fellas: I PUT THAT TRAVEL-SIZE PING PONG SET THERE JUST FOR YOU. Because I suck at table tennis, despite Dan's earnest attempts to teach me. "Just, you know, swing at the ball and then hit it. With the paddle." Riiight. I'm much more interested in Vespa-shaped luggage tags, okay? Sue me. I also can't help it if I like maps that have moustaches on them, especially if they don't require seventeen lessons with origami master Won Park just to fold and put in your pocket. (Seriously, he's amazing.) They're already crumpled!

Punchy pouches and pretty passports are perfectly peachy, and Moleskines are mostly marvelous. (No, really: my Moleskine notebook from my semester in France is the best souvenir I could ever have. I expect that the notebook I've carried on this journey will become a treasured object as well.) And the aforementioned pretty lady? She's wearing a trench coat - WITH A HOOD. Which would have been the best thing ever for the rainy weather that followed me everywhere I went this summer.

Tell me, merry travelers: what are YOU wishing for this holiday season?

Want to shop these pieces? Click any of the thumbnails below:

P.S. This was not a sponsored post. However, this is a for-profit blog, so if you are interested in advertising with Of Revolt, contact me for rates: jackulick{at}gmail.com. You know you wanna. Especially you, Flight 001. CALL ME.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

In honor of it being Black Friday, which automatically signifies the start of the shopping, I mean, holiday season in the United States,* I thought I would title this post with lyrics from one of my favorite Christmas songs. (Which would be "The Little Drummer Boy" - you can go listen to my favorite version right here.) You can take the girl out of Catholic school, but you can't take the Catholic school out of the girl, am I right?! At this point in our relationship, I think you should also know that I played the Virgin Mary in the first grade Christmas play. My grandmother sewed the costume. Jesus was a plastic baby doll. Let us bring him silver and gold!

Anyway! This is a picture of a typical Hungarian house - I found it whilst ambling around the Fisherman's Bastion here in Budapest the other day:

 Pretty, right? Ever so quaint. Now . . . DO YOU SEE WHAT I SEEEEE?!

Could've been old Saint Nick himself, I tells ya. And to those of you risking your lives braving the crowds on this holiest of holidays, I say unto thee: thou shalt not use pepper spray. It stings.

Happy Black Friday, mah peeps! See you on Monday!


*Don't get me wrong; I like shopping. I like shopping so much that even as a three year-old child in the mall I turned to my mother and said, "Let's shop 'til we drop!" I'm just not a fan of the mindless accumulation which is an unfortunate characteristic of this day. I much prefer to acquire things that are inherently beautiful or practical and worth having simply because I find them so.

Halászbástya, or Fisherman's Bastion

A statue of Stephen I of Hungary was erected in the square in 1906.

HELLO! Happy Thanksgiving Eve, homies. This year will mark my third Thanksgiving spent away from home - the first was while I was studying abroad in France, on which occasion a friend and I skipped classes for the entire day to make stuffing from scratch which, upon tasting, was declared "a Thanksgiving miracle." We also made a turkey in a toaster oven - two toaster ovens, actually. We didn't eat until midnight, but you can bet your bottom dollar that it was delicious. Dan and I won't be able to celebrate this year, so do me a favor and eat your weight in mashed potatoes for me. Anyway . . . let's talk about BUDAPEST! Yay!

So here's a generally good tip for visiting any new city: climb a hill. No, seriously, find a hill and climb it. This tip works especially well for European cities because they have lots of castles and cathedrals and fortresses and buttresses and flying buttresses and most of these are on top of the highest hill so that the Goths or Visigoths or Vandals or whoever were tired by the time they got up there and just didn't have the energy to rape and pillage. (Just in case you weren't sure, I'm j/k about the buttresses and flying buttresses part - those are architectural elements used to support large structures. I know that from art history class. I got an A!) Budapest is no different: they've got palaces aplenty, and enough bridges to keep you walking for days. DAYS, I TELL YOU.

A view from the cafe atop Fisherman's Bation.

Because our couchsurfing host lives on the Buda side of Buda-Pest, we decided to explore that part first. We walked up a hill and sure enough, were rewarded with the BEST VIEW I HAVE EVER SEEN, EVER. I mean, it was a ridiculously foggy day and still it was magical: we could see over the entire city, even down to the Houses of Parliament on the Pest side. We had no idea that we would end up there, but it turned out that the "castle" we had found ourselves in was called Halászbástya, or Fisherman's Bastion: a neo-Gothic terrace built to overlook the Danube River. It got its name because it was protected by a guild of fisherman, but now it's mostly a tourist attraction with many stairs and walking paths to explore.

It is free to visit, but should you decide to enter any of the shops that are clustered within, beware: they will accost you with a deluge of exasperated aggression previously utilized only by squeegee men on the Third Avenue Bridge. Shop owner: "Did you know you could throw this Christmas egg on the floor and it won't break?! Try it, try it, TRY IT!" Me: (backs away slowly). So skip the souvenir shops (they're overpriced up there anyway), and scamper on down to one of the sidewalk cafés - we stopped in for some mulled wine and let me tell you, that stuff tastes like heaven on a cold day.

Don't mind if I do.

Also, this is apropos of nothing (except maybe the Gingerbread Latte I'm drinking as I write this), but here in Hungary, Santa Claus is believed to live in . . . Finland! Haha, that's so funny.

Bye!

Blog for a Good Cause

That's a photo of my new nephew, Finnegan. Precious little nugget, he is. Don't you think so? Sure you do, everyone loves babies. He was born on September 6th, which means that I haven't even met him yet since Dan and I have been traveling for nearly 10 months now, but that doesn't mean I don't already love the sh!t out of him. Here's the thing, though: Finn has MIC-CAP syndrome. What's MIC-CAP syndrome, you ask? Never heard of it, you might say. I hadn't either. Why? Because Finn is only the 10th child IN THE ENTIRE WORLD to be identified as having this disease.

That's pretty freaking incredible, I know. You would think that in this day and age, our technology and giant human brains would have not only identified this disease long ago, but possibly even found a cure for it - or at least a combination of medicines to control it. But since MIC-CAP syndrome is so "new," Finn's doctors are just barely able to control the seizure activity that occurs in his brain every 10 seconds. Here are some other symptoms he experiences:

• Microcephaly - that's small head size in doctor talk. (That accounts for the MIC in MIC-CAP.)
• Capillary malformations - those are little red dots on his skin. (Hence the CAP in MIC-CAP.)
• Impaired neurological capacity.
• Blindness.
• Deafness.

Being new parents and having a newborn baby is tough enough as it is: the sleepless nights, the new responsibilities, the extra expenses. Now imagine having a newborn baby with the symptoms I just mentioned: THAT'S APPROXIMATELY 9.7 MILLION TIMES HARDER. Finn literally requires 24-hour care, and medical treatment in the United States is absurdly expensive. So of course Dan and I want to help our little nephew . . . but how?

Here's how: from now until January 1st, ALL (that's 100%, my friends) of the proceeds from Dan's music store and subscription site will go towards helping pay for Finn's medical bills. Or you can simply DONATE any sum, large or small. Any amount will be appreciated. 

Since Thanksgiving is only four days away, I can't think of a better time to say

Thank you, dear readers. Especially in this. 

Traveler's Guide to Making Better Small Talk

There are some things that, as a child, your mother probably told you NOT to do: touch the hot stove, color on the walls, run naked through the house, etcetera. (Actually, I never did that last one. I was a very modest child - hiding in the corner when we had to change clothes for gym class. You know the type.) Well, one thing your mother told you not to do as a youngster is sort of inescapable as an adult: talking to strangers. As a traveler, conversation with people you don't know is particularly unavoidable, and especially if you are traveling alone for lengthy periods of time, you might want to seek out some form of social contact. And with the holidays coming up, you'll be forced to make chit-chat at parties and get-togethers anyway (unless you're one of the smart ones who escaped on these cheap holidays to the Maldives), so why not do it better if you have to do it at all? And you know what? You might even make a new friend. Hooray! 

A Traveler's Guide to Making Better Small Talk With Strangers, Both At Home and Abroad 

Stop being embarrassed. 

Fact: 98.3% of the world populace admits to being uncomfortable when meeting someone for the first time.* (*I just made that up. But it could be true. It's truthy.) The trick here isn't so much to completely let go of your awkwardness (some of us never will - myself included), as it is to just brush right by it and introduce yourself anyway. The first few minutes of a conversation are always the easiest anyway, so step out of the corner, Wendy Wallflower! Here's how:

Talk about something other than work.

This is a uniquely American trait: when meeting someone for the first time, people often open a conversation by asking the other person what they do for a living. Now, unless he or she makes their living by jumping off of cliffs wearing only a wingsuit and a smile, their tales of daily drudgery are probably uninteresting to both themselves and you. If you are a traveler meeting other travelers (like at a Couchsurfing meet-up, for example), the easiest thing to do is this: ask where they are from, what they're doing in this country/city/hamlet, and where they're going next. Once they've replied, they'll probably turn right around and ask you the same questions. Boom! That's 10 minutes of conversation right there.

Not wayfaring at the moment? No problem! Ask them where they're from, what they're doing here, and where they're going next. You see what I'm saying? These three questions can be modified to work for any and every situation you will find yourself in: industry conferences, your best friend's birthday party, your neighbor's annual BBQ. (For example, at a corporate function, you don't want to ask your boss what she's "doing here." But maybe you want to ask what she's doing . . . this weekend. Adjust as necessary.)

The magic of such inquiries is that they're open-ended questions. Here's a trick I learned as a salesperson at a luxury handbag boutique: if you want a customer (or in this case, the stranger you're chatting with) to actually open up and have a real conversation with you, you have to ask questions to which the answer is never a simple yes or no. It sounds easy, but it's a real skill that takes time to master. Consider the difference:

Closed question: 

You: "So, you came in with Johnny, right?"

Stranger: "Yeah." 

The conversation is over before it even began. Tsk tsk.

Open question:

You: "So I saw you came in with Johnny. How do you guys know each other?"

Stranger: "Oh, we've been friends for years. We know each other from college."

You: "Nice - where did you guys go to college?"

Stranger: "Notre Dame. Graduated in 2005."

You: "Get out of town! My brother went there and graduated the same year - do you know him? His name is . . . " Blah blah blah.

Notice how both questions begin with a similar thought: you know Johnny and this other person does, too. With a closed question, you get no further details - just a confirmation of what you already knew. With an open question, you not only get more information about this person, but you've made a personal connection as well. Soon they will tell you all their secrets, which you can sell on the black market.

Do not fear the 11-minute lull.

In sixth grade I had a teacher who had a unique social theory: that no matter what the situation, discussion would lag around the 11-minute mark. THIS THEORY IS COMPLETELY UNPROVABLE AND MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE. What does makes sense, however, is that any dialogue between two people who do not previously know each other may, at some juncture, slow down to the point where one finds oneself just smiling at the other, then looking down, then to the left, then back at the person, then smiling again . . . and this is where it can get tricky. This is why I . . .

Always have a drink in hand.

That's not to say you need to have a bottle of 80-proof Polish vodka stuck to your paw. Heck, it doesn't even need to be more alcoholic than a glass of seltzer. The purpose of having a drink in hand is that, at some point, it will be done and you'll have to go get another from the bar/buffet table/refrigerator/whatever. This is the perfect time to excuse yourself if the person has turned out to be a complete bore, regaling you for the last half-hour with adventures in collecting Troll dolls. If the person is super-cool and could possibly be the soul mate you've been searching for the last 25 years, well then forget the drink, my friend. Submit to your destiny of love and eternal happiness. I salute you.

Finally, practice.

International travel has taught me, amongst other things, that the art of conversation is not lost. (The French are particularly good at it. So are the Danish. Just sayin'.) Travel is rife with opportunities to exercise communication skills of all kinds, and since you're a stranger in a strange land, it's a bit easier to let go of the inhibitions that, uh, inhibit us. Now go off and make small talk like you've never made small talk before. Because you haven't. Not like this. 

Bye!

Oh wait! Join my blog's Facebook page, become a Google follower, and stumble the heck out of this thing. Don't forget to tweet me!

Okay, bye! Have a good weekend! See you Monday!

Country Stereotypes: Germany

Brandenburger Tor (i.e. Brandenburg Gate) in Berlin.

Oh. Hi. You again? Really? Don't you have some work to do? Shouldn't you be tickling a kitten or something? Haha, I'm just kidding! Let's have a dance party talk about stereotypes! (The dance party comes later, after cocktails.)

This being my last week in Germany - a country that has been stereotyped in both extremely positive and extremely negative ways over the last century or so - I've been thinking about how stereotypes come into play as travelers. Dan and I have spent more time here than in any other country during this trip, and honestly, we have come to love the land, the beer, the people, the beer, the sausage, the beer, the culture . . . the beer.

So let's do a little free-form, stream-of-consciousness type thinking, shall we? And let's just be honest about it because lying is stupid and gets us nowhere.

Bicycles and the Berliner Dom (plus a ghostly-looking Fernsehturm/TV Tower in the background).

Here is what I associated with the word "Germany" before this year: Oktoberfest, lederhosen, dirndls, milkmaids, beer, sausage, Volkswagen, World War II, and a general attitude of speed and efficiency. In 2005, I made a short trip (only three days) to Berlin and left with the impression that the city was gray, industrial, and sort of charmless. Sad, right?

Here is what I associate with the word "Germany" now: warm, welcoming, extremely different from region to region (side note: Germany is a lot like the United States in this way. There are so many pronounced differences between the East and West and North and South: landscapes, accents, dialects, foods, cultural traditions - hell, even the glass they put their beer in changes from state to state and city to city. This country has a marvelous diversity of unwritten conventions and social mores, but one thing remains the same: you must - and I mean MUST - look a person directly in the eye when you clink glasses. Should you look elsewhere as you say "Prost", that is SEVEN YEARS OF BAD SEX FOR THE BOTH OF YOU. And nobody wants that. Am I right?!), cheerful people who are quick to help a confused visitor, a hilarious, slightly subversive sense of humor (just my style!), lots of opportunities for students and artists (read: waaay better subsidies and an actual respect for people who make a living by doing creative work), and a population with an interest in travel and a knowledge of world politics and economics that, so far, exceeds any other nation I've been to.

Jazz hands for Germany! 

And Berlin? Well, Berlin is happening is the same way Paris was in the 1920s, or the way New York was in the 1960s. It is an absolute hotbed for artistic expression, good design, new intellectualism, and stylish nightlife. And as far as capital cities go, it is dirt cheap. Go there. Right now.

Finally, the whole German propensity for punctuality is true. Straight up: if you invite someone to meet at a particular time, they will absolutely be there at the scheduled hour. If they will be even so much as five minutes late, they will call you and say so. I think this is extraordinarily polite, because if there is anything I hate in this world, it is waiting. For anything. Ugh, even just thinking of it makes me want to hurl. So there you have it. I am in love with Germany. Deal with it. 

What do you think, fair readers? Has any country or place you visited given your expectations the smackdown? How?

P.S. Wanna be my friend? My . . . (looks left, looks right) . . . Google friend? Sure you do! See that pretty little blue button on the right sidebar that says Join This Site? Yeah! Go click it! Because if the 3,000 of you that read this website yesterday would do that for me, I would be forever grateful. Gremlins never forget.

The Gestapo Prison

A view of Cologne after WWII, photograph via The Gestapo Prison Library.

I'm not really good at making jokes about Nazis. Some people are. Filmmakers, for example. See "Springtime for Hitler" from Mel Brooks's The Producers or watch Monty Python's "Funniest Joke in the World" sketch to see what I mean - both are sure to give you a laugh on a Monday morning. I'm much better at puerile humor: poop jokes, fart jokes, "yo momma" jokes, "your team" jokes, you know the like. In person, I am an excellent silly-voice-maker, superb ridiculous-dance-mover, first-rate funny-word-inventor, and I have the outstanding and endless capacity for short, rhyming songs about woodland creatures. I also enjoy misspelled signage, celebrity weight fluctuations, and making fun of the entire cast of The Jersey Shore and/or certain people who are famous for having a sex video and a fat ass (10 points for guessing who I'm talking about in the comments section!). But World War II . . . ugh, touchy subject.

Inside one of the prison cells.

The reason why I bring it up is because Dan and I went to the City of Cologne's Documentation Center on National Socialism, better known as the Gestapo Prison. The El-De building (so named because of the initials of the man who had it built, Leopold Dahmen) was the headquarters for the Cologne Gestapo from December 1935 to March 1945. Despite heavy bombing of the city by Allied Forces, the El-De building was largely unscathed, and much of the original structure is just as it was 66 years ago - including poignant inscriptions on the walls from prisoners who scratched their pain, sorrow, anger, and resolve using pencils, chalk, screws, their own fingernails, and sometimes, lipstick. 

A large inscription written in Cyrillic.

El-De is part museum, part library, part memorial. The exhibition starts on the basement level, a place that feels truly cold and haunted. It took us nearly an hour just to read the inscriptions left by prisoners, mostly Russian and Ukrainian men and women (the museum has translated it into both German and English). There were also records left by French and Dutch prisoners, as well as an account of the daring escape by Askold X, a [blank] man who had the terrible misfortune of escaping, only to be recaptured two years later and returned to El-De. The prison itself is the most moving part of the exhibit, as visitors are allowed to walk in and through the cells that would house up to 33 people at a time (when they were meant for 6-8). Typhoid was rampant, and they were not allowed to wash. 

The identification card of a Dutch man.

Upstairs deals with the way National Socialism developed in the city of Cologne: the seizure of power, suppression of the opposition, the concept of the "ethnic German nation," and, of course, the racial exclusion and persecution perpetrated  by Hitler's forces. Mostly told through photographs, newspaper articles, and salvaged letters, this is an important part of understanding how Germany came to be under Nazi control. (I do recommend renting headphones for this part of the exhibit, as all of the explanations and placards are in German). 

An elderly women escaping the bombing, photograph via the Gestapo Prison Library.

It was strange to be walking amongst these relics, especially considering how recent this history still feels. Having spent more time here than in any other country on our trip, it is astounding to see how this country has recovered from its terrible past, and how committed people are today in making sure no one ever forgets this horrific period. I am the sort of traveler who prefers to seek out what is most beautiful or charming in a country, but I would certainly counsel anyone visiting Cologne to spend time in the Gestapo prison, reflecting on both the victims and survivors of wars everywhere, and thinking about how we might do better as a human race.

A man sitting amongst the wreckage of Cologne, photograph via the Gestapo Prison Library.

A Tour of Cologne Cathedral (Kölner Dom)

Guess what?! Today marks the 150th post since I've started blogging! Whoopee! Let's have a photo essay to celebrate! Here goes:

A view of the backside of Cologne Cathedral.

Dan and I did something a little unusual the other day: we took a guided tour around Cologne Cathedral. Now, if you know me in person or have been following this blog with any regularity you know that I'm the kind of person who will make fun of famous artists in their own home, play hide-and-seek in some flower bushes, hike up a mountain in a pair of Keds, stuff my gob with all manner of foreign goodies, and generally laze about to my heart's content. Guided tours hadn't yet entered my travel lexicon (which mostly includes "Another beer please" in about eight different languages), but here's the thing: I liked it. And I would do it again, so there.

Cologne Cathedral is a World Heritage Site (I am racking these babies up faster than a Kardashian can get divorced!) and is the largest Gothic church in Northern Europe. Construction took 600 years to be completed, which really calls into question the German reputation for efficiency. (Just kidding, Germany! I love you. Adopt me?)

The Shrine of the Three Kings.

The church itself is really beautiful and full of history: this is where the bodies of the Three Wise Men who visited the birth of Hey-Zeus (that's Jesus FYI) are kept in a casket made of gold and precious stones. It's very shiny, and the glass is bullet proof, though it's not to protect the bodies - you know us Catholics, we love our gold! P.S. I went to Catholic school for 13 years, thankyouverymuch.

This mosaic depicts the original edifice that stood in this spot.

There are also many mosaics on the floor of the cathedral and this was my favorite part of the tour. Here's why: you know the phrase "stinking rich," right? Well, in olden times, the poor people of the city were buried in cemeteries outdoors, like we still do today. The wealthy people, however, were buried in crypts underneath the floors of the cathedral. Because the crypts were less than a foot below where people were standing and praying (and because they obviously didn't have the practice of embalming), those dead bodies stank like hell - which also gave rise to the tradition of brides carrying bouquets on their wedding day! See? Learning is fun!

A stained-glass window by Gerhard Richter.

Like most cathedrals, there are gorgeous stained-glass windows that flood the space with colorful light when the sun shines through them. They are enormous, over 65 feet tall (that's 20 meters for my Euro friends) and the one pictured above is by artist Gerhard Richter - the Archbishop of Cologne apparently hates it because it doesn't have a picture of Jesus multiplying fishes or whatever. It's just little squares of color, very modern you know.  

Domkloster 4, Cologne North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany.

Finally, Kölner Dom is also distinct in being the only cathedral in the world . . . (wait for it) . . . to have its own house number. What the eff for, I don't know. But I thought it was pretty freakin' funny, so I took a picture of it. 

Have a great weekend, peeps! Catch you on Monday.

Postcard from Cologne

Architectural elements of Cologne Cathedral.

Dear Reader,

Have you ever been so nervous that you felt like you were going to a) poop your pants, b) melt into the floor and die, c) throw yourself into the Rheine, or d) all of the above? THAT'S HOW I FEEL RIGHT NOW. 

Now I bet you're asking yourself, Self, Why 'dis bitch so crazy? What could have possibly happened to my favorite travel blogger? Here's the answer, my friends: I just submitted my fifth and final article for the Lucky Magazine Contributor Contest. Out of hundreds of entries, I finally made it to the last round where I'm competing with 10 other (very talented) women for a $10,000 grand prize and the opportunity to work with Editor-in-Chief Brandon Holley. I am over the moon that my work has made it thus far in this thrilling process, and now we have to wait for judging to be completed. 

Voting is no longer necessary, but I want to thank all of you who took the time to register and vote in previous rounds. I APPRECIATE IT AND WILL MOST DEFINITELY BUY YOU A CUPCAKE SOMETIME SOON. In the meantime, I need to go calm my nerves by drinking heavily taking a walk or something.  Regularly scheduled travel-related posts will return on Friday. I pinkie swear. I even put a nice picture of Cologne Cathedral (that's Kölner Dom in German, which is more properly called the High Cathedral of Saints Peter and Mary - but we'll talk about that more on Friday) up there for you.

But if you really can't wait two more days for your travel fix, head on over to my guest post at back-packer.org

7 Fun (Free!) Things to Do in New York City

and find out some of my favorite recommendations for cool activities in my hometown. See you on Friday! 

Love,

Jessica (@ofrevolt)

P.S. You'll earn extra cool points in my book if you also check out that final entry I mentioned. Feel free to use the comment box below the entries to tell the judges at Lucky why I deserve to win (i.e. because I'm awesome/want it more than anything I've ever wanted in my life and have worked really hard to get it.) Click here to read it:

Sneak Peek: The Reading Nook

Love you, bye! 

How English Sounds to Foreigners + Prisecolinensinenciousol

This is a picture of me in London from back in February.
It is completely unrelated to the post below. 

Hi, hello, how are yeh? Okay, I know that "yeh" is ungrammatical and should be replaced with "you" immediately, but I need to practice my Canadian accent to go along with my Canadian tuxedo fit in when we go there next year. Anyway! That's next year and now is now. What's happening now? Well, right now, exactly now, I'm drinking an instant coffee (not as icky as you'd think, but still, ew) and listening to Christmas music (it's never too early, unless you work in Staples where they put that ish on in September. Once I complained to a manager on behalf of all the employees who worked there that the 24/7 Christmas music in September was a cruel and unusual punishment. The lady who rung me up was so grateful that she gave me a 20% discount on my printer cartridges. See?! It pays to help your fellow human beings.).

Lately though, I've been thinking about what it will feel like to return to the States in December, especially since I've gotten so used to being, well, a foreigner. (And this is just a side note but please, for Pete's sake, this is for everyone who thinks that you have to raise your voice to make yourself understood by foreigners: the second you start screaming at me in French/German/Polish/Pig Latin/Whatever I want to throw that bottle of overpriced Pellegrino on the damn floor and walk out because not only do I not understand you, but you are SCREAMING AT ME and now I would prefer to patronize the fellow across the street who will simply point to the price on the register and NOT SCREAM AT ME in frantic French/German/Polish/Pig Latin/Whatever. Ugh, I really just had to get that off my chest after a terrible experience in a train station kiosk yesterday. This goes both ways, though. My fellow Americans: should you find yourself communicating with a non-English speaker DO NOT RAISE YOUR VOICE. Speak calmly and slowly, use expressive gestures and try to enunciate. Every time your voice goes up a decibel, so does my blood pressure. Not fun.)

So, considering that I'm used to English not being the native language of the land, here are two videos that try to capture how English sounds to foreign speakers. The first is called "Prisecolinensinenciousol," and it's a 70s era parody by Adriano Celentano for an Italian T.V. program called Mileluci. The lyrics are sung entirely in gibberish designed to sound like American English. Not only that, but as one commenter put it, "the Ministry of Silly Walks must have choreographed this." Hilarious, and a perfect pick-me-up for a rainy and foggy Monday.

The second one is a short film called "Skwerl" by Sydney-based director Brian Fairbairn. This one is more recent, and although most of it is in actual English, the words are strung together in a completely nonsense fashion, which produces a sort of hypnotic effect for native speakers. I found myself playing back certain parts because I felt like I had "missed" them, though there is obviously no actual dialogue to miss. An interesting experiment. 





That's all! Ta-ta for now! Don't forget to join Of Revolt's Facebook page! I'll love you forever! Bye!

Road Trip Playlist #01

Here's the thing about the weekend videos: I love them! However, because nobody else seems to (seriously, not one comment on Andrew Bird? WTF mate.), I am going to amend the weekend videos to become more appropriate to a travel blog audience, hence . . . road trip playlists! I've loved playlists since I could push the little red Record button on my parents' cassette player to get the perfect radio version of Mariah Carey's "Butterfly" . . . or whatever. (Give me a break, I was like 12 years old.) Anyway! There is really nothing cooler than your hair blowing in the wind, driving with the top down in your dad's convertible, listening to a sick mix for a road trip. Sick, I said! I could have also written "rad," but I haven't lived in California since . . . ever.

So here it is, friends! My perfect playlist for the perfect road trip. I even tested it out this Monday, when we rode from Paris to Cologne. It was awesome. 

Jessica's Indie Rock Playlist That Would Have Been Really Cool and Current During the Summer of 2009, But Probably Isn't Anymore Since It's Already 2011 But Whatever, She Still Loves All of These Songs And Is Also Including a Video of the First One #01

1. Audience - Cold War Kids

2. Giving Up the Gun - Vampire Weekend

3. Swing Tree - Discovery

4. While You Wait for the Others - Grizzly Bear

5. The Plot - White Rabbits

6. Armistice - Phoenix

7. DLZ - TV on the Radio

8. Young Adult Friction - The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

9. My Night With the Prostitute from Marseille - Beirut

10. The Ruminant Band - Fruit Bats

11. Good to Sea - Pinback

12. The Cave - Mumford & Sons

13. I've Got Your Number - Passion Pit

(Best lyric ever: "Have you seen me cryyy . . . tears like diamonds?")

14. L.E.S. Artists - Santigold

15. You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb - Spoon

16. Action/Reaction - Choir of Young Believers

17. Ambivalence Avenue - Bibio

18. Hair Down - Cold War Kids 

(Okay, maybe these are the best lyrics ever: "She's laughing like a choir girl, when she doubles over sounds like 'Hallelu-yeah!'")

Also, I'm a big believer in beginning and ending playlists with the same artist or band - it's the circle of life, right? Sure it is.

Tweet ya later!

{Guest Post} Backpacking in Chile

Hey, look, it's Friday! I think we should have cupcakes to celebrate, but first, let me introduce the first in a series of guest posts that I'll be hosting on this here ol' travel blog. Back in September, Dan and I did this video interview with our friend Steve, and since collaborating with him was so fun, we thought we'd do it again! Below you'll find his advice for backpacking through Chile on a budget, as well as some of his favorite spots in this incredible place. Oh, and P.S. If you're interested in a game of naked Twister working with me or advertising on Of Revolt, drop me a line at jackulick{at}gmail.com. Take it away, Steve!

Villarica Volcano in Pucon, Chile. Photo by Steve Hänisch.

Exactly one year ago I went to Chile for 3.5 weeks of backpacking. During that time I saw a lot of this beautiful country: geysers, volcanos, the Andes, Araucanian trees (one of the oldest trees on the planet!), street art in the world cultural heritage site of Valparaiso, and much more. I had a really great time there and discovered all of this on a small budget - so I'll use this post to give you a little overview about what to do in Chile.

1. Santiago
First of all, let me introduce you to Santiago de Chile: the capital and usually the first city travelers come to. I arrived there after a long flight from Germany with a stopover in Madrid, Spain. Somehow I felt like I never left Spain at all when walking around that city, and not only because of the language: the relaxed lifestyle, the hospitality, the food, and of course the friendly inhabitants make you want to stay longer.

I was very lucky because as I arrived Chile was celebrating its 200th anniversary: big parties, fireworks, and happy people were all around the place. I also couchsurfed in Santiago and because of this I was right into the culture: I was invited to join a typical Chilean BBQ for the main holiday, and it took place in the garden of a Chilean family - this was the real deal!

Preparing to sandboard the dunes of Atacama. Photo by Steve Hänisch.

2. San Pedro de Atacama

This little desert village is located in the far north of Chile, directly in the driest desert on Earth: the Atacama Desert. I used San Pedro as my base camp for one week to discover the area: I went to the geysers of El Tatio, the Moon Valley, saw flamingos, went to the lagoons of Miniques & Miscanti and sandboarded the dunes. It'll take you 23 hours by (really comfortable!) bus to get there, but it's absolutely worth it.

3. Pucon
 If you're addicted to action and adventure, this is the place to go in Chile. Located in the south, this area is completely different compared to the parts I described before: green forests, big lakes, rivers and snow-covered volcanos. Pucon is a tourist hotspot with a perfect infrastructure: I climbed the volcano Villarica (with crampon and ice pick), made a hike through National Huerquehue Park, went to the hot springs, and did snowshoeing in El Cani. It is also highly recommended to go to the local restaurants out there: Chilean friends told me that you can find the best restaurants in all of Chile over there (but beware: it's pricey!).

Castillo Wulff, Vina del Mar. Photo by Steve Hänisch.

4. Valparaiso & Vina
I used my last stop in Chile for recreation - both cities are perfect for that! Art, culture, beaches, and good food can be found here: just walk around the streets of Valparaiso, enjoy the street art and visit museums. I also recommend a day trip to Vina: here you can go to the beach and walk around the parks - unfortunately the water temperature is quite cold, even in the summer.

Nevertheless, I would suggest to take more time for an itinerary like that when backpacking through Chile; this way your journey would be much more relaxed and you would have the opportunity to get a much better feeling for the place. Due to my job, I did not have the time for visiting Patagonia as well - on my next trip to South America this is on top of my list, because I definitely want to do the one-week hike through the national park of Torres del Paine!

If you would like to read more stories about backpacking Chile and other destinations, visit Steve's travel blog: http://back-packer.org. You can also follow him on Twitter!

Life Lately

Oh, hello again. Fancy meeting you here. Nice to see you. Lovely weather today, isn't it? How's the family? Little Timmy fell out of a tree again? Oh my. Oh dear. Well, let's talk about me and my life, shall we?!

Here are some photos of life lately (which is similar to, but not exactly like this little post from way, way back in the summertime when it wasn't snowing in the East Coast, Thailand wasn't underwater, and I didn't care one whit whether the buttons on my winter coat fell off, which has become quite the cumbersome daily occurrence around these parts, these parts being, you know, wherever I happen to lay my head), according to my iPhone 3GS, which is starting to look pretty banged up and rather like the Motorola RAZR flip phone I had circa 2004, which, ugh, EW. Here, have a collage or two:

From the top left, in clockwise order: 

1. The program cover at La Bellevilloise (say it with me now: bell-vee-wahze), one of my favorite local spots in Paris, and an awesome music hall that Dan has played at twice now. This place is pretty far off the tourist radar, as it is in the 20th arrondissement which is mostly made up of random fast food joints, Turkish bridal shops, and KILLER MUSIC VENUES. Seriously, go there. Food and drinks are expensive but delicious, and the atmosphere is so authentically Parisian that it almost hurts. 

2. Like most people, I have the strange habit of taking pictures of my food. Why this is, I don't know. Just roll with it. It was some kind of vegetarian Moroccan dish and I LOVED IT. I tucked the program cover underneath my dish for added creative merit, as naked ladies make everything "artsy." 

3. This is a picture of Dan performing at P.H. Cafeen, another super-cool music venue with delicious food, but this time we're in Copenhagen, not Paris. The café is named after the famous Danish lighting designer Poul Henningsen. The Danes love good design, and I love them for it. P.S. They have a meatball menu. No, Snookie and Deena are not on it.

4. Poffertjes! Poffertjes are Rotterdam's answer to funnel cake. They are crispy, buttery, flaky, sugary, and full of love. Should you go to Rotterdam at any time in your life, for any reason, you need to try these. You can tell the lady at the counter I sent you. She'll know what you mean.

From the top left, in clockwise order:


1. That's just Dan chillaxin' on the Deutsch Bahn. That's the German train system, but you knew that I knew that you knew that already, right?! But here's something I bet you didn't know: in Germany they have what is called the Schönes-Wochenende-Ticket (that literally translates to "Happy Weekend Ticket" - go ahead, have a chuckle) which costs only 39 € and can be split between up to five people! That's about 8 € per person, my friends! That is a huge savings! You should use that sweet little tip if you're ever in Germany! Hooray!


2. Who's that doggy in the window? I don't know. But he sure is cute, checking out the scene such as he is. 


3. Freaks in love - Jess and Dan edition. 


4. Yeah, this is my problem with taking photos of food again. There is absolutely no reason for me to have a picture of a pumpkin surrounded by a head of lettuce and some squash? Potatoes? Weirdly-shaped yellow apples? other than that I really like the Hipstamatic application on my aforementioned iPhone, because new technology that makes things look like old technology is so. Frickin'. Awesome. 

Okay, don't forget to tweet at me! Bye!