Dear Individuals somehow included on the Jeffrey Eugene, Linda Blair International Mailing List,

Hello again from the comfy and wet confines of the Pacific Northwest. The purpose of this prose is to document Linda & Jeff’s honeymoon - phase III.

You see it all started back on May 25 when Jeff & Linda tied the knot. They spent their first Honeymoon (Phase I) on Cycle Oregon; a seven day 540 mile bicycle ride across Oregon. From the Snake river on the Oregon/Idaho border to the Pacific Ocean accompanied with approximately 20,000 feet of elevation gain over 3 mountain ranges. Now I know what some of you are thinking, "Wow! Interesting! But it really doesn’t sound all that romantic." Well ya’ll are more intuitive than I give you credit for because, after averaging over 75 miles a day on a hard bicycle seat, this wasn’t your typical honeymoon! (if you know what I mean, nudge, nudge, wink, wink.)

Anyway after completing honeymoon Phase I it was on to Phase II. One glorious week at our timeshare in Cabo San Lucas (see previous year’s excursion to Mexico/Central America). While Linda took her scuba certification classes Jeff managed to sneak in 6 rounds of golf on the Pete Dye designed championship golf course. In the true honeymoon tradition Jeff accompanied his blushing (or was her regulator just malfunctioning?) bride on her graduation dives. "Yes!" you must be thinking "this is more like a traditional honeymoon." But wait there’s more because it was finally time for honeymoon Phase III: Eastern European Vacation 1997!

The following is a brief synopsis of our two months of travel as excerpted from the "Journal" and our own foggy memories of what will, more likely than not, be our last honeymoon…

"…the flight from Portland to Frankfurt was uneventful except that Linda had a full glass of red wine spill onto her lap. When she started to get upset I said there were two ways to look at it. First off, if that was the worst thing to happen to us on this trip we should consider ourselves very lucky. Secondly, there are people in Berlin who would gladly pay $60 to have their pants look like that."

"We met Linda’s old-high-school-exchange-student’s-father at the train station. Her parents, John & Doritte, were incredibly kind. It also turns out that not only was Doritte an awesome cook but she also placed 6th in the 200 meter breast stroke final in the 1960 Olympics in Rome." After touring the town and going for a swim at the local pool it was tempting to just stay in Arhus for the entire two months. But as they say; ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ or is it; ‘Onward Soldiers who happen to be named Chris.’

We missed our train connection in Copenhagen and the train station closed at 2a.m. so we went to a couple of bars, made friends w/ some ex-pat musicians from Philly and London, and barely caught our 6:30 a.m. train to Stockholm. Horribly hungover we arrived extremely exhausted from the overnight train and slept the first day away. Stayed on the island across from the old town, went for a 4 mile run the next morning and then walked all over the City until our overnight ferry to Helsinki at 6p.m. that night.

The overnight ferry from Stockholm to Helsinki is world famous for partying Scandinavians looking to escape the oppressive value added taxes on most consumable goods. "We arrived in Helsinki the next morning @ 9 a.m. to gale force winds and freezing rain. We checked into the hostel which was lifesavingly close to the cruise ship terminal." Afterwards we braved the elements to find a swimming pool. "Swimming is very therapeutic when traveling because it, more than any other activity, can replicate one of our favorite activities at home and therefore give the sensation of normalcy." After the swim and walking tour of the City center we grabbed a bite to eat at astoundingly unreasonable prices. For me its always fun visiting Finland because I definitely feel a connection to the people. It certainly mobilizes the Finnish blood that courses through my veins like so much ice water. (Please forgive the hyperbole but my Grandmother on my Mom’s side was Finnish.) The next morning we caught the 9a.m. ferry for the 1 ½ hour ride to Tallinn, Estonia.

"Upon arrival in Tallinn we stepped up to the plate and took a mighty swing…strike one! - we walked about 2 ½ miles w/ backpacks only to find that the Let’s Go recommendation for a hotel was no longer in service. Got caught looking…strike two! - we then took a cab to the town center only to find that the other Hotel for travelers had been converted into a strip bar. Another swing…foul tip! - on the advice of locals we waddled another 1 ½ miles looking for another nonexistent hostel. Holding our ground we were beaned by a high & tight fastball…take your base! - we finally staggered to the information desk in town and found the Tihase Guesthouse. After all the struggles it was great to have a warm bed & even warmer hosts in Eva (mother) and Ivo (son)." Eva gushed on and on about her 6 month trip to America. She said the best thing about America was the service. ‘Everyone was so nice and helpful’ she said. ‘Where in America did you visit? We responded. ‘New York City!’ came the unlikely reply. We didn’t have the heart to tell her that most Americans consider New Yorkers the most unfriendly people in the U.S. But compared to Eastern Europe, New Yorkers could easily be seen as nice as Disney employees. The ‘customer comes first’ is not in the mindset of Eastern European businesses. We quickly gathered our wits and stamina and headed into one of the most glorious old towns of the entire trip, only to find that the Saku brewery was celebrating a birthday. The large tent in the old town square was filled to capacity with some of the most drunk celebrants this side of Mardi Gras. The atmosphere was electrified by sing-a-long folk music and dancing. "We were absolutely amazed at how proficient all the Estonians were at dancing. It literally looked as if all 100 or so people on the dance floor graduated at the top of their respective dance classes. Not once did we see those awkward American dance moves like back in the States." The next day we prepared to spend the day touring the old town until the night train to St. Petersburg, Russia. "But 15 minutes before our train is scheduled to leave I decide to go ahead and get the visas together and…what! We lost the visas, travelers’ checks, train tickets & flight coupons!...no that can’t be!…we won’t be able to get into Russia! Sure it seems obvious now but at the time we figured, we’ve got copies right? Wrong! At 1:30 in the morning the official Russian response was; ‘You got big problem’. We were unceremoniously extricated from the train and after 2 ½ hours of sitting at the extremely cold border station and Linda’s first experience with Baltic restrooms we were on a train back to Tallinn. In retrospect we could have used the train tickets the next day but we were so young and naïve." Fortunately for us we were able to get in touch with Eva, at the Tihase Guesthouse, whose first response was ‘Come home right now!’ She was a lifesaver in our time of strife. One of these days were gonna have to reciprocate the kindness, if that’s possible. In Tallinn the next morning we spent the day jumping one Russian Consulate hurdle after another to get replacement visas. With a whole lot of luck and $130 later we were back on the overnight train to St. Petersburg, Russia.

"We arrived at the Warsaw train station in St. Petersburg at 7:30 a.m. with no idea where we were and with no rubbles…oops…Freudian slip…rubles. So utilizing the knowledge gained from past mistakes we began hoofing it to the hostel. 2 hours and 15 minutes later we staggered into the lobby of the hostel. Isn’t this where someone mentions something about teaching old dogs new tricks? As snow was starting to fall we noted that the only good thing about the hike from Hell was that we discovered that if our lives depended on it we could survive a hike of, say, 2 ½ hours." The next 3 days was a whirlwind of sightseeing in this glorious city known as the "Venice of the North". We were continuously amazed at the sheer grandeur and size of the buildings. Russia was not at all what we expected. It was a cosmopolitan city with numerous cultural centers interspersed with modern conveniences. Just walking the streets visiting the likes of St. Isaacs Cathedral, Peter and Paul’s fortress, the Ethnic Museum (of which, at their peak, Russia was home to over 150 different ethnic groups – by contrast- America has about 10 to 20 - if its safe to throw all the European Americans into one or two ethnic groups), and numerous other cultural sites can bring you to your knees. Not only from the sensory overload, but from the sheer miles needed to traverse all the sites. Needless to say that St. Petersburg is a very large place. We also took in a little theater that exhibited traditional Russian song and dance. It only reinforced our belief that America is a cultural abyss that answers only to the omnipresent God of Consumerism. But enough of my editorials, if you don’t believe me: don’t buy that new car; skip that unnecessary addition to the house; blow off that jet ski; buy food in something other than single servings; purchase the next flight out to anywhere but the U.S. and take in some serious culture!

"We arrived in Moscow on October 25^th . Equipped with our vast metro knowledge, we quickly found our dingy hostel and Russian friend-in-waiting, Kattia." Kattia was invaluable as translator, tour guide and ambassador. We spent a wonderful day touring Red Square and the Kremlin. We tried in vain to pass Linda off as Russian to get the local price (versus the tourist price which is sometimes as high as 10 times more expensive than the local price). Later in the day Kattia helped us to purchase 2 tickets to The Sylphid ballet at the venerable Bolshoy Ballet Theater. ‘Darling if you have the means, we highly recommend catching a ballet at the Bolshoy!’ (Sorry, but we’ve always wanted to be able to say that). Easily the most magical and memorable cultural experience of the entire trip. Another thing, aside from goose bump ballets, Moscow is also famous for the extraordinary underground metro stations. Each metro stop would house awesome works of art, each different from the next. And even though the directions were in Cyrillic script, the navigating was simple at worst. The last day we spent the entire day trying to procure overnight train tickets to Riga, Latvia. Ticket prices fluctuated from $60 per person to $35 per person depending on who we asked. It was during this frustrating experience that we realized how badly that we missed Kattia already. Not just for her translation skills but more for her genuine friendship that we developed over just a few days.

"In Riga we crawled out of the train station only to find 8 inches of snow blanketing the ground as brilliant sunshine enveloped the city. The difference from stodgy old Russia was immediately apparent. Riga is a very cosmopolitan and vibrant city. Our hotel room was best described by the local English language rag: ‘Roach motel with foul stench and very short beds, an ideal accommodation for smelly midgets.’ Riga in Your Pocket. And it hit the nail right on the head. Every night we had to aerate the room and the toilets were some mad scientist throw away project." We were to find that toilets in Russia and the Baltic States were not designed with sanitation or comfort in mind. (Actually, come to think of it, extreme discomfort could have been the only concept in mind when these countries built their toilet facilities. It is truly amazing how corrosive urea can be on an unprotected wall.) After finding the local university pool and a quick swim we stumbled upon easily the most emotional experience of the trip; the Occupation Museum. The museum documented the atrocities of the Russian occupation, and then later the Nazi occupation, and then later the Russian re-occupation. Being the byproduct of world history as taught in the American school system, with its edited and slanted views, we were woefully unaware of the pain and suffering inflicted by the Communist regime. Midnight deportations of entire families, executions in the streets and the extreme inhumane treatment in the Siberian Gulags (Communist prison camp). Some historians presume that 10 to 20 million people met their end during the time of the Communist insurgency. Powerful stuff. The next day we visited the seaside town of Jurmala (~45 minutes outside of Riga). "As usual, Latvia seems to have done an amazing job westernizing its major cities and keeping its cultural heritage intact. But as we would later discover on the bus to Klaipeda, Lithuania, the smaller towns that were not heavily touristed were in severe decay and still bearing the horrible scars of the Communist occupation.

Upon arrival, we found a bed & breakfast with a local family. "Its always fun and informative staying with the locals and discussing their own personal experiences with the sovietization of their culture and the subsequent rebirth." That night we found a really cool Jazz bar with Lithuania’s version of Louie Armstrong. We shared our table with some gregarious Russians living in the Country. After hours of conversation it became immediately apparent that it wasn’t the Russians who were the bad guys in the history of the Baltics. It was the Communist regime that held little value for human rights or opposing points of view. It really makes you think twice the next time you want that weirdo on the soap box to just shut up. Freedom of Speech is probably our greatest gift. "We spent the next day traveling by ferry and bus to the small seaside town of Nida in the middle of the Curian Spit. It easily contained some of the the most natural beauty of the trip to date." Later that night we met back up with our ‘family’ to discuss politics. The older brother of the family told us the following Gulag joke; "Camp Commandant to the first political prisoner-‘How long is your sentence and why are you imprisoned?’ 1^st political prisoner answers- ‘10 years and I don’t know why.’ 2^nd political prisoner answers- ‘10 years and I don’t know why.’ 3^rd political prisoner answers- ‘15 years and I don’t know why.’ The Camp Commandant immediately responds to the 3^rd political prisoner-‘I know you are lying because I don’t know why only carries a 10 year sentence!"

When we arrived in Vilnius we immediately headed for the "Americans-traveling-abroad-surrogate-mother’s-home cooking: MacDonalds (mostly so we could use the wonderful toilette facilities). Afterwards it was an easy check-in at the local hostel and a breezy 7 mile run around the very large old town. While running we couldn’t help but notice the larger than life advertisements for an upcoming Whitesnake Concert (an over the hill rock-n-roll group touring Eastern Europe) more on these guys a little later in the story. The next day it was off to find a swimming pool. We quickly found the first pool, paid our entry fee and it was off for a nice leisurely swim…not so fast my furry friend! It turns out that we had to pass some kind of medical examination. "At this point I’m not alarmed but I should have been. The physician, in her standard issue white smock, informs us that she must inspect our hands and feet before allowing us entry into the pool. OK, so I’m thinking that the hand check is no problem but the feet, well that could be my ‘Achilles Heel’ so to speak. So Linda is up first and with a self-confident-in-her-personal-hygiene swagger she approaches the Frau Doktor. With approving smile she reviews Linda’s well kept feet and hands. Now its my turn…to describe the look of dismay on this lady’s face when I put my foot up on the stool would be to discredit the raw emotion of fear, and later disgust that was so visibly apparent." Needless to say I failed the exam and we were unable to find another open swimming pool in the City. We did find a beautiful castle overlooking the City, the old KGB museum complete with padded holding cells, a Jewish museum (that documented a holocaust that ended in the extermination of 95% of the Jewish population in what was formerly known as the Jerusalem of the North), and a very large Old City that rivals any in Western Europe. We also stumbled upon a very cool brew pub and, after some needling, the friendly owner provided us with free beer and a tour of the place.

We took the overnight bus from Vilnius to Warsaw, Poland. When we arrived in Warsaw we decided to skip right on through to Krakow. A retired engineer named Stan greeted us at the train station with an offer of a cheap and centrally located room for rent. We dropped to our knees thanking him for making locating a place to sleep so stressless. It turns out the room was cheap ($18) and right next to Krakow’s old town. After a quick 4 mile run and nap we hit the streets trying in vain to enjoy ourselves, but the black ominous cloud of tomorrow’s destination; Auschwitz was hanging over our heads. The next morning we took the bus connection to Auschwitz and 1 ½ hours later we were under the infamous gate that reads "Arbeit Macht Frei" (translated to "Work will set you free"). We were surprised by Auschwitz’s infrastructure. Red brick barracks neatly aligned in spacious rows. It turns out that prisoners who were assigned to Auschwitz were considered lucky as the prison barracks were previously used for the Polish military (The real nightmare was 3 kilometers down the road at the Birkenau death camp). As we toured the barracks seeing the rooms full of the prisoners’ belongings; shoes, suitcases, clothes, hair, etc., the immensity of the carnage simply overwhelmed the senses. The most illuminating of all the exhibits was the Israeli barracks that documented the rise and fall of the Third Reich. Auschwitz, the Latvian Occupation museum and the Vilnius Jewish museum should be required study for all Americans, but especially those individuals who want to believe that fascism is not a deadly societal disease. After we returned by train back to Krakow we took a nap and found the local pool. The pool was horribly crowded "…with everybody doing a modified breast stroke swim with this kind of side kick that would nail you in the ribs every time you tried to pass. It was like kung-fu swimming. Linda noted that while she was in the women’s locker room wringing out her swimsuit, all the other females were sideways glancing at her as if she was crazy. That’s when she realized that she was the only one naked. Those wacky American girls, what will they think of next. After the swim we went to the Jewish quarter for some kosher food, beer and Yiddish music. It was incredible to come full circle in one day. From the depression of Auschwitz to the lively Jewish musicians belting out Yiddish music in the Jewish quarter of Krakow. The next day we went for another riverside run and later toured the Wawel Castle and museum overlooking Krakow. "We toured the Royal Chambers stuffed to the incredibly ornate ceilings with very old furniture and paintings. Then came my favorite museum, the Treasury & Armory. A child’s dream museum filled with full body armor, sabers and the most elaborate beer steins I’ve ever seen (OK so the last part may be my dream but what the hay)." That evening we planned our escape to Bratislava, Slovakia.

In Krakow we learned that buying an international train ticket was about 500% more expensive than taking a train to the Czech Republic border, walking across and catching another train to Bratislava. Apparently "…the only problem with walking across an Eastern European border are those pesky body cavity searches…but like I’ve always said ‘don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it!’" So on to Cieszyn (Polish & Czech Republic border town) it was with the giddy state of mind that only saving 500% on the cost of a train ticket can bring. We boarded the train only to miss the connection to Cieszyn. After a couple of hours we were back on track but now a little concerned that we may not be able to find the Czech Republic border. The concern was not warranted because "…there was literally a mass of humanity, all carrying impossible loads of consumer goods heading towards the border. Hauntingly similar to lemmings rushing towards the sea. Crossing was a breeze as we walked a total of one mile to save about $60 dollars" (which translates to accommodations, dinner, beer and entertainment for two days for two people in Poland). It was almost as if the border crossing was too easy, which portends only difficult things to come…and sure enough… We arrived in Bratislava at 18:20 on a Saturday night. Well it turns out that there is no way to cash travelers’ checks, no ATM’s or open banks for VISA cash advances. So with no money to catch the tram or bus we walked to the only budget hotel in town. Booked solid. Just as we are about to give up we met Kate from Poland also stuck in Bratislava. Fortunately she spoke Slovakian (aside from Polish and English) and we learned that there was a bus to Wien (Vienna) Austria. So she lent us money for the tram to the bus station, bought our tickets and a snack and voila, we are now in our 4^th country of the day. Once there we were greeted by Kate’s Iraqi boyfriend, Abdel, who graciously offers floorspace in his 400 square foot apartment in downtown Wien. "Abdel is an artist who had to leave Iraq for suspicious reasons and rates countries on the conditions of their prisons. Apparently, he spent a lot of time in numerous prisons, while fleeing Iraq to Austria to seek asylum. Kate is a Polish student whose grandfather survived 4 years at Auschwitz because he was an excellent tailor. Kate noted with pride that, under risk of torture and death, he helped 6 prisoners escape Auschwitz by supplying the escapees with German uniforms. Unfortunately, because of the escapees, about 200 people were rounded up and killed as a lesson to other prisoners contemplating escape. Our stay was filled with incredible stories and hospitality." The next day we checked into a hostel (Abdel’s apartment didn’t have shower facilities) and we toured the beautiful City with all of the conveniences of Western society. Like most European cities, Vienna is simply awe-inspiring with its fabulous architecture. After having dinner with Abdel and Kate, it was back to the hostel to plan our next assault on Eastern Europe…Budapest.

We were greeted at the Budapest train station by one room hawker after another. We settled on the cheapest double we could find; $14 per night. "The place looked every second of its 145 year old age but it was spacious and it had a TV! I had forgotten how addicting TV was. The reason suddenly occurred to me. TV moves at an enormously fast pace, much faster than life. It’s only logical that this fast pace hypnotizes the brain - whose main objective is input. TV provides input to more of the senses much faster than any other medium right now. As humans continue to become less physical and more mental, I can foresee how we will both love and hate virtual reality…but I digress." That night we walked all over the blessed place, approximately 8 miles in total, only to happen across a wonderful restaurant that served excellent Hungarian goulash. The next day we took the metro to the City park and found one of the world famous Budapest bath houses. There was a large pool for lap swimming at 26 degrees Celsius and a smaller pool for playing chess at 36 degrees Celsius. The place was set in an ivy columned outdoor setting that was just plain gorgeous. As I remembered from my trip in 1992, Budapest is a beautiful city complete with an unparalleled mixture of Western European and Turkish architecture, excellent wine (for about $1 per bottle) and food. Next stop, the border shuffle into Romania to avoid the infamous international train tariff.

Szeged is a quaint little town on the Hungarian/Romanian border. We had a day to kill before leaving at 6 a.m. the next morning. After renting a room with our mean spirited Haus Frau, it was off for a scenic 6 mile run along the river and through the local university. Afterwards, it was a meal and then off to bed to contemplate the next phase of our journey, Romania.

Romania seemed to be a bit ominous because the travel guidebooks (Let’s Go, Lonely Planet) did nothing but warn potential travelers of rampant dangers and difficulties. Now I had traveled through Mexico and Central America via motorcycle a little over a year ago so I wasn’t as concerned about someone else’s interpretation of danger, but I was traveling with my new wife. Linda didn’t have a whole lot of experience traveling in developing countries and was visibly upset. I did my best to calm her nerves and keep my own desire to protect her in check. Because the only way she was going to build confidence traveling in potentially dangerous places was to experience it first hand. We were both relieved to find the guidebooks were way off base. Romania was a wonderful country to visit.

The border crossing and finding the train station were basically uneventful. "We were surprised to discover that the Romanian language is considered to be a ‘Romance’ language and therefore was a seemingly eclectic mix of Spanish, Italian and French all rolled into one mouthful. After talking to a cab driver (note to self; don’t ever deal w/ Eastern European cab drivers or anyone else who speaks English for that matter) we bought, more likely than not, overpriced train tickets for the 5 ½ hour trip into the Transylvanian Mountains and the touristy town of Brasov. Upon arrival we were greeted by Romania’s version of the Energizer Bunny: Maria with her low key husband Grigg in tow. Maria took care of all of our questions, concerns and itinerary. She set us up in a nice furnished apartment 1 ½ miles from the old city center, told us about the best restaurants and what we should do with our spare time in her fair city. It was actually kind of a relief to have everything taken care of, probably the same kind of feeling passengers experienced when they met Julie on the ‘Love Boat’." After spending a quiet night in our apartment we sped off the next day to Bran Castle - the official home of Dracula. Apparently, upon seeing the Castle perched upon a rocky precipice, Bram Stoker was inspired to pen the famous fable. Of course this Castle wasn’t the home of the real Dracula, "Vlade the Impailor" but I couldn’t stop the urge to bear my canine teeth at every opportunity during the tour of the place. Afterward we took the bus back and stopped at a larger castle that was in ruin, Risnov. There were workers restoring the place and the Castle was officially closed. After bribing Nicholas, the grounds keeper, with the promise to buy a beer, we were allowed inside the crumbling castle walls. Even though Nicholas didn’t speak a lick of English he was a very informative and fun host. Once back at Brasov we explored the gorgeous old town nestled into opposing canyon walls. "We topped the day off by eating dinner at Café Transylvania paying prices only bloodsuckers could love." The next day we headed off to Poiania Brasov, a ski resort located 15 kilometers up the mountain from Brasov. Rumor had it that lift tickets were approximately $30 for a weekly lift ticket. Unfortunately there was no snow on the ground yet. We went for a very hilly 4 mile run and then a swim and sauna at the 4 star Hotel Aspen. Latter on that day we tried to buy tickets for Bucharest at the train station. "Of course Maria and Grigg were there, armed with tales of how horrible Bucharest was. They coerced…I mean convinced us that staying was in all of ours best interests." That night we found out that November 15^th was Romania’s 10^th anniversary of the revolution to overthrow the "Pig Man", Ceausescu (officially accomplished in 1989 with his and his wife’s execution). In commemoration of the event there was to be a free folkloric concert at the local theater. So being good North Americans we waited patiently at the fringes of the crowd that was beginning to build in size and urgency outside the theater doors. "When the doors finally opened we were awash in a sizable glob of humanity. Aside from the astonishing lack of regard for personal space (the old ladies were the worst offenders) we had fun cramming our way inside. It turned out that the rush at the doors was well founded as this turned out to be the concert of all folkloric concerts. Act after act would appear from behind the drab curtain to perform seemingly the same songs. At times the packed house would stand and sing in unison proudly waving the Romanian flag. It made me wish for such songs in the U.S. that could strike such an emotional cord or at least to be Romanian at that moment. Very touching display of Nationalism. Especially after everything these people had been through with the tortuous leadership of the ‘Pig Man’." Certainly was a powerful reminder of the indomitable human spirit. The next day (still hanging out in Brasov thanks to Maria) we took the first train to Sinaia, Romania’s ultimate ski location and home of the Peles Castle. While hoofing up to the castle from the train station we met a classical guitarist who plays for tips on the castle grounds. When we arrived at the castle we found it to be closed for renovation "…or so would they have you believe. After help from Guitar Man we crossed into the castle grounds. In the midst of trying to open a locked door it suddenly swung open and with hushed tones from the inhabitants, we were silently whisked inside. It turns out that for 30,000 lei (or $4.50 or 4 bottles of wine or a full course meal) we could visit the halls that weren’t under renovation for the exact price they charge all the time. So much for espionage. The palace was easily the most opulent structure that we’ve ever been privy to. Lavishly ornate, varying in design from Saxon to Turk, truly well worth the money. Next up was an exterior visit of the ‘Pig Man’s’ estate just up the hill from the palace. The ‘Pig Man’ was so coined by Guitar Man who seemingly could not reconcile Ceausescu’s tyrannical oppression of individuals human rights and his own desire to live in such opulence. Aside from an innate ability to label fascist dictators, the Guitar Man was a wonderful classical guitarist. The next day it was off to Bucharest.

The train ride to Bucharest took 3 hours. After deciding to take the next night train out to Sofia, Bulgaria we had the rest of the day to spend in what had been described to us as a ‘hell hole of a city’. "So we hit the City’s metro and proceeded to discover a wonderful mishmash of Soviet architectural behemoths nestle side by side with glorious baroque Christian buildings and Turkish Mosques all competing with each other to captivate your senses. The result was hour after hour of intriguing touring. Bucharest is surprisingly modern. The underground metro was easy to follow and very efficient. Strolling through the University grounds was a living history lesson and excellent food and beer could be had for next to nothing. We also found undoubtedly the best beer hall I’ve ever seen (and believe me when I say that I’ve seen a lot of ‘em). By the time our train was ready to depart late that night we felt foolish and somewhat guilty to have believed all the negativism from the guidebooks and other Romanians from Brasov. It’s like asking someone from Vermont who eats nothing but acorns and twigs what they think of New York City."

"As we departed the Bucharest train station tucked snugly away in our nicely equipped sleeping wagon we reflected on our wonderful visit to Romania. So it was with naïve contentment that we valiantly rode toward the Bulgarian border. It was a couple of hours of peace and quiet until we hit the border. As soon as the Border guard saw our U.S. passports he told me to follow him off the train and we strode directly up to the cashiers office. In severely broken English he said ‘Now you must pay grants tax of $44!’. I was dumbfounded. No one told us that Americans had to pay an entry tax into the country. We definitely knew that there was no visa requirements for Bulgaria. So I assumed that the border guards were on a revenue raising mission to pay for their kids new Air Jordans. So I defiantly responded ‘No, I will not pay one penny! I’d rather go back to Bucharest!’ Thinking that I was going to call their bluff I felt that arrogance would let them know of my resolve (at least it sounded good in theory). After some more posturing the border guard instructed me to get my bags and my wife off the train. Still thinking too much I complied. Eventually, it looked as if our train was getting ready to leave so I decided that a compromise was best. I showed the guard a $20 bill and said that it’s all I had. Still no dice. It was a very sad moment indeed to see our comfy sleeping cabin roll empty down the tracks towards Sofia. Well it turned out that the tax was legit and the border guards gave us our tourist cards that allow us to pay the tax when we exited the country. After changing money with a cab driver (I know, but we had no choice and besides he was very friendly and fun to talk with) we bought a ticket for the next train to Sofia. It turns out that the border guards spoke German so I started to converse with them about our travels. They turned out to be really nice guys and we all had a good laugh at my expense. In the wee hours of the morning the next train arrived. Instead of the creature comforts of our lost sleeping cabin we became uncomfortable creatures in a packed train with a broken window and indescribable cold. If Linda hadn’t pulled out her sleeping bag I’m convinced we would have frozen to death."

"Sofia is certainly not the nicest of cities that we have traveled to on this trip, probably one of the worst, OK, not probably, it was the worst City visited in terms of visual beauty, cleanliness, public transportation, friendliness of its people, historic sites, etc. But then again maybe we were still a little tainted from our border experience." After finding accommodations (no easy task), changing money (even harder) and gathering tourist information (next to impossible) we went back to our room to sleep the day away. The next day was spent figuring out a way to get out of the country without traveling through Yugoslavia. Backtracking across the Bulgarian border and through Romania was quickly vetoed. After a quick visit to the American consulate we found that Albania was not a good idea, what with their economy collapsing and all. The last resort was to fly back to Budapest. $274 later and ticket in hand, it was with newfound energy that we planned a two day excursion to some of Bulgaria’s most-out-of-the-way-and-difficult-to-get-to-locales (I know it sure seems so clear in retrospect but at the time it seemed like a good idea).

Melnik was one of these mysterious locales. Snuggled up against Greece, Melnik is famous for producing some of the Country’s most unique wines. It took 5 hours of one complicated connection after another. The trip was only confounded by the Bulgarian nuance of shaking their head from side to side to indicate an affirmative response and moving it up and down to say no. Needless to say, these gestures and the Cyrillic alphabet rendered us absolutely powerless to navigate our way across the country in an efficient manor but we did finally "…arrive in the middle of nowhere only to be greeted by wine cellar after wine cellar of fabulous wine, thrilling panoramic views and intriguing architecture. The wine cellars are carved into the sandstone foothills framing this enchanted village. Walking the cobblestoned village streets with nothing to do but eat and drink wine, which was a nice break from the usual pattern of walking paved city streets with nothing to do but eat and drink beer." The return trip from Melnik to Sofia was quite insane. Hundreds of people chasing one full bus after another in an attempt to find an empty seat. It took twelve hours to return to Sofia instead of the five hours it took to get down there. We could not wait to board the plane the next morning and escape to Budapest.

"At the Sofia airport we boarded the plane (after paying our, now up to $46, tourist tax) we couldn’t help but notice six or seven middle-aged, road weary passengers all with long hair and sunglasses. They took their seats all around us. It didn’t take long for us to surmise their identity. Since the beginning of the trip from Tallinn, Estonia to Sofia, Bulgaria we’d been deluged with White Snake (the 80’s rock group) posters on every nook, cranny and light pole. Could it be that these guys were…WHITE SNAKE! EEEIII! The suspense was too much for Linda to take, so with school girl naiveté and groupie composure, she asked ‘who are you guys?’ and a strained and tired voice replied ‘we’re with a band called White Snake, have you ever heard of us? While Linda was smitten with stardust I was trying in vain to remember what songs these guys were famous for. Anyway it turns out that one of the band members was thinking of moving to Oregon and we had a pleasant conversation of home with him. Later he offered complimentary tickets to the show that night in Budapest. We politely declined, explaining that we had an overnight train to catch to Munich."

"A quick note about traveling with your spouse; When you’re used to traveling alone and making all the decisions it is of vital importance that you divvy up responsibilities so that each spousal unit can feel as if they’re contributing to the team effort. Even though one spouse may have more experience than the other. That being said I believe that a trip like this is something that all newlyweds should experience, if for no other reason than to go through the hardships and rewards together. I believe that the more life experiences that you go through as a couple, as opposed as individual entities, the stronger the bond of the relationship. To date I think we have gone where very few newly weds have gone before and we’re still smelling like fresh baked cinnamon rolls."

Once we arrived in Budapest "…it was a piece of cake orienteering through a city that we’d been in before. With backpacks in tow we hit the metro for the train station. One wrong turn later we were busted by the ticket police for $5 (good enough for two excellent bottles of wine) for not having a valid ticket. After that we were hounded by a couple of roving bands of pick pocket families complete with Mom and kids all in on the act. Wearing backpacks in the Budapest metro will bring you a lot of attention from both sides of the law."

The overnight train and a quick connection later brought us to Freising, home of Matt (formerly with Portland Brewing Company) and surrogate Frau; Tina. "It was great seeing familiar faces and to recover from the Beast of the East - Bulgaria. Plus Bavarian weissbier just can’t be beat. The next two days was spent enjoying the small town of Freising and Matt and Tina’s hospitality and traditional Bavarian American home cooking." We were planning on visiting again later so it was off to the Hauptbahnhoff and another night train to Slovenia.

We arrived at 6 a.m. and "…dilly-dallying until the City woke up we stored our luggage and strolled through the town in search of the tourist office only to be greeted by an enchanting City with breathtaking architecture. After finding a room with a landlady as old as the hilltop medieval castle that overlooks the City, I was quite amazed at the coziness and stress free environment of the place. It was not at all what we expected. Ljubljana’s standard of living almost rivals that of Germany. The next day we took a walking tour of the City. It only confirmed our suspicions that Ljubljana was easily one of Europe’s best kept secrets. It does only have a population of 300,000 homogeneous inhabitants so its not completely fair to compare it to some of the larger metropolises that we’ve visited. After the tour we went for a swim in a very modern facility. The lap swim was basically a free for all with swimmers, dog paddlers and floaters all vying for the same patch of open water, but somehow we got in 2,000 meters. Afterward we found this wonderful American style brew pub no more than 100 meters from the train station. With a full day and a full belly it was off to dreamland and the morning train to Zagreb, Croatia."

"After a short 2 ½ hour train ride we arrived at the Zagreb train station ideally situated right on a glorious park central. It was easy to lock up the bags and start exploring what appeared to be a grand old City. On our way to the pedestrian center we, along with a couple of other people, crossed the street against the light. Right as we stepped onto the curb we heard screeching tires and turned just in time to see this stout old lady of at least 60 years get pummeled by a tiny red sports coup. Because the car had a low front end, the initial impact took the lady’s legs out from under her and with a mighty ‘THUNK’ she face planted on the hood which propelled her 15 to 20 feet backwards. It was an eerie, otherworldly site to see her fly through the air, kind of like a sack of potatoes being tossed off the truck at your local farmers’ market. As we stood staring in disbelief at the clump of brown coat and gray hair lying all crumpled up on the side of the street an even more unbelievable thing happened. This seemingly lifeless blob slowly shook itself off and stood up and became a human being again. Except for her disheveled gray hair she really looked no worse for wear. A gruesome reminder of the perils of European streets. Cars are always careening around every corner. That, coupled with the fact that tourists are worth 100 points, make navigating the winding streets a hazardous venture for the unwary traveler. Anyway we continued on our way and took a walking tour of the upper and lower City of Zagreb. We took in the historical City Museum and had a wonderful day. Maybe it was that we had a lot of time to kill, or maybe we were still giddy from the beers we had for lunch and supper, or maybe we were still moved by the beauty and immensity that is Zagreb. Whatever it was that caused us to make our next decision, it certainly wasn’t of clear mind… we went to see ‘Mr. Bean’ the movie at the local theater (English with Croatian subtitles). The only redeeming value of the experience was that it gave the dogs (feet) a much needed break." Zagreb is dangerously close to Western European standards. The only telltale signs of Eastern European influence were places like the familiar ‘Golden Arches’ of the local restaurant…no not McDonalds but ‘Mark Ronalds’. A hilarious knock off of the fast food giant. We found numerous examples of cheap imitations of the real thing all throughout Eastern Europe but certainly this was our favorite. (runner-up honors go to the vests emblazoned with the ‘Indiana Hawks -Top Member Club’ complete with Chicago Blackhawks Indian mascot.) We really didn’t see any evidence of the recent conflict with the Croatian Serbs.

The overnight train was very crowded and delivered us unto Split at the ungodly time of 5:47 a.m. "Extremely groggy we were expecting another trying experience in finding affordable accommodations (the single most prevalent cause of stress on the trip so far). That’s when Jacob, seemingly descended from the heavens above, greeted us in a Half-German, Half-English, Half-Croatian dialect ‘Voud you like a sleeping room?’ With tears of joy and relief we heartily responded ‘Boy voud vee ever!’ The next 20 minutes were spent following this stranger through the dark labyrinth of streets to a small apartment just outside of the town center. To describe Split is very difficult. Its like nothing else we’d ever seen. Basically its a 1,700 year old Roman palace with every nook and cranny stuffed with Roman ruins, eclectic shops, restaurants and 1,300 year old private residences. All this situated on a beautiful aqua marine bay lined with palm trees. After sleeping off the overnight train blues we ventured out to explore the continuously amazing city center. The tiny streets and winding layout would reveal one surprise after another. After a heady dose of sensory overload we headed back to Jacob’s place and waxed philosophy till the wee hours and looked forward to more explorations the next day." The next day we went for the most scenic run yet. A gorgeous 6 mile route around a mountain that frames the old town. Now, we hadn’t done much in the way of cardiovascular work, so the last mile of the run was a sorta shuffle kind of thing but the mountain and ocean views made it all worthwhile. The rest of the day was spent via city bus to a 2,000 year old Roman ruin named Solano and a beautiful island city named Troger. While picnicking on the island city it suddenly hit us! Our trip was just about over. It was very sad but it was also with a feeling of great adventure that we returned to bid Jacob and his wife adieu and climb aboard the overnight bus. After numerous stops, we arrived in Trieste, Italy 13 hours later. We immediately caught the next train to Venice, Italy.

"Once we arrived in Venice after 15 hours of travel we were trashed mentally, physically and spiritually. The realization that we were at the end of our journey along with the lack of sleep and personal hygiene only seemed to deepen the depression. We were banking on the fact that the City of Venice would snap us out of our funk. The uniqueness and beauty of the City was highly motivating. The City was nothing like I expected (Linda had been here before on a previous trip to Europe) maybe its because of the thousands of other cities scattered around the world that lay claim to be the ‘Venice of …Indonesia, Timbuktu, the Sahara, etc.’ all because they may have a tiny sewage canal running through town. If I could quote the great Ray Charles, who so aptly quipped ‘This was the Real Thing, Baby!’ (Sometimes its scary how commercialized we Americans are.) We did notice the effects of global warming and the foundation sinking into the Sea. At high tide, San Marcos square (probably one of the most renowned locations on Earth) was under a foot of water. A temporary wood plank boardwalk was set up to help the hordes of tourist walk on water as they viewed the holy shrines of the square. About an hour later the water receded with the tide and the hordes came back down to dry land. At this rate Venice should make an excellent scuba dive location in about a hundred years." Although we had a blast touring this thrilling labyrinth of a city we couldn’t help but feel like something was missing…aha!…a shower. We headed back to the train station where we stored our bags and four bucks later-voila’ we were transformed into, well, cleaner smelling tourist and highly motivated to get back out there and eat some lasagna. Later that night it was back on the overnight train back to Munich and onto Prague.

Just a mere 16 hours later we emerged in Prague ready to partake in all things Pragian. Namely drinking some of the best pilsner beer on Earth for about .50 cents a half liter. But also Prague is famous for its hilltop castle, Charles bridge and old town square. A trip to Europe could never be complete without a visit to arguably the most intriguing city in Europe. We were met at the train station by Philip. A friendly and informative room-to-let person. He also was the most entrepreneurial person that we’d met in Eastern Europe. He informed us that Prague had around 60 million visitors in the past year. Making it the most touristed site in all of Europe. We spent the next two days soaking up the sights and suds trying to take it all in before the journey ended. Afterwards it was another overnight back to Freising and Matt and Tina’s place.

It was nice to return to our home away from home after two fairly tough overnight journeys. After some sightseeing with Matt we tentatively planned to do something Tina remarkably hadn’t done before; see a soccer match at the 1972 Olympic stadium. I was under the impression that Germany would kick you out of the country if you hadn’t seen a soccer match by your 1^st birthday. Anyway, the next night we took the commuter train to the stadium and bought the cheapest tickets available (~$25) on the 10 yard line but still an excellent view. The home team wasn’t performing to the expectations of the shivering fans in the stands but it was fun listening to Tina interpret the insults tossed down onto the playing field by the disgruntled patrons. What I assumed to be slanderous and unprintable epithets, according to Tina, it was nothing more than memorable quotes such as: "’You dirt bear!’ ‘You’re nothing but an Aardvark!’ ‘Get up you lazy dog!’ It felt more like we were at the city zoo much less a soccer match! A lot of fun. The next day we went for a swim in the Olympic pool and quaffed a few Weissbiers and large pretzels at the Hofbrauhaus. Probably one of the most unique things about Freising is not the centuries old Monastery perched atop the hill overlooking the City, nor the University specializing in brewing beer, but the ‘American House’ all lit up with Christmas lights. Apparently, lighting up the house during the holiday season is not much of a Holiday tradition. There was always a crowd around the house taking in the Americana. After bidding a fond Auf Wiedersehen to our hosts it was onto London, via Paris and San Sebastian, Spain.

We arrived in Gay Paris on the overnight train rested and ready to take in some culture and really, is there a better place to see the sights? We quickly oriented ourselves, pick up some train info to San Sebastian and then caught the underground close to the Eiffel tower to begin our quest for rude Parisians. We walked all over this glorious city called by many as the "Paris of…ah, well…Paris." From the Eiffel Tower, to the Arc de Triumph, to the Loeuvre, to Notre Dame, to the Latin Quarter, we met one friendly Parisian after another. Come to think of it my visit to Paris over six years ago produced the same results. Come to think of it the only rude people I’ve met in Paris were loud, obnoxious Americans. It was at this point that we first started to miss home. Next stop, the tapas of Spain.

After another not so comfy overnight train we made some easy connections to San Sebastian. San Sebastian is a town of incredible natural beauty and home to the most Tapas bars in the world (according to the local tourist brochure). The primary reason that we were heading the wrong direction from London was because we had a couple extra days on our Eurail pass to use up and even more days to kill. And besides we were itching to speak some Spanish after all the frustration and embarrassment of not being able to communicate with the locals in all the other countries. When we arrived at the train station I went out to look for someone hawking a room for let. I was a little tentative because I wasn’t sure that I would be able to recall my Spanish speaking ability. But when a little old lady approached me and asked if I wanted a room, not only did I understand every word, Linda and I ended up in a very drawn out conversation with her covering conversations that only a-little-old-lady-from-Spain-with-a-little-too-much- time-on-her-hands could cover. We spent the next two days relaxing, eating Tapas (tiny little appetizers sitting on the bar) and drinking wine. Still, most of our thoughts were centered around the fact that we were going to be leaving soon and all the sadness and introspection associated with the adventure that we’ve had together. But onward and upward we go as we prepare to make it to London the very next day.

Eighteen hours of travel by train, ferry, bus and car delivered us to a South African halfway house/ international youth hostel in Clapham. We were planning on flying out the next day so it didn’t really matter where we stayed…right?…wrong. An untimely fire at Heathrow airport effectively ruined our chances to get back home for 4 more days. No problem! We changed hostels (which enabled us to be gracious hosts to the various insects feeding off us during the night) and traveled all around London. Dining at fabulous Indian restaurants, touring by tube, and hitting the hot tourist spots such as the Tower of London. We decided that London had to be the most expensive City on Earth followed closely by Stockholm, Helsinki and Moscow. We were finally able to use our replaced United Airline’s companion passes to escape Europe with heavy heart in tow.

The trip lasted approximately 9 weeks. We reached our goal of a $75 per day budget. We definitely exceeded our expectations of how exciting the trip would be. We both came away with fond memories and an increased ability to rely on each other. And if I could quote a passage from my 1992 Western European journal; "Though this journey is over, a new one commences. ‘Cause travel never ends if you can climb your mind’s fences."

We hope that this rambling discourse finds you in good health and fine spirit.

So long from Portland and keep in touch.