46888 Blog Feed: backpackernews 2008-10-09 10:10:53 backpackernews Your e-mail address 161215 2008-10-09 10:17:31 Click the following link to find phone numbers of VISA Card, Mastercard, Barclays, Citibank, American Express and Embassies in Europe when you had your credit cards, Traveler cheques or Passport stolen.

www.easy-backpacking.co.nr  you´ll find it under EMERGENCY DIRECTORY
]]> 139525 2008-08-18 10:08:09
We all know brioche, the sort of pastry from France. Many Sicilians use this dipping it into the sour tasting lemon or other fruit Granita and enjoy this on a hot day for breakfast. Try it, most bars and cafeterias serve this kind of breakfast.



Granita (Ices)
Outside Italy the lemon version of this delightfully refreshing treat is the best known flavor, but in Sicily you'll find traditional Sicilian flavors like strawberry, mulberry, chocolate, peach and almond. Nowadays, there is even pineapple and kiwi fruit flavor. Like gelato (ice cream), granita probably traces its origins in Sicily to Roman times, though it was popularized by the Arabs. Some like it with a lot of whipped cream on top

Ingredients: One cup chopped and crushed fruit (including juice), one cup of white granulated refined sugar, four cups of water.

Preparation: Chop and crush the fruit. An electric blender is practical for this. Heat the sugar in two cups of water over medium-low flame for a few minutes, until the mixture is completely liquid and the sugar dissolved. Remove from heat and place into a bowl. Allow to cool. Add the remaining water and the crushed fruit. Freeze for about forty minutes, then remove to thoroughly mix the granita with a large fork or other heavy utensil before replacing it in the freezer. As its name implies, the dessert should be "granulated." Continue to remove it to quickly mix it and replace it in the freezer for further freezing every twenty minutes. The preparation phase should require about two hours, depending on the temperature in the freezer. (In Italy there are special machines for making granita.) You want to avoid the granita forming into heavy lumps or a block. The texture should resemble grains or flakes. The mixing method is the most important phase of preparation, as the granita should be granular but not liquid.
]]> 138804 2008-08-16 13:43:23



La Vara

Among the most important and popular religious festivals and rites of the city of Messina is without doubt the Vara, a picturesque and fascinating procession that takes place on 15 August, in memory of the Assumption of Mary into Heaven. Instituted in the fifteenth or sixteenth century, this great celebration requires massive preparation and involves a good part of the city folk.


The "machine" used for the procession is very sophisticated, perhaps the work of F. Maurolico; the structure, with a pyramid shape, 15 m. high and weighing 8 tons, has complex devices and mechanisms inside that, worked by hand, enable its various movements. At the base of the Vara is portrayed the tomb of Our Lady surrounded by the Apostles, further up are the angels, bearing olive branches and rotating together with the sun and moon.


Even higher are cherubs, the celestial sphere surrounded by the zodiac, and at the top the figure of Christ, who holds our Holy Mother in the palm of his right hand, now assumed into Heaven.



Up to the nineteenth century in place of the statues now used live characters were arranged on the Vara, children and youths from four to fourteen years old, and this theatrical votive litter, mounted on large steel runners, was dragged around the city streets by thousands of worshippers, to the cry of "Long Live Mary!", exactly as occurs nowadays, in an atmosphere of deep devotion.

 

 

 

 



]]> 136933 2008-08-12 11:32:09


Paestum

The Greeks found a spot in southern Italy while strolling around the eastern Mediterranean and founded a city they called “Poseidonia”. Not caring about the already settled locals, they started building a city and just north of it a sanctuary. That happened 600 B.C.


After the Greeks came the Romans, naming the already existing city “Paestum” and the remains of both cultures can nowadays be found here. Ruins and well preserved parts of temples (one of them was in honor of Neptune), a museum and a little basilica invite for a trip back in time. Who doesn´t have the chance on going to Greece and see some of the ancient history, Paestum, 90 minutes south of Naples is a good spot to catch up.


Paestum was rediscovered in the 16th and 17th century by writers and poets, but the real rediscovery started in the first half of the 18th century when writers, poets and artists like Goethe, Shelley, Canova and Piranesi began to visit the renowned Greek city.
Today, Paestum offers beaches, hotels and many restaurants and the month of August is the busiest.


]]> 136930 2008-08-12 11:20:28


Back to the roots of hosteling and backpacking, La Lanterna hostel in Agropoli offers basic accommodation for a very good price in a friendly environment.


Close to Paestum and its Roman and Greek ruins (the bus takes you there in 15 minutes), the travelers find a very relaxing hostel with a nice garden to relax. Besides sleeping, it makes also a good base to spend some days at the local beach (2 min. walk) or even do trips to Salerno, Pompeii or as far as Naples. With 12.50€ for a dorm bed, you can´t go wrong.


Breakfast is basic like at most Italian YHA hostels, there is a washing machine, a common room with TV, a fridge (no water melons allowed) and enough common space to sit down and read a book. Bathrooms and rooms are very clean compared to other hostels close to the
beach.


Plenty of cheap restaurants around the area along the beach make sure you are not going to bed hungry.


Overall, this is a perfect stop on the way to Sicily and to recharge your travel batteries.



]]> 134072 2008-08-06 09:08:04
<a href="http://www.ipligence.com/webmaps/s/?u=b54af6bca730cb3400c777ece14dfcf3&color=1&a=year"><img src="http://www.ipligence.com/webmaps/m/?u=b54af6bca730cb3400c777ece14dfcf3&size=medium&color=1&a=year" alt="ip-location" border="1"></a>


<a href="http://www.ipligence.com/webmaps/s/?u=72f83cf4e808ff037037efba3251aef6&color=1&a=year"><img src="http://www.ipligence.com/webmaps/m/?u=72f83cf4e808ff037037efba3251aef6&size=medium&color=1&a=year" alt="ip-location" border="1"></a>
]]> 132902 2008-08-04 07:34:00

“Asta la Noche!” were the last words, Maria heard her husband say. Then he left the apartment and went for work.
She still stood in the kitchen, preparing a snack for their two children before they would leave for school, when he rushed down the stairs of the apartment building.
Jose Miguel was late again when he left the house. Too nice were the moments he could spend with his family in the morning. The time together during breakfast was the only moment to ask his children, Marta and Juan, about happenings at school and how they did spent there off time after they came home. And when did he have the time to enjoy Maria’s home made tortillas for Breakfast.
It was 7.24 am when Jose left the house through the entrance door, turning right on the sidewalk,
Walking to his car he parked the evening before a street down from his house.
That evening he returned home late, after a long meeting in his office, discussing the security procedures during the upcoming opening of a museum in Madrid, which would be attended by the Royal Family. It was late and he did not find a spot to park his car in front of the house he lived.
Now he rushed down the street, closing the buttons of his uniform. His mind still focused on the breakfast he just had. He could still smell the fresh coffee, hear the children’s voices. But he had to remind himself that he was running late.
7.26 am, in 30 minutes he had to be in his office. He turned left into Calle Pedro Barreda and crossed the street. While walking the last meters to his Seat, he reached into his uniform pocket, taking out the car keys. He unlocked the door, entered the car and placed his case on the seat to his right. Then he reached to the door handle and pulled the door to close it.
It was 7.28 am when Jose Miguel Reques put the keys into the ignition and turned them to the right. He thought about his wife Maria, his children Marta and Juan and about ……
You could hear the explosion through the streets of Madrid.


II

It was one of these normal mornings, on one of these normal working days for the people of Madrid. And like every morning, this one too was a special one for Mark Russell. He loved the city since he came here the first time about 6 months ago.
He left the hotel, which stood in the Calle Gran Via and made his way down to the Plaza del Sol where he usually took his breakfast in one of the cafés.
Of course, the breakfast at the hotel would have been for free and the variety more pleasant, but he loved to watch Madrid waking up during the morning, having a Café con Leche, a fresh pressed orange juice and a Spanish Tortilla. It was a routine, that started with leaving the hotel, buying the International Herald Tribune at a newspaper stand at El Corte Ingles and ended by finding an empty seat in one of the cafés.
No he sat at one of the tables inside, nearly leaning against the window that faced the Plaza del Sol, sometimes looking into the newspaper, sometimes watching the people, who passed by the café on their way to work or too, trying to find an empty seat in a café.
The Herald Tribune, an international paper published by the Washington Post and the New York Times, was the only Morning lecture Mark cared about. And if he would not be able to find an issue of it in the morning, coffee, juice and tortilla wouldn’t taste as good and the awakening of Madrid would not be interesting to him at all. And this rule did not exist for Spain only.
The way of reading the newspaper was too, a never broken routine. Starting with the last pages, he worked his way through the latest results in sport, then through the financial part, then through the headlines of the worlds news.
This morning, the sports pages didn’t give away anything interesting, even the hockey season was in mid term and the European Soccer leagues had half of their season games played.
Microsoft had been sued again and the stock markets all around the world were undecided in moving up or down.
The world news didn’t mention anything worth reading, besides some election results of some third world countries. And one article about the now 18 month long truce of the ETA, the Basque group, fighting for an independent Country. What a blessing for Spain. Euskadi at askatasuna hadn’t launched any attacks since 18 months. No people killed by car bombs. No business buildings destroyed. It seemed, that the mass protests in the cities of the country had their impact on the Basque fighters. Perhaps they realized now, that there would be a peaceful way of, that of peaceful words instead of bombs, to get an independent Basque country, or at least, some way of independence. Not really a political way, but one of communication.
Mark ordered another coffee while he observed the busy place in front of the café. The sun sent its first rays through the streets of Madrid. More wasn’t possible, to high had the Madrilènes built their houses at that part of the city. Only in a couple of hours would the sun shine fully onto the Plaza del Sol.
The waitress brought him the coffee and the bill. He paid with a 2,000 Peseta note and emptied the obligatory bag of sugar into the cup of coffee. Mark stirred the coffee while reading an article about the “Dry Foot/Wet Foot Policy” of the American Government to prevent further Cuban immigration when suddenly an explosion …….
Without moving his head, Mark looked at the people who just seconds ago were rushing across the Plaza. Now it seemed like somebody pressed the Pause Button of a DVD Player and one could look at every single person standing on the Square. But it wasn’t a DVD Players picture. People stood there, frozen, shocked, and in fear. One could see the horror in their faces. They looked at each other, wordless asking, who now, after 18 months of truce, was the first victim, again.
Mar Russell shook his head in disbelieve. He folded his newspaper, sipped a last time on his coffee, got up from the table and left the café. He looked at his watch, it was 7.29 am.
In front of the café, he entered a taxi whose driver obviously still stood under shock. He didn’t even hear Mark entering the car. Only when Mark touched the drivers right shoulder, the man recognized his presence. Mark leaned back in the back seat and said “Calle Nuñez de Balboa. El Embachada de Canada por favor!”



]]> 132898 2008-08-04 07:29:58
What do baseball, tomatoes and a small Spanish town with name of Buñol have in common?

Nothing, you should think, but on one day of each year, Buñol, which lies about 25 kilometers west of Valencia, changes into a red colored tollhouse.

On this day, it is always the last Wednesday in August, the count of visitors raises up to 30,000, which is six times more then the towns population.

When I visited Valencia the first time, friends told me, that it would be close to the end of August, and that there could be only one reason for me to be here, visiting the city of the Fallas, “La Tomatina!”

Well, my Spanish wasn’t that good at the time, but I understood, that it had something to do with tomatoes. Good but, never were my thoughts that right.

Let me tell you something. After my visit to Buñol, I could not eat, smell or look at anything containing tomatoes for about a month. No Spaghetti Bolognese, no tomatoes with mozzarella, nothing that was red.

You can reach Buñol very easy by train from Valencia. There arrived, it is a short walk from the train station to the center of town. It really is interesting, seeing 30,000 people, trying to squeeze
themselves into the center of a small town. On the other hand it is amazing, how many Americans, Canadians, Australians and travelers from other parts of the world take the sentence “When close to Buñol, than a must!” so serious. Funny enough, I haven’t seen any Spanish people trying to get to the center. Either, travel guides are rare in Spain, or they already knew about the chaos, that was about to happen.

All owners of the buildings in the center of town had their houses covered with huge plastic sheets. It looked like, that the whole town was going to undergo a major renovation. My friends told me, that those sheets were to protect the houses and that the owners had left Buñol for the day. Christo would have loved the place.

When a couple of drunken English bumped into my back and after a travel guide reading Texan stepped onto my left foot, I understood that escape

After reaching the center of town we positioned ourselves. At the lower part of the square, if you can call the being squeezed in between thousands of tourists a positioning. Now I was introduced to the procedure that would be held during the next 60 minutes.

When the clock would strike 12, 5 trucks, filled to the top with ripe tomatoes, would slowly drive through the center of the square and unload there goods. From that moment on, everybody is allowed to through around tomatoes at everyone.

“WOW!” I thought, “One hour!”
While I tried to figure out, how many tomatoes would fit onto 5 trucks, my eyes searched for that Texan with his travel guide. He an I, 120 tons of tomatoes. High Noon! Now, I was sheriff in town.
What I was worried about now, was, that the position I held at that moment, was too far away from the actual happening. Too far away from the tomatoes. At the fist stroke of the bell, I decided to leave the wall of a house I was leaning against and make my way towards the middle of the square.

This thought was easier than the task itself, because 1,000 Gary Coopers were trying the same. After 10 meters I gave up. Squeezed in and deafened by the hysteric screams of the people around me, I decided not to surrender the couple of square centimeters I just conquered. I would wait for one or two tomatoes, finding their way to me.

When the first truck came in sight , releasing its load, I gave up hope, to be able to thank the Texan for not being polite and excusing his misstep. All were having fun. All in a 10 meter radius of the truck. When the second one came in sight, the situation changed dramatically. If I really would have been Gary Cooper and if there wouldn’t have been so many people around me, I would have been able to take cover behind one of those wooden barrels in front of the saloon. Or, I would have jumped onto my horse carriage and driven home, with Grace Kelly.

But now I had to watch, how hundreds of tomatoes were airborne, making their way towards me and my neighbors. It seemed like that Texan found help in his American fellows and every Yankee chose me as a target.

Of course, my neighbors, or let me call them now, comrades, were in the same situation.
The first tomato hit my left shoulder, the second my left cheek. At this moment I hated my plan, giving up that save spot in front of the house. Only one thought kept me moving. Retreat! If there wasn’t a barrel I could hide behind, at least a couple of hundred bodies and a stone wall between me and the happening in the center of the square.

Two minutes and a few hits on the back of my head later I reached the plastic covered fortress.

One should think that the first hit of a tomato to my head must have reduced my ability of thinking drastically. As everyone knows, a wall gives you cover when you stand behind it. In front, well…

At this point of the story I’d like to mention, that baseball is Americas sport number one. Fathers show their sons how to pitch even before they register them at university. That means at the tender age of 12 months.
From that moment on an American child throws with everything that has the size of a baseball at everything that is worth targeting.

Now there I was. My friends all out of sight. I looked left and right. This also was the combination of hits at the wall behind me, followed by a shower of red liquid raining down on me.

Gary Cooper was gone. Far, far away on a pick nick with Grace. At his spot now stood a roman legionnaire who was surrounded by the inhabitants of an unconquerable Gallic village in the north of France and who was about to face the beating of his life. Tomatoes came flying towards that wall from all directions. Some finding a person, some hitting the wall and some falling to pieces in midair, raining down on the people as ketchup.

It was easy to filter out the Americans in the bulk of participators. With a tomato in their hands, they stood on an imaginary baseball field, checking the situation, aimed and threw the ripe fruit exactly the same way, a professional pitcher of the Boston red Sox would do it during the last and so important Inning of the World Series.
Bang!! And again, a hit victim wished having never heard of Buñol or at least, finding a family pack of Aspirin in his pocket.

I repeat. 120 tons of tomatoes, one hour and more Baseball professionals than the Major League could ever handle.

At one a clock you could hear a loud bang. The sign for the truce that would last for one year. A feeling of relief, followed by headache. Only then you realize how the whole place has changed.
Imagine the area of two soccer fields and the circumstance, that up to your ankles, you are standing in tomato paste. Thousands of people standing there, from head to toes covered with ketchup. Now, after the hour of the red battle, all of them tried to make their way home.

A slippery task. Keep in mind, that this happen at the end of August during midday, when the sun is pounding down its rays on you. A smelly situation. You fell like a hotdog in a ketchup bath. The organizers of this Fiesta prepared showers at the end of the town on a big parking area. About 100 meters of water pipe, placed on poles and releasing cold water out of the pipe every meter. The biggest open air shower in Spain.

But the problem is, that you need a special treatment for getting tomato seeds out of your ears and nose. Means, into the train, back to Valencia, down to the beach and into the water and dipping and washing and dipping and washing and…
It took me some days and showers in the morning when I stopped finding seeds after I got out of the bathroom.

End








]]> 132893 2008-08-04 07:25:12



Paestum isn´t only known for its Greek and Roman ruins. Since the 12th century, the area is producing some of the best mozzarella, produced from the milk of buffalos. Locals started to cultivate the big animals and local farms and dairies produce what will end up on pizzas, in salads or elsewhere in the Italian cuisine.



The word mozzarella comes from “mozzo”, which means cut or chopped off.
Mozzarella is a typical fresh cheese made from buffalo`s full-cream milk. It has a round shape, a porcelain white color and a slightly elastic consistency in the first 8 to 10 hours. Mozzarella is only called the cheese weighing 200 to 600gr, all weighing less is a “bocconcino” (little bite).



The transformation of buffalo’s milk into mozzarella has always preserved its original characteristics. Producers can be found in Paestum and you can buy small cheeses and try them on the spot. A nice change of taste is the “mozzarella affumicata” or smoked mozzarella. While there, have a little tour through the dairy, the people are happy to show you how mozzarella is made.




]]> 125088 2008-07-18 09:34:47
Well, in 99 I had a rental car and drove around the Normandy in the north of France, the Lets go guide on my side. One day I came into Caen and my book told me that there is a hostel. I drove that street up and down, trusting the guide. Three times I past the address given to me. I could not find the hostel. Affraid of not understanding a word I pulled into a gas station, walked in and, big surprise, the guy spoke English. Asking him, where the youth hostel is, he gave me a weird look and said, "That burned down 4 years ago!" Guess the look in my face was as weird as his when I read that my gukde book was up to date.

Some weeks later, I stayed in a hostel in Barcelona and, "Hurray", a young lady stayed in the same room telling me, that she is traveling Europe, updating the Lets go guide book. I didn´t ask too many questions but thought if I a can come along to Figueres the next day to see the Dali museum. She agreed and I thought I might learn a thing or two.

Well, I did learn one thing. That's that the young lady from Berkley University had no idea how to get a regional train ticket out of the ticket machine.
OOPS! Now I asked questions. And I did not like the answers. Not giving away the secrets of how Lets go got all the information, (Or most of it) I never touched that guide book again.

You ask how I come up with that story? Easy!
Staying at an Italian hostel I discovered a letter hanging open at the board. Sender is Lets go, receiver the management of the hostel. It says that Lets go is congratulating the hostel for its outstanding work and for satisfying guests and Lets go users.
Also, Lets go felt sure enough to send them the "2008 by Lets go recommended" sticker, asking the hostel management kindly to place it at their door. There are two now, 2007 and 2008 and my guess is that it is more some kind of advertising for Lets go than any kind of "The Hostels Oscar"

The funny thing is that I stayed at this hostel for 2 nights, to write about Rimini and the overcrowded beaches (Don´t know how I deserved this asignment, someone must hate me), and so I did a check through on the hostel itself, too.

BUT, the first reason I am writing this is, that after checking the "Lets go Website", I could not hold back.

The Italy section tells the traveler under the section "Essantials" some thing about driving in Italy. I will copy that part into the story here, because I guess after this blog is published, Let go will set it right.

Driving: Vehicles drive on the left but pass on the right.

www.letsgo.com/travel/italy

Either that Berkley student who wrote this was drunk as hell or else.

Fact is, when you drive on the left side of the road in Italy two things happen. Either you kill yourself or you end up in a wheelchair for the rest of your life.

Its not the only big mistake done by Lets go, but what the heck, Lets go calls itself a travel bible, and we all now, you can't argue with higher powers.


to be continued with the review on the hostel Lets go awarded with their "Sticker"

Quote from the "Lets go" website:

 "For 50 years we have published the world's favorite travel guides, written entirly by students and updated every year. With pen and notebook in hand and a few changes of underwear stuffed in our backpacks, we spend months roaming the globe in search of travel bargains."

Guess, besides underwear some of these students should have packed up their brains aswell.

]]> 124547 2008-07-17 06:05:09



To be honest, the hike from Porto Venere to Cinque Terre can be exausting. Depending how far you want to go, and on the amount of time you got, you could start in Porto Venere and end up 12 hours later in Levanto, just north of the 5 towns. In between you will most likely curse the person who wrote this. And then, when you have done it and you look at the photos you shot all the way, you will proudly raise your chest and say "I´ve done it!"



Hiking from sea level up to almost 516 meters and stop at the "Colle de Telegrafo" you will come along vineyards, rocky paths, and a most beautiful scenery before dropping down to the first town of Cinque Terre, Riomaggiorre. Then you follow the "Lover´s Lane" and hike through Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza and the last of the 5, Monterosso.

If you got the time, or if you don´t want to do the whole hike in one day, there are plenty of B&B, hotels and else to rest and lay your head overnight in one of the mentioned towns.



Enjoy the hike, take enough water with you and be careful when the paths are wet! And please don´t curse the author too many times ;-)
]]> 124541 2008-07-17 05:43:12



Like Cinque Terre, Porto Venere was made a World Heritage Site by the UNESCO in 1997. While the "5 Towns" of Cinque Terre obviously had a master plan for advertising all around the world (each stone of a newly built wall was engraved with the name of a sponsor from the United States paying a few bucks. After years many Americans, not trusting that the Italians used the money for building that wall, traveled to Cinque Terre wanting to see the stone with their name engraved.), Porto Venere stayed behind, probably not wanting to be the sixth town of "Sei Terre".



Lucky visitors! As beautiful as the other towns, but not completely surrounded by rocks and cliffs, Porto Venere presents itself with colorful houses, a nice marina, an old castle and a little church (still housing parts of a temple, dedicated to the goddess Venus) from where you can overlook the coast of Cinque Terre. Used as a harbor by the romans on their way to France and the Iberian peninsula, it still has its charm. The neighboring island of Palmaria is a nice spot to relax and enjoy the sun (water taxis bring you there). It is an ideal base to visit Cinque Terre, either hiking to the 5 towns or using the boat.
]]> 124540 2008-07-17 05:39:26



Centro di Educazione Ambientale Porto Venere is based on a hill, overlooking Porto Venere´s marina and the stunning beautiful colored buildings. Like the five villages of Cinque Terre, Porto Venere was made a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1997, and is as beautiful! Just not that busy with tourists and that is what makes the town and this hostel a great spot. It is an ideal base to visit Cinque Terre.



The stone building houses a modern and basic hostel with 52 beds, all in very clean dorms with bathrooms ensuite. Lockers are in the room, bring your own lock! (If you are lucky you get to sleep in dorm #1 with the best view onto the marina and village). Breakfast, coffee, juice, pastries, butter and jam, is included and good priced vending machines make sure you don´t stay thirsty, there is also a fridge for guests use. They have free wifi and the reception is very helpful providing information about history and sightseeing in and around Cinque Terre. A supermarket, bars and restaurants are very close.



Once you checked in, you will have a key so there is no curfew and hardly a lockout. Check your arrival time with the reception! Opening time in the afternoon/evening is short!




www.ostelloportovenere.it/




]]> 118047 2008-07-03 12:17:40


If you are traveling with bank notes or traveler checks, there are a couple of ways to get them changed. Arriving in a new country or walking out of a train station in a city you just arrived, many currency exchange places trying to lure you in by promising you a good rate and a low fee.

Wrong! After the adaption on the Euro, those exchange places are struggling for survival. That means, that they have lost their major income from EU citizens and their Deutsch Marks or French Francs and now the owners of £, ¥, $ or else have to pay for it.

That means, that besides a not so good exchange rate you will be charged a commission up to 20%. Short, you change for example 500$US, a hefty 100$ will be kept by the changing office.



Not when you go to banks or post offices. There you will first of all get a better exchange rate and only pay a small fee, which is mostly around 2.50Euro.

So, the money you save can be spent much better, like a nice dinner out, or a souvenir for your loved ones.

]]> 116934 2008-07-01 07:21:39


Pubcrawl in Florence

Now, there is an easy way to find pubs and bars in Florence without having to search the whole evening and night. Doing the pub crawl offered by Brian and John, two Irish natives who even know how to play the guitar saves you money and most of all and brings fun into your hard life of being a traveler.

Especially people traveling alone might find this idea of visiting a few bars, pubs and a nightclub appealing, because they get to meet fellow travelers and might and up doing next days sightseeing together.

20€ might sound much, but after all you get unlimited beer and sangria from 9pm – 10pm in the first bar, a free shot in each bar, discounts and drink specials, 3-4 bars through the night, a free Pub Crawl T-Shirt and admission to club that would charge you 10€ to get in. (It’s free on your birthday)

Check out the website for more info at www.hundredpercent.it
]]> 116137 2008-06-29 10:14:50
Thinking back some years, I start to remember my first trips as a backpacker. Entering a community so unique, you actually were proud telling others that you were backpacking.

Traveling whole continents and all you needed was stored in a backpack and a day bag. Most times one did not need to make a reservation at hostels, there was always a bed for you, and if not, they made space for you and your sleeping bag. Hitchhiking across Canada was one of the major events at the beginning of my travels. 9,000 kilometers along the Highway 17, from Halifax to Vancouver, and when truckers stopped to ask where you wanted to go, you simply replied “West, just west.”

Today, some years later, I tried to get a bed in a hostel in Florence. One more time I had to find out that hostels aren’t the same any more. Nowadays you need to make reservations days, sometimes weeks in advance. Years ago, you were glad to know what kind of day in the week it was. Most times no chance in telling someone the exact date. You never really knew what day you were getting into what town or city. Making reservations did not make sense, because most times you had to call up again and cancel, or change. But then, these were the times when there was no internet, no mobile phone. Guide books, fliers and the “Word of mouth” was the way to go. You called your family once every week or two, just to let them know that you are still alive, or, of course, when mum’s birthday came up. You sent letters to friends, including photos you made and hastily brought to a photo shop for developing; hoping the guy owning the place at the harbor of Hong Kong knew what he was doing. At least he did it cheap.

These were also the times when hostels were opened by travelers who knew what a hostel was all about. They were opened by heart. They were run by heart. Travelers from all over the world worked in places all over the world. After hitching across Canada, I went to California, ending up at the Grand Pacific Hostel as a receptionist. The Grand Pacific was the kind of place you left for, or came back from Central and South America. Trying to find a job in a hostel, just to save money. Sometime later I went back to San Diego and managed the place for a few months. Just for fun. Well, and to save some money.

Hitching at the Panama Canal to reach Hawaii and the Islands in the South Pacific, and then, Terra Australis, one felt a bit like Captain Cook, discovering new grounds, new ways. Last year I stayed in a hostel in Barcelona. I lay on my dorm bed, when a young lady and her boy friend came in and took two beds in the room. We started talking and both told me that they just flew in from London for four days with a budget air line. 30 minutes later, the lady sat on her bunk bed, talking into her mobile phone, telling people on the other end that she is backpacking Europe. Now, I looked at her language and need to say, the size of her suitcase fitted exactly the description of one sea case getting lost with the Titanic. Amazing what one needs to “backpack” 4 days through Barcelona. A moment, I wished I would be back on Tuvalu. You know Tuvalu? The small disappearing island in the South Pacific. 12 years ago, when you got off a boat there, you could pay 100US$ and stay for one month.

The 100$ were a sort of visa. There wasn’t much around on these islands. All you needed was a little hut, and the will to go fishing or pick fruits when you were hungry. And, if you didn’t get bored during the first month, you paid another 100$ and you stayed another month. Till you got bored, or till you had to get back to civilization. Alex Garland wrote about this kind of life in the nineties. Do you know “The Beach”? Forget the movie, the book is the treat. They were selling black market copies in hostels in Asia. It was the only way to get a book, every backpacker was talking about. I am talking that kind of life.

Today, I sat on a couch in front of the reception of a hostel in Florence and the owner of that hostel sarcastically asked me if I want to sleep on that couch because, like he told me, there is no space available in his hostel for this night.

There were times, when hostel owners proudly offered the spot on the couch. It had to do with honor. But then, in those times, hostel owners and receptionist weren’t annoyed by phone calls from backpackers at 8am. Those times, hostels knew exactly what was going on at their place. No online booking interfered with their exact knowledge of how many beds you had available. At 8 am they would have told you a yes or no. Not, “we will have a bed for you.” And when the annoying traveler asked if it was ok to come to the reception and get things done, things would have been done. Because, although travelers like to hike, they hate to waste time and strength by walking to a place for nothing, wasting 6 hours just to hear, “We have no bed for you!”

Funny was that I would have had a bed, or a room, if I would not have walked there and showed up at the reception. If I would have booked online, I would not have needed to walk at 2pm and 38 Celsius to some other hotel. True, the owner recommended it. And the way he acted, he thought that I would be so glad that he saved me from spending the night on the streets of Florence that I would praise all gods of traveling. But he didn’t carry my packs for 15 minutes through the heat. That’s why I do not praise him. I thank him for the offer organizing a bed for me. I respect him for that. But the effort came 6 hours too late.

Nowadays, the most important thing to owners of hostel sort of accommodations is the mammon. And making sure that 4 day budget fliers are satisfied. True, you need to pay your bills, it has always been that way and it always will be. That’s probably the reason, why a couple booking online some time after I checked at the reception in person, got the room. The single becomes a double. And the double is more expensive.
Times changed, like I said before. I always liked to travel. Being one of a few lucky ones, able to cross the iron curtain on a special visa and rumble around the Soviet Union, East Germany or Czechoslovakia, I tasted the air of freedom. Well, not really while traveling the east of Europe during the eighties, but still. Traveling is the best education you can get. No teacher is able to give you the kind of lessons you have while rumbling around other countries. So, again I am thankful for a lesson learned while traveling.

That the old way of backpacking the world doesn’t get you anywhere at most places, because new generation hostels and their way of business aren´t beatable, especially in times of online booking. And, that there is always one guy out there who thinks he knows the world.





]]> 115754 2008-06-28 06:33:30


Academy Hostel Florence
Via Riacasoli 9
50100 Firenze
Tel. +39 055 2398665
www.academyhostel.eu


Staying at the Academy Hostel in Florence, it is very hard to find a reason not to like it.

Based in the center of Florence, just meters from the cathedral you might skip some sightseeing and sit in the spacious common room, finding yourself watching TV, chatting with other travelers or just enjoy the beautifully working air condition.


Not like other hostels in town, the Academy really knows what backpackers need, not trying to squeeze the last Euro out of you with the service they offer.

Free internet and wifi, free breakfast, single beds, big rooms, secure lockers. Bed sheets and towels are included. At check in you are provided with a reading lamp and a key for your locker. The hostel is open 24 hours, has a little snack kitchen and good priced vending machines. Washing and drying is cheaper than anywhere else in Florence. The whole hostel is very clean and the bathrooms make you feel like in a 4 star hotel (paper towels, soap dispensers, hygienic paper layers for the toilet seat).

If you are lucky, you get to stay in a room with a gallery, not minding to take a few steps up the stairs to your bed. All rooms have air conditioning and a device keeping mosquitoes away. The well working shutters make sure that you won’t be woken by the sun after a long night out.


Overall, the Academy Hostel should be an example to most hostel owners in town, showing them that there is a way to provide travelers with a place to stay they will remember. The hostel is run by heart and the friendly staff always makes sure that you have a great stay.




]]> 114885 2008-06-26 12:44:25


Viale Augusto Righi 2-4, Florence


Telephone
+39-055-601451
Fax
+39-055-610300

www.ostellionline.org/ostello.php?idostello=188


True, the hostel is not really convenient to reach. 20-30 minutes bus ride from the train station and some hundred meters to walk from the bus stop. But you will like the 15th century building and the park.

Many guide books say that this is the most beautiful hostel in Italy, because of the building. Check in at the reception is more like a look up to the ceiling than fill out the form experience, because there is a lot to see up there.


The hostel and service is basic. Breakfast is included, but it is just the basic Italian style snack. There are washing machines and dryers, but you are lucky if all works at the same time. Dorms are very basic, bunk beds and a wardrobe, no lockers. The bathrooms remind more on Full Metal Jacket (no worries, toilets and showers are stalls, but no locks). There is internet for 3.50euro an hour. In the evening dinner is offered, a menu for 10€, single plates etc. also to have. A TV room and a little bar round the whole thing up. Curfew and lights out is at 12 midnight.



It is after all an Italian International Hostel, but very relaxed and quiet ( if not a school class makes its way to the hostel)



Take any bus number 17 from the train station (Leave to the right when walking away from the tracks) and tell the driver to kick you out at the Ostello.



]]> 114868 2008-06-26 11:57:12


Hotel Helvetia Pisa Italy
Via Don G. Boschi 31, PISA Italy
Tel. +39 (0)50 55 30 84

Hotel Helvetia is one of the budget options in the otherwise very expensive town of Pisa.
Single rooms start at 35/50 Euro (without/with bathroom) and double rooms are 65 Euro with bathroom. All rooms are very nice decorated and clean and have TV and a big window. The hotel is 200 meters from the famous Leaning Tower and not far from the bus stop leading to the train station.

Breakfast costs an extra 4 Euro and the place is run by friendly young people.


]]> 114862 2008-06-26 11:45:21


Hotel Touring Pisa Italy
Via Puccini 24, 56125 Pisa, Italy
Tel. +39 (0)50502148
www.hoteltouringpisa.com


The Hotel Touring is a 3 star hotel less than 100 meters from the train station, so a good option for travelers with a lot of luggage. It is a small but very nice place, with clean and nicely decorated rooms. Only downside is that like at most hotels, the showers are built in late and that makes taking a shower a bit of an experience. (That shower curtain just sticks to you all time)


Breakfast is basic and included, the hotel offers wifi in all rooms for free.


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