If you're picky like me, it can be a nightmare trying to book a hotel, let alone a hostel. I have to look through every single choice available, sort by price, then by reviews, read the reviews, and try to book the one which is supposedly sold out for my dates. So when I came across Langsters in Zurich, which had mixed reviews and dubbed a party hostel, I was thrown for a loop. I was also recovering from a cold. Could I endure 2 sleepless nights, fighting off drunks as I make my way back to my room? This is the beginning of what went through my mind. None the less, I trusted the central location, the 73% rating on Hostel World, and took the plunge.
Upon arrival, it was everything that I could have hoped for and more. Rad little cafe out front, with a bar, hippy-green pillows, and an ultra-friendly receptionist. I could now fit into the "hipster" group just by proxy. And to add to the good timing, tonight was Friday, and this cafe/bar had live jams happening later. Maybe I am a dirtbag in disguise, and love that "after party" smell early Saturday morning, finding people's shoes in random places from the last nights party, or the grunge factor about this place that makes it so cool and laid back. I am not a squeaky clean tourist who can only sleep in absolute quiet at 300$ per night, and avoids homeless like the lepers. So about the bad reviews, I don't know, stay tuned, let's see where the night takes me!
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Below is a compilation of my entries during the hike:
I sip my tea and just sit still, listening to the sound of the rushing river and cow bells clinking. Watch the clouds move slowly, always evolving. It appears that the mountains, animals, houses and people have all found the peace which I am experiencing a part of. I feel blessed. September 11. Refuge Des Mottets. Rising higher into the clouds soon the sound of the bells blend with the sound of the river until the two are indistinguishable. They grow faint, as a silence takes over. It is hanging in the clouds like a hazy blanket, waiting to envelop whoever enters. The beauty is in the silence, because taking away one sense heightens another; I start to become aware of the mist in the air and on the grass, the fog opening and closing windows through which I can get a glimpse of the majestic peaks and valleys before me. September 13 Ref. Bonatti The alps have a very strong resemblance to the Canadian Rockies. They are wild and unforgiving, with jagged peaks, vast forests, glacial rivers, steep valleys and high passes. What separates the two is the flocks of sheep and cows followed by their shepherds, power lines running in unimaginable places, and warm, inviting guest houses. As I hike, my mind drifts to different thoughts, which go as freely as they come. Sometimes they are conversations with myself about my purpose on the hike. Other times I am just counting the breaths I take on a steep uphill slope. Clouds drift by, enveloping me in their swirling blanket, like a bubble beyond which everything disappears into the abyss. For a long time the bubble will be mine alone, until shapes emerge out of the fog, and the dreamlike episode is over. Elevation is gained and elevation is lost. Victories won, and then lost, only to start all over again. the clouds continue to change and manipulate the visibility of the landscape before me. September 14 Champex To stay at guest houses is to become privy to an unofficial yet exclusive club of people dedicated to their love of nature and the mountains. You will not find such a collection of mountain geeks, self proclaimed experts, and philosophers in a city hostel. Once the wine begins to mix with dehydrated blood, conversation can be addicting, even when there is much sleep to be had. But every time, you learn something. A glimpse into the life of a person, or a new culinary miracle, the list goes on. And so does the wine. September 15 Trient It's only fitting to finish with something which is only so familiar yet brand new at the same time. A mountain refuge perched high in the alps, one of few which is not accessible by road and requires you to prove yourself prior to access by forcing a challenging ascent involving ladders, boulders, and a substantial elevation gain. The reward however is a trip back in time to the Nepalese Himalayas, of the guest houses situated in impossible places, with spectacular views of the valley, a teal blue lake out front, and friendly Sherpa guides. Despite no Masala tea or Dhal Bhat, we had a three course dinner of soup, pasta with a (marmot) stew, and hot wine. Did I say Marmot?! We were never really sure, but it was great regardless.. The wind whipped and howled at night, reminding us that we were in the domain of the mountain gods, and given the chance would tear the place apart and chill us to the bone. But the refuge stood strong, and our beds remained warm. The excitement and anxiety of finishing the hike growing in our hearts, while our minds demanded rest. Tomorrow would be the final day, the final push, for the finish of a great adventure. Sempember 16 Refuge Lac Blanc Elevation gained, elevation lost. Preparing mentally for the final 9 hour descent only worked if I did not think about the descent at all, but just as another day of hiking. Simple, like waking up in the morning and going to work. Only we would gear up, don full waterproof gear with minimal amount of skin exposure, and head out to complete the last leg of the hike. The weather was not terrible, but this fact was all the more depressing. A drizzle of rain, grey clouds, low visibility. The fog threatened once again to enclose us. And as we pushed on, the sky raged. Rain turned to ice, clouds blocked all view of the surrounding area, as if trying to hike the yellow signs which defined our route. it was as if the mountains themselves had turned against us, refusing to release us back to the human realm. Water found holes, seeped through zippers, filled boots, furthering our misery. Not only was I fully aware that the contents of my top backpack compartment were soaked, but I was also feeling the cold set in as we abruptly began to gain elevation. Rain turned to snow, wind was sending near horizontal sheets of ice at our faces. And then the cable car emerged. I will never know if it would have been safe to push on into the growing storm, soaked head to toe. But the risk is not always worth the reward, and at times it is better to feel human, and give into the mountains, than to be rebellious against the forces of nature. In the end, they could not take the away the pride of having completed the classic 166km ultra route, of having pushed on for sometimes as many as 11 hours, until dusk, until fatigue was a regular sensation. The last "classic" 10 km would be ran a day later, with impeccable views which would have otherwise been missed. One can not say that the mountains nor people in a region are more intense than others, or that they are more pure. Because each experience is individual, unique. My experience in the Alps was one of self discovery. I found happiness, pain, impatience, endurance. In the end, and before starting the next great adventure, we should ask, how much can I endure? September 17 Les Houches Upon arrival it was hard to shake the notion that this was a town where the inhabitants were driven to madness by the mere mention of football.
My expectation was gaggles of men, drunk and breaking out into song in an accent that I can barely understand. This was partially true. Apart from the nightlife, which deserves its own section, the vibrant city of Liverpool is like Seattle meeting the UK. Upon late arrival to our downtown hostel HOAX and receiving a dungeon room which later proved to be great for its soundproofing, we spent the night aimlessly wandering around the square and eventually coming across a dance club named "Pop World" (for obvious reasons). The remainder of the night consisted of belting out dance moves to Aqua and O-Town until we could no longer stand such an extended visit to the 90's. Much of the remaining nights out followed a similar vibe, which was making good use of cheap shots (Tequila at CaVa for 1€/shot) club hopping (since they are 4/street, offering all sorts of music/scene, and little to no cover, 24 hr alcohol service, drinking on street permitted), getting into passionate debates about things that don't really matter, and staying up super late. It was truly a great time, the city and people know how to party! Otherwise, the history of Liverpool is that of many port towns: migration, slavery, war. According to our guide, the city was bombed to sh*t during the war and the people want that, along with many of the other hardships to remain a crucial part of the Liverpool history. Along with The Beatles. By now I knew every hangout place and bar where they awaited the news on a record deal or just went to pick up chicks. Overall, the pleasant ocean walk, the old bombed out buildings, Statues, the rebuild, and the laid back music scene vibe give this place a double thumbs up. |
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April 2016
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