Never Do Your Laundry in Vienna
(and other lessons learned through European travel)

By Sara Esther

Travel shows and guidebooks constantly extol the mind-expanding effects of world travel. They claim that by exposing ourselves to exotic cultures and locales, we broaden our understanding of the world, gain familiarity with new languages, and strengthen our education by viewing the great works of art. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, this concept existed in the form of the Grand Tour. Families of sufficient means—normally very wealthy ones—shipped their sons off to the Continent for at least one summer in the hopes that they would gain polish and culture through travel. No doubt the same amorphous designs lurk in the minds of modern wealthy parents whose high-school seniors invade defenseless European cities from May to August.

These parents share one characteristic with their eighteenth century counterparts, however, the certain knowledge that the culture that their children will absorb is more likely to be low than high. Although most of my trips have been self-funded, I will be the first to admit that while I have stood awestruck in the presence of humankind’s great works such as Michelangelo’s David, the Venus de Milo, Chartres Cathedral, and Stonehenge, I have had moments of equal clarity and brilliance in a small town pub getting snockered on bitter with the locals. Thus, while I adore the cultural aspects of European travel and am an insatiable sightseer and shutterbug, the words of wisdom—if they can be called such—that I offer here are inspired by not only the slightly hairy situations in which I have landed, but also the everyday glitches that I have encountered in my own Grand Tours. So, here is a short list of my rules for European travel which I hope will be of help. 

Statue of Marcus Aurelius

Never do your laundry in Vienna 
I’ll admit, this rule is a bit pedestrian, but highly useful nonetheless. Due to newer environmental regulations imposed in the last couple of years, many laundromats in Vienna have closed, unable to pay higher fees. Thus, finding one can be a bit dicey. My mother and I were totally unaware of this when we arrived in Vienna last May, however. Although this may not seem too disastrous, when one smells like the rear end of Venice (more on that subject later) and has reached the melting point of the vacation experience, dragging Mamu (otherwise known as my suitcase) halfway across a major city is a bit trying. 

However, this tale has a happy ending. With the help of the wonderful staff at our pension and my mother’s bits of German, we did find the laundromat eventually. I even find the experience beneficial in hindsight. If the infamous laundry incident did not cause Mom and me to beat one another to death, I think our relationship is in very good shape. In addition, I learned that nothing happens on vacation that three liters of really good beer and a dab of goulash won’t cure. 

Beware Naked Germans!
At last, the raunchy stuff! Not really, but any visitor to a major German or Austrian city should be warned that they love to get naked and sunbathe. Frightening, but true. After the slightest rain shower groups of pale, naked Teutonic types cluster around puddles in public parks, trying desperately to catch some rays. Since this is in no way illegal, tourists get an eyeful. So, if you are at all modest or easily embarrassed, you can either avoid the magnificent Viennese gardens of the Schloss Schönbrunn and Stadtpark and miss the pagodas, beer gardens and winding trails of Munich’s Englischer Garten or you can soldier on, consider this practice as characteristic of the German love of relaxation and holiday, and enjoy your own. If you occupy the other end of the modesty spectrum, find a likely spot, strip and join in the fun! (For once here, I am not speaking from personal experience as nude sunbathing ain’t quite my bag.)

Leaving the Jewish ghetto.

For the love of God, pack light!
Obviously, if you plan on lots of the activity described above, this rule should pose no problem. Certainly most men don’t pack for an army, they toss a few pairs of boxers, some jeans and various assorted T-shirts in a duffle and off they go! For most women, however, packing light is much easier said than done. Personally, I still have problems paring down my wardrobe to practical standards. My aversion to packing sparingly stems from my fear of “looking like a tourist.” I really veer away from the image of the khaki shorts and T-shirts with sandals that typifies most American tourists. My last trip did convince me that light luggage is the only way to fly, especially when traveling with a Eurail pass. Three weeks of hauling my standard sized suitcase up and down train platforms and bucking it onto luggage racks convinced me to bring much less the next time! 

Field test your luggage before you leave. Gather all the items you wish to bring and put them in your suitcase. If you cannot lift the monster over your head, remember that a clean pair of pants and shirt is not necessary for every day, nor do you need the entire shoe collection (my personal weakness). Also, remember that train isles are only about three feet wide at their largest, thus monster double wide suitcases aren’t really practical. Finally, always remember that whatever you pack, you carry. This rule especially applies to backpackers and anyone traveling on a budget. For those of us too poor to afford taxis, getting luggage to the hotel often involves dragging luggage through Metros and bus systems, an experience that will inspire even the most ardent clotheshorse to weed their wardrobe. 

Italians are not actually the worst drivers in the world
This is a commonly held misconception that is easily understood by anyone who has traveled to Italy, especially the Eternal City. Roman drivers, despite the evidence of dented and damaged cars, are fantastic drivers, probably the best in the world. If they weren’t, they would be dead! Period! Italian drivers have nerves of Tungsten and lightning fast reflexes. Not to mention a complete lack of respect for any formalized driving regulations beyond the observance of a red light…..sometimes. However, despite all this, they not only survive, but manage to avoid creaming the pedestrians who undeniably obstruct their morning commute. 

In actuality, the worst drivers that I have ever encountered dwell in my favorite place in the world, the Scottish Highlands. In those fantastic, barren, and wild mountains, I have beheld some of the blood-curdling and bone chilling driving practices in existence. Only in the Highlands (and admittedly parts of Wyoming) have I ever seen two trucks collide head on, back away from each other and resume course with no more than a wave between their drivers. Abso-bloody-lutely amazing. Somehow in this region of Scotland, the steep and winding terrain, narrow one lane roads with passing areas, and the driving habits of isolated farmers in agricultural equipment has combined to form an incredibly hair-raising driving experience for non-locals. Thus, I rank the Scottish Highlands as the most frightening place to drive on vacation. With the exception of Colorado, of course…..that goes without saying doesn’t it? 

Statue of Strauss, the waltz king at the Stadt park, Vienna

Avoid mass transit and don’t be afraid to get lost!
Although mass transit can be the best friend of the footsore traveler, if we rely on it too much, especially underground systems, we often miss swathes of the places that we traveled a great distance to see. By walking or at least taking aboveground means of transport, anyone can discover amazing sights that very few other tourists ever see. Rome, in particular, is a great city to see on foot two companions and I discovered this summer. Actually, I should say that Mary (my mom) and I loved seeing the city on foot. I haven’t gotten Caitlin’s opinion on the “death march” lately (her term). Admittedly, this discovery was not of our choosing, the Roman transit workers decided to exercise their national passion for holding strikes on the second day of our trip, so we were forced into it. Thus, we walked from just north of the Vatican to the Coliseum. As we slowly wandered back to the hotel at the end of the day, having seen the Forum, the Palatine Hill, Marcus Aurelius in all his glory, and the rest of Rome’s foundation, and wanting nothing more than some nice pasta and vino, we of course became totally lost. In the course of navigating out of the rabbit’s warren of streets surrounding the Piazza Navona, we happened upon a much smaller, much less famous, and far less populated piazza that so typified what I had imagined of Rome. Ancient flagstones paved the piazza, a Renaissance church with a Baroque facade stood shoulder to shoulder with tall, terracotta houses, and a corner Ristorante with a little fountain and bright red awnings was filled with local patrons. (Incidentally, I now know that the Ristorante in question has fantastic gnocci and calzones the size of a Buick.) If we would have taken the metro back to the hotel, I would not have had my moment of Roman Zen, drinking really great wine, enjoying the company of my friends, and flirting with the really cute waiter. Speaking of Roman Zen, this leads directly to the next, and final rule of this list. 

When in Rome…etc. 
When visiting a foreign country, try to get away from the tourist hotspots as often as possible. Now, I’m not suggesting that you skip the must-sees such as the Eiffel Tower, the Coliseum, the Tower of London and the rest. Get your tourist on as much as you want. Do try, however, to soak in as much of the local culture as possible. When in Venice, venture off the beaten tourist trail and visit the Jewish Ghetto or the Lido, either of which provide very different experiences from the insanity of Piazza de San Marco. Visit the Trastevere neighborhood in Rome for great food and a local, dog-walking sort of vibe. 

Go to a local pub or a small town while visiting the U.K. You get the idea. London is fantastic, and great fun, but the best times that I’ve had in Britain were in small towns in pubs filled with locals. In Scotland and Wales especially, pubs are a great way to really experience an area…not to mention drink a lot of wicked good local brews! Don’t count out a place populated entirely by sheepherders or fishermen, they can be a hoot. Not to mention the occasional wandering rugby team, but that story will have to wait. Going native and experiencing things at a local level opens up a whole new realm of possibilities. For instance, by following this policy, I discovered that a Ceidilh, or traditional music concert/dance common to Scotland and Ireland, is actually a kegger with bagpipes and great fun. 

So, in a nutshell, I advise any traveler to walk when possible, party like a local, watch out for naked Germans and Highland drivers, and have a heap of fun. Remember, many of us only get one Grand Tour, so make the best of it and leave no stone unturned, no area unexplored, and have fun. Hopefully these suggestions should help not only the first time traveler, but also those seasoned hands who may have simply not encountered some situations. After all, I am a seasoned traveler, and no one ever told me to never do laundry in Vienna!