We've created a new game in honor of all the funny, crazy, ridiculous things our señora says to us. It's called Señora Says...and I just wanted to spread the laughter.
Señora says...
"You're getting fat because you eat bread with dinner."
(NOT because she gives us two slices of bread for breakfast along with four cookies and fruit, two sandwiches for lunch, and meals the size of Thanksgiving dinner).
(One day, we told her that we really like it when she makes a sandwich of just cheese for one of our two lunch sandies).
"Well I'm not going to give you a cheese sandwich every day because cheese makes you fat."
"You're sick because you leave the window open at night." But, Pepi, we haven't left the window open at night for more than a month. "Close the window at night and you won't get sick." Okay?
One day, we're sitting in our room studying and Pepi walks in.
"OPEN THE WINDOW! It smells like FEET in here!"
One night at dinner, she points to the wheat bread she buys for her and her daughter and tells us, "This bread has medicine in it. The doctor told me to eat it. It doesn't taste good, but I have to eat it for my health." Translation: I buy you girls the fugly, cheap white bread for a reason. Don't touch my more expensive wheat bread.
We have two French girls staying with us and they don't speak much Spanish. When I asked how long they had been studying for, they said three years. To this, Pepi responded, "Three years!?! I thought you hadn't studied Spanish at all!!"
My roommate told Pepi that her stomach hurt. "It's because you don't blow your nose. All the congestion drains back into your stomach, so it hurts. You need to stop sniffling and blow your nose."
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Sweet nothings of Spanish life
Elderly men always go out in the evening in business suits - that includes the slacks, the jacket, the button up shirt, belt, shoes, and tie. I love it.
Older women (ages 55+?) usually wear skirts when the leave the house. They get dressed up! Our señora has her jean skirt that she wears around the house, but if she goes out to grocery shop or anything, she changes into a loose, patterned skirt, combs her hair, and puts on some lipstick and perfume. No sweats, y'all.
Weddings. Every time there is a wedding, you know it. The women dress up in formal dresses of various, vibrant colors. It's like going to prom, except better. Oh, and they wear flowers in their hair.
Along a public walkway called Avenida Constitución, as the evening sets over the city, musicians of all types come out and play, setting their cases in front of them for donations. Saxophone, violin, accordion....
People of all ages run - sometimes spring - to the bus stop when they see it coming and they're not quite there.
Everyone carries around shopping bags. Not necessarily with new merchandise...there could be anything in it, but they choose to carry it in a fancy little bag from a stylish apparel store.
You know when a señora is on her way to the grocery store, because she pulls a tote on wheels for her groceries. It's almost like a carry-on bag, but the print is usually plaid.
Everyone gets two kisses when they meet - friends old and new.
PDA - Unhindered public displays of affection, primarily outside the universities and in the park.
Eating churros con chocolate at 6 am. Mmmm, breakfast.
Our señora's singing. She almost never stops...when she cooks, when she cleans...the only time she gives her voice a rest is when she sits down to read. Or when she listens to Elvis.
Walks. It's what the older Spanish community does for entertainment on the weekends. But you also see young couples...just walking.
Our señora's ridiculously loud snoring. It puts me right back at home with my dad. Snoring heard from down the hall. I can appreciate that =).
Fruterías - fruit stands filled with a wide array of delicious fruit of all shapes and sizes. Mmmm, getting hungry!
The stylish women. How to describe it...I think it's a mixture of the 70s, 80s, and modern-day styles with a bit of a punk twist. Try that on for size.
Trying not to sound too creepy, sometimes I just like to sit and watch them walk by...similar to Facebook stalking, no?
Older women (ages 55+?) usually wear skirts when the leave the house. They get dressed up! Our señora has her jean skirt that she wears around the house, but if she goes out to grocery shop or anything, she changes into a loose, patterned skirt, combs her hair, and puts on some lipstick and perfume. No sweats, y'all.
Weddings. Every time there is a wedding, you know it. The women dress up in formal dresses of various, vibrant colors. It's like going to prom, except better. Oh, and they wear flowers in their hair.
Along a public walkway called Avenida Constitución, as the evening sets over the city, musicians of all types come out and play, setting their cases in front of them for donations. Saxophone, violin, accordion....
People of all ages run - sometimes spring - to the bus stop when they see it coming and they're not quite there.
Everyone carries around shopping bags. Not necessarily with new merchandise...there could be anything in it, but they choose to carry it in a fancy little bag from a stylish apparel store.
You know when a señora is on her way to the grocery store, because she pulls a tote on wheels for her groceries. It's almost like a carry-on bag, but the print is usually plaid.
Everyone gets two kisses when they meet - friends old and new.
PDA - Unhindered public displays of affection, primarily outside the universities and in the park.
Eating churros con chocolate at 6 am. Mmmm, breakfast.
Our señora's singing. She almost never stops...when she cooks, when she cleans...the only time she gives her voice a rest is when she sits down to read. Or when she listens to Elvis.
Walks. It's what the older Spanish community does for entertainment on the weekends. But you also see young couples...just walking.
Our señora's ridiculously loud snoring. It puts me right back at home with my dad. Snoring heard from down the hall. I can appreciate that =).
Fruterías - fruit stands filled with a wide array of delicious fruit of all shapes and sizes. Mmmm, getting hungry!
The stylish women. How to describe it...I think it's a mixture of the 70s, 80s, and modern-day styles with a bit of a punk twist. Try that on for size.
Trying not to sound too creepy, sometimes I just like to sit and watch them walk by...similar to Facebook stalking, no?
Weekend in Nerja
My roommate and I, along with two other girls from our study abroad group decided we wanted to go to Nerja.
Nerja is a beach town along the southern coast of Spain, and just outside the town are the Cuevas (or caves) de Nerja.
So, we woke up before the sun rose and went to the bus station where we met up with three of the guys from our group that were also making the trek to the coast.
And then we slept.
When we got into town, we found our hostel, and coincidentally we had booked the same hostel as the boys, so that was convenient. We changed into out suits and strolled along the streets toward the beach, stopping here and there to look in the shops along the way.
The beach was beautiful! Blue ocean, palm trees, tan bodies everywhere...some showing more body than we wanted to see.
We picked up some food, went down to the water and laid our towels in the sand. We went into the water, we napped, and I finished my fifth book since I arrived in Spain (can you say nerd?!).
After our tanning time on la playa, we went back to our quaint little hostel and got ready for dinner. The boys, just because they are so awesome, invited us onto the terrace at the top of the hostel to drink sangría that they had made themselves - consisting of brandy, fanta limón, and some kind of wine...
So we all sat up on the terrace and watched the sun set over the mountains. And we talked and LAUGHED! Laughed and laughed and laughed. And then it was dinner time!
We walked around to this restaurant we had seen, but decided it was too expensive. It was in the middle of this plaza overlooking the ocean, and some Spaniards were break-dancing to a boom box - so cool. So we watched for a bit, and then kept going because we were starving!
We ended up eating at this Italian restaurant called El Gato Negro (which means the Black cat) that had live flamenco out front. Unfortunately, we couldn't sit outside to see it because our group was too big. So we enjoyed the muffled music from the inside.
But the ambiance inside the restaurant was great, and we started with a bottle of wine, and then ordered pizzas and pastas with seafood. Delicious doesn't even begin to describe.
We bought gelato near the ocean, and the guys were still hungry so we continued on, wandering into a Mexican restaurant.
Some people go bar hopping. We go restaurant hopping.
Even though not everyone ate, we all got little Mexican hat pins with our bill - like the way you get fortune cookies at a Chinese restaurant.
And then, with full stomachs, we proceeded home.
The next morning, we got up early to catch the 8:30 bus to the caves. It took about 15 minutes to get there, the bus dropped us off, and then we read the sign posted on the door.
It didn't open until 10.
So we decide to explore...we find a playground and hang around like monkeys for awhile, and then we walk down towards the town nearby to see if there are any cafés open. Well, instead we found a buffet libre (all you can eat buffet) at a hotel just off the main road for less than 4 euros. Count us in!
By the time we got done eating, the caves were open, and we managed to just beat the crowds.
The cave we went into was so cool. The size of each chamber was just unbelievable! And we saw the biggest column of stalagmites/stalactites in the world. In this little beach town in southern Spain! It was great.
We headed back to Nerja, and back to our hostel, where we packed up and checked out. On to Málaga.
We were only in Málaga for a couple of hours, and had planned to see the Picasso museum, but when we saw that it was too far away to make it back in time for our bus, we sat down in some grass and just hung for a bit. And then we went for tapas.
Tapas. Tapas are amazing. They are almost like appetizers in the US. I think the tradition started as a way to prevent people from just getting drinks and feeling tipsy afterwards because they didn't eat beforehand. So when Spaniards go out in the evening, they get drinks and tapas...sometimes. And sometimes they just have a cerveza.
But we shared a bunch of tapas, and then passed out on the bus ride home.
It was a great weekend.
Nerja is a beach town along the southern coast of Spain, and just outside the town are the Cuevas (or caves) de Nerja.
So, we woke up before the sun rose and went to the bus station where we met up with three of the guys from our group that were also making the trek to the coast.
And then we slept.
When we got into town, we found our hostel, and coincidentally we had booked the same hostel as the boys, so that was convenient. We changed into out suits and strolled along the streets toward the beach, stopping here and there to look in the shops along the way.
The beach was beautiful! Blue ocean, palm trees, tan bodies everywhere...some showing more body than we wanted to see.
We picked up some food, went down to the water and laid our towels in the sand. We went into the water, we napped, and I finished my fifth book since I arrived in Spain (can you say nerd?!).
After our tanning time on la playa, we went back to our quaint little hostel and got ready for dinner. The boys, just because they are so awesome, invited us onto the terrace at the top of the hostel to drink sangría that they had made themselves - consisting of brandy, fanta limón, and some kind of wine...
So we all sat up on the terrace and watched the sun set over the mountains. And we talked and LAUGHED! Laughed and laughed and laughed. And then it was dinner time!
We walked around to this restaurant we had seen, but decided it was too expensive. It was in the middle of this plaza overlooking the ocean, and some Spaniards were break-dancing to a boom box - so cool. So we watched for a bit, and then kept going because we were starving!
We ended up eating at this Italian restaurant called El Gato Negro (which means the Black cat) that had live flamenco out front. Unfortunately, we couldn't sit outside to see it because our group was too big. So we enjoyed the muffled music from the inside.
But the ambiance inside the restaurant was great, and we started with a bottle of wine, and then ordered pizzas and pastas with seafood. Delicious doesn't even begin to describe.
We bought gelato near the ocean, and the guys were still hungry so we continued on, wandering into a Mexican restaurant.
Some people go bar hopping. We go restaurant hopping.
Even though not everyone ate, we all got little Mexican hat pins with our bill - like the way you get fortune cookies at a Chinese restaurant.
And then, with full stomachs, we proceeded home.
The next morning, we got up early to catch the 8:30 bus to the caves. It took about 15 minutes to get there, the bus dropped us off, and then we read the sign posted on the door.
It didn't open until 10.
So we decide to explore...we find a playground and hang around like monkeys for awhile, and then we walk down towards the town nearby to see if there are any cafés open. Well, instead we found a buffet libre (all you can eat buffet) at a hotel just off the main road for less than 4 euros. Count us in!
By the time we got done eating, the caves were open, and we managed to just beat the crowds.
The cave we went into was so cool. The size of each chamber was just unbelievable! And we saw the biggest column of stalagmites/stalactites in the world. In this little beach town in southern Spain! It was great.
We headed back to Nerja, and back to our hostel, where we packed up and checked out. On to Málaga.
We were only in Málaga for a couple of hours, and had planned to see the Picasso museum, but when we saw that it was too far away to make it back in time for our bus, we sat down in some grass and just hung for a bit. And then we went for tapas.
Tapas. Tapas are amazing. They are almost like appetizers in the US. I think the tradition started as a way to prevent people from just getting drinks and feeling tipsy afterwards because they didn't eat beforehand. So when Spaniards go out in the evening, they get drinks and tapas...sometimes. And sometimes they just have a cerveza.
But we shared a bunch of tapas, and then passed out on the bus ride home.
It was a great weekend.
Monday, September 17, 2007
The Three Gay Spaniards that weren´t
We had the best Saturday night.
My roommate and I told our señora that we were going out for dinner, and we bought some bread and cheese along with some cheap wine to enjoy by the river. We were meeting three other girls from our group, and so we staked out a spot, dangling our legs over the edge.
So here's the deal on drinking in public in Sevilla. A law was passed about a year ago mandating that drinking in the streets is no longer allowed. As was explained to me, kids as young as 12 were drinking in the streets, making lots of noise all night, and leaving poor impressions on tourists. So the law was passed. But it only applies to places where people live, or in front of open doors and business, etc. So there are certain areas where you can still drink legally. And, I was told, one of those places is by the river.
So here's the deal on drinking in public in Sevilla. A law was passed about a year ago mandating that drinking in the streets is no longer allowed. As was explained to me, kids as young as 12 were drinking in the streets, making lots of noise all night, and leaving poor impressions on tourists. So the law was passed. But it only applies to places where people live, or in front of open doors and business, etc. So there are certain areas where you can still drink legally. And, I was told, one of those places is by the river.
So we're doing just that, and then a party arrived. About 20 Spanish kids - they looked like they were in high school - show up and start drinking and hanging out by the river. One of them tried to talk to us, but he was too intoxicated to even speak Spanish well. Ooooh geez.
Well, those guys left after finishing their pre-gaming, and two other Spanish guys came along and said hola. I started making small talk with them (in spanish, of course) and they asked if they could sit down. Sure, I said. We chatted for awhile, they were from Granada but are working as mechanics in Sevilla now. One of them, Jorge, started to explain to me the differences in flamenco dancing between Sevilla and Granada. It was really interesting.
Then one of the girls from our group called Jorge "Jorge Curioso el mono" or Curious George the monkey. I don't really know why, but it was hilarious. And she called his friend "El hombre en el sombrero amarillo" or the man in the yellow hat. And they thought that was great, the two of them laughed so hard. And then the man in the yellow hat wanted to know if this guy from the Curious George books was handsome.
"Of course he is!" I told him.
We moved on, saying goodbye to our new friends..."¿Besos?" (Kisses?) Jorge asked me. (In Spain, friends, even new friends, great each other with a kiss on each cheek)
"¿Besos de amigos, verdad?" (Friendly kisses, right?) I responded and took on the Spanish tradition.
Then we went to an Irish pub that we like on Calle Betiz, which is a street with bunch of clubs and bars where Spaniards hang out.
There, we met up with three Spanish guys we had met through our university. One of them, David, had been our tour guide, and he and I had exchanged numbers during orientation. (He is leaving to study in England this year).
Well, at orientation, he introduced his friend Samuel as his partner. So it gets around our study abroad group that he's gay, he's got a partner, right?
We just weren't sure about his third friend, but he said something about hitting on guys or something, so we just figured.
They took us to another area where there are several discotecas (not clubs, because in Spain that means brothel) and we split up into two groups to get in (for some reason big groups have to pay to get into discotecas).
And it was PACKED. It was great, but so many people! At about 2am!
But we danced and danced - we were having a blast. Slowly the group splits up into the crowd of people, and I find myself dancing with David's partner.
And then he tried to kiss me.
Oh geez, THEY'RE NOT GAY!!!!
I back away and say to him in Spanish, hey, I haven't had enough to drink for that nonsense, buddy.
Poor guy. Gave him the shut down.
Then I spot one of the other girls I was with, Kate, dancing with David's other friend, and I make my way over to her. We look at each other and say, almost in unison, "They're not gay!"
Apparently the guy that Kate was dancing with also wanted to plant a big one on her, even after she told him that she has a boyfriend in the States. Then she told him that, all along, we had thought they were gay.
And so it all unravels...
"You thought we were GAY?!" the two friends exclaim with shocked expressions.
One of them told us it was the first time that anyone had ever called him gay. Probably not the best time to use the phrase "there's a first time for everything"!
"You think I was gay?!" David asks with wide eyes after walking up to us.
Well, yes kind of - that's what "partner" means in the US...we just didn't know.
By "partner" David had actually meant "classmate." The Spanish word can be translated either way.
They were embarrassed, and we were embarrassed, but everyone was laughing. Not long after that, we decided to call it a night...or a morning, being that it was about 5 am.
The guys were good sports about it though, and at the end of the night they hugged each other and said in English, "Goodnight pard-ner."
And altogether, I have to say, it was a very good night.
La vida española
So, what´s an average day like in Spain?
Wake up in the morning, no shower, because our señora preferes us to shower ¨por la tarde¨ or in the afternoon. And we only get one a day, so we better make it special.
For breakfast we get two slices of cold bread with butter and strawberry jam, a cup of decaf coffee with milk, cookies to dip in the coffee, and fruit. Not bad.
We have class Monday through Thursday, and so I leave an hour before class starts and walk about 10 minutes to the bus stop. From there, it´s about a 15 minute ride to the university bus stop, and then I walk the rest of the way to campus.
Interesting bit of info - while riding the bus to campus, we pass a place called ¨Tres mil viviendas¨ or 3,000 livings. It´s basically the projects of Sevilla. So our program coordinator told us never to walk to school - not that we could, because our bus takes the freeway.
Another interesting bit of info - our university used to be a jail. It reminds me of Pinnacle High School, one road in, one road out, surrounded by desert.
Depending on what day it is, I either eat bocadillas (sandwhiches) made by my señora on campus, or I return home for lunch.
Every Tuesday and Thursday, I finish by noon, so I ride the bus back home and wait until 2:15 when the family usually eats. Sometimes we´re joined by our señora´s daughter, who lives with us, and her oldest son and brother have even stopped by during lunchtime.
Lunch is huge. And delicious. Usually we have some kind of soup, a salad, and a big plate of fish. The other day our señora made fried calamari, fresh clams, and fresh tuna - all for one meal. My roommate and I were so full.
The city literally shuts down starting at 2 pm until around 5 pm. It´s incredible to see the difference walking around in the morning, and then again in the afternoon. The only places that stay open are restaurants, some grocery stores, and a big department store in Spain called El Corte Inglès. But, then restaurants shut down until dinner time, which - at the earliest - begins at 8.
At my house, we eat dinner at 9 pm - and our señora says that she eats early. But after having a big lunch, we are hardly ever hungry again for dinner.
Our ¨house¨ is what Americans would call an apartment. It has four small bedrooms and two bathrooms, and then a small kitchen and a living room. But here, it´s considered a house.
Our showers have to be quick - 5 minutes or less. Before we shower, we have to turn on the gas to get warm water. And once our señora turns on the gas, we better be running and jumping into that shower.
To save water, we rinse, water off. Shampoo. Water on, rinse, water off. Conditioner. Water on, rinse, water off. Shave, if necessary. And that´s our shower. In the afternoon, of course.
If we want to go out, it´s better to be ready before 11 so we can catch the last bus into town. Otherwise we have to pay for a taxi. But a taxi ride isn´t very expensive - only about 5 euro.
It doesn´t sound that difficult, but when dinner is at 9, and we use our one shower to shower after dinner, things can get a little tight. And, Spaniards usually don´t go out until midnight or so. The discotecas don´t get crowded until 2 or 3 in the morning on the weekends. It´s great.
Sevilla doesn´t have a metro, so you either have to walk, take a taxi, or take the bus. No problems yet with transportation - it´s refreshing not to be so dependent on cars.
My roommate is great, she´s from California and is super nice. We get along really well and have enjoyed exploring the city together and getting to know Spanish cultures. And listening to little lectures from our señora - I know she means well. =)
I am loving Sevilla, the city is beautiful, and we haven´t even scratched the surface!
Wake up in the morning, no shower, because our señora preferes us to shower ¨por la tarde¨ or in the afternoon. And we only get one a day, so we better make it special.
For breakfast we get two slices of cold bread with butter and strawberry jam, a cup of decaf coffee with milk, cookies to dip in the coffee, and fruit. Not bad.
We have class Monday through Thursday, and so I leave an hour before class starts and walk about 10 minutes to the bus stop. From there, it´s about a 15 minute ride to the university bus stop, and then I walk the rest of the way to campus.
Interesting bit of info - while riding the bus to campus, we pass a place called ¨Tres mil viviendas¨ or 3,000 livings. It´s basically the projects of Sevilla. So our program coordinator told us never to walk to school - not that we could, because our bus takes the freeway.
Another interesting bit of info - our university used to be a jail. It reminds me of Pinnacle High School, one road in, one road out, surrounded by desert.
Depending on what day it is, I either eat bocadillas (sandwhiches) made by my señora on campus, or I return home for lunch.
Every Tuesday and Thursday, I finish by noon, so I ride the bus back home and wait until 2:15 when the family usually eats. Sometimes we´re joined by our señora´s daughter, who lives with us, and her oldest son and brother have even stopped by during lunchtime.
Lunch is huge. And delicious. Usually we have some kind of soup, a salad, and a big plate of fish. The other day our señora made fried calamari, fresh clams, and fresh tuna - all for one meal. My roommate and I were so full.
The city literally shuts down starting at 2 pm until around 5 pm. It´s incredible to see the difference walking around in the morning, and then again in the afternoon. The only places that stay open are restaurants, some grocery stores, and a big department store in Spain called El Corte Inglès. But, then restaurants shut down until dinner time, which - at the earliest - begins at 8.
At my house, we eat dinner at 9 pm - and our señora says that she eats early. But after having a big lunch, we are hardly ever hungry again for dinner.
Our ¨house¨ is what Americans would call an apartment. It has four small bedrooms and two bathrooms, and then a small kitchen and a living room. But here, it´s considered a house.
Our showers have to be quick - 5 minutes or less. Before we shower, we have to turn on the gas to get warm water. And once our señora turns on the gas, we better be running and jumping into that shower.
To save water, we rinse, water off. Shampoo. Water on, rinse, water off. Conditioner. Water on, rinse, water off. Shave, if necessary. And that´s our shower. In the afternoon, of course.
If we want to go out, it´s better to be ready before 11 so we can catch the last bus into town. Otherwise we have to pay for a taxi. But a taxi ride isn´t very expensive - only about 5 euro.
It doesn´t sound that difficult, but when dinner is at 9, and we use our one shower to shower after dinner, things can get a little tight. And, Spaniards usually don´t go out until midnight or so. The discotecas don´t get crowded until 2 or 3 in the morning on the weekends. It´s great.
Sevilla doesn´t have a metro, so you either have to walk, take a taxi, or take the bus. No problems yet with transportation - it´s refreshing not to be so dependent on cars.
My roommate is great, she´s from California and is super nice. We get along really well and have enjoyed exploring the city together and getting to know Spanish cultures. And listening to little lectures from our señora - I know she means well. =)
I am loving Sevilla, the city is beautiful, and we haven´t even scratched the surface!
Make your luggage disappear!
I took a train from Paris to Irun, in Spain, and had no problems. Granted I almost broke my back hauling my luggage everywhere, but I definitely got them on and off the train safely, leaving them on the luggage racks.
Well, intercity trains in Spain don´t have luggage racks. Only overhead compartments that are smaller than the in-flight airplane storage.
I had no idea what to do with my two, very large, suitcases. Not to mention my backpack. I ask the woman manning our compartment what I should do with them.
She yells at me, in Spanish of course, that finding a place for my luggage is not her problem, but that I can´t leave them in the area where people board the train.
Okay.
So, with the help of a nice guy sitting in front of me, I pile them onto the empty chair next to me.
When the woman comes back, she yells again, telling me that each passenger is allowed 2 bags no more than 20 kilos each. She says something about eating them - I´m guessing she was telling me to eat my clothes to get rid of them - and then she says I need to make them disappear.
Shoot. I forgot my magic set at home. Can I take a rain check?
Unfortunately at the time, I hadn´t slept much, so I actually felt more like crying than joking around.
Well, a nice man in the middle says ¨Aquì, amiga,¨ and points to a table surrounded by empty seats. So we hide one of my suitcases under there, and then I put the other one in front of my seat and prop my feet up on it.
So then a family boards and wants to know whose enormous suitcase is blocking their feet. So we move it back out of the compartment to where the passengers board again.
Well the woman working for the line comes by again and yells at me...again. She can´t open the door to let people on, so I can´t leave my suitcase there.
I apologize, defeated and tired of being yelled at and put the suitcase in the seat next to me. She says that´s fine for now, but if anyone needs to sit there, I have to stand.
Okay, that´s fine with me. I wish she would have said that the first time.
Luckily, the seat stayed empty and I made it to Madrid with all of my luggage and shared a taxi ride to the hotel with a boy named Wil that I had met before boarding the train, who was also studying abroad.
Well, intercity trains in Spain don´t have luggage racks. Only overhead compartments that are smaller than the in-flight airplane storage.
I had no idea what to do with my two, very large, suitcases. Not to mention my backpack. I ask the woman manning our compartment what I should do with them.
She yells at me, in Spanish of course, that finding a place for my luggage is not her problem, but that I can´t leave them in the area where people board the train.
Okay.
So, with the help of a nice guy sitting in front of me, I pile them onto the empty chair next to me.
When the woman comes back, she yells again, telling me that each passenger is allowed 2 bags no more than 20 kilos each. She says something about eating them - I´m guessing she was telling me to eat my clothes to get rid of them - and then she says I need to make them disappear.
Shoot. I forgot my magic set at home. Can I take a rain check?
Unfortunately at the time, I hadn´t slept much, so I actually felt more like crying than joking around.
Well, a nice man in the middle says ¨Aquì, amiga,¨ and points to a table surrounded by empty seats. So we hide one of my suitcases under there, and then I put the other one in front of my seat and prop my feet up on it.
So then a family boards and wants to know whose enormous suitcase is blocking their feet. So we move it back out of the compartment to where the passengers board again.
Well the woman working for the line comes by again and yells at me...again. She can´t open the door to let people on, so I can´t leave my suitcase there.
I apologize, defeated and tired of being yelled at and put the suitcase in the seat next to me. She says that´s fine for now, but if anyone needs to sit there, I have to stand.
Okay, that´s fine with me. I wish she would have said that the first time.
Luckily, the seat stayed empty and I made it to Madrid with all of my luggage and shared a taxi ride to the hotel with a boy named Wil that I had met before boarding the train, who was also studying abroad.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
And on the 30th day, we rested.
Lesson learned from our return to Paris: remember which train station you leave your luggage at.
We went to the wrong station, and had to turn around and get back on the metro to go to the right one - which we weren´t sure about anymore. Ha. Oh geez.
But we pick up our mounds of luggage and hail a cab to get to our hotel. We had booked a nicer hotel in the middle of the city and planned to just relax for a day or two.
And that´s exactly what we did.
There was a cafè just across the street from our hotel, and on our second day their I ate duck for the first time from their menu. We savored freshly baked pain eu chocolat (chocolate-filled croissants) and enjoyed our hotel´s breakfast buffet. We dressed up our first night and went to an Italian restaurant for a late dinner and just sat and talked for hours.
Paris was cold - like Phoenix winters - but it was nice to have to bundle up for a change.
And we were done, our trip was over, there was no more.
I don´t think that really hit me until I got into a cab to go to the train station, and I was alone. I was alone for the first time since we had left the US.
I was leaving my partner in crime behind, the girl with whom I had shared my August. With whom I had done everything, seen everything, and traveled everywhere. And I was sad to have to say goodbye to our long discussions - about politics, life, religion, love - and our times together in silence, reading, journaling, drawing, and observing.
But Spain and other adventures awaited me ahead.
Like Paulo Coehlo quotes in his book, ¨We´ll always have Paris.¨
We´ll always have Paris, Leslie!
We went to the wrong station, and had to turn around and get back on the metro to go to the right one - which we weren´t sure about anymore. Ha. Oh geez.
But we pick up our mounds of luggage and hail a cab to get to our hotel. We had booked a nicer hotel in the middle of the city and planned to just relax for a day or two.
And that´s exactly what we did.
There was a cafè just across the street from our hotel, and on our second day their I ate duck for the first time from their menu. We savored freshly baked pain eu chocolat (chocolate-filled croissants) and enjoyed our hotel´s breakfast buffet. We dressed up our first night and went to an Italian restaurant for a late dinner and just sat and talked for hours.
Paris was cold - like Phoenix winters - but it was nice to have to bundle up for a change.
And we were done, our trip was over, there was no more.
I don´t think that really hit me until I got into a cab to go to the train station, and I was alone. I was alone for the first time since we had left the US.
I was leaving my partner in crime behind, the girl with whom I had shared my August. With whom I had done everything, seen everything, and traveled everywhere. And I was sad to have to say goodbye to our long discussions - about politics, life, religion, love - and our times together in silence, reading, journaling, drawing, and observing.
But Spain and other adventures awaited me ahead.
Like Paulo Coehlo quotes in his book, ¨We´ll always have Paris.¨
We´ll always have Paris, Leslie!
Ciao, Venezia!
Gondola rides cost about 80 euro, so we walked up and down the waterside looking for two people to share a ride with. We found two girls from South Korea who were also looking for two more passengers to make the ride cheaper.
The ride was beautiful. We went under the Ponte dei Sospiri and wove through smaller canals, admiring the colorful architecture of the tall, Venecian buildings.
And the girls were really nice. They were traveling for a couple of weeks, on their way to southern Italy, and - having already been there - we gave them some good pointers.
It was a short ride, only half an hour, but it was something we just had to do while in Venice.
To finish our day, we sat down at a an alleyway restaurant that offered a ¨tourist special¨- which is a flat price for a 3 course meal and includes service charges. The meal begins with an appetizer, then a delicious pasta dish, and ends with a meat dish. It was great.
And then we just wandered around a bit more, admiring the city at night. We got gelato by the Rialto Bridge and then sat down with our feet danging over the canal to enjoy our dessert. While we sat there, it actually started to rain, and we watched as various types of motorboats pulled over one by one to the side of the canal and docked while the drivers put up their rooftops. And then we strolled home through the empty streets in the rain, soaked by the time we finally got to our hotel, but loving our leisurely pace.
When it rains like that in Venice, the shops close down and outdoor restaurants bring in their chairs and tables from outside. The city gets quiet except for the soft patter of the rain. It´s beautiful.
Our Japanese roommate had moved on, so when we returned, we were sharing a room with a guy from Finland who spoke very broken English. We didn´t talk a lot, he was on his way back out to smoke and get a drink, but the next morning we sat in the hostel kitchen with him and chatted.
He had come for the art festival that goes on in Venice every four years, which we knew nothing about. He told us a little about his previous travels...how he had gone to Spain, but no one spoke English, something we never noticed as Spanish speakers. He too was traveling alone and just enjoying his vacation.
So, our last day in Venice, we left our luggage at the hostel and had a relaxing day in the city. We got an early lunch and just wandered for awhile, until we found a good place to sit down and have cafè lattes. I read and Leslie drew, and after a few hours we got up and continued on until it was time to collect our monster backpacks and head to the train station.
Our train ride to Paris was basically just horrible, but an experience nonetheless. The car was FREEZING, and we only had a sheet for covers. Leslie and I ended up with the lowest two beds, crammed in between the seat armrests (the train has chairs during the day that convert to beds at night) and the flat cushion we were sleeping on. What was worse is that I was sick before we boarded, but after that ride, I felt horrible. Just awful.
I think we slept about a total of 2 or 3 hours the entire night. Ugh.
But, we did meet a guy from Barcelona, and it was nice to chat with him for awhile, though I could barely understand. He was speaking so softly that I kept leaning forward and trying to understand a language that I´m not quite yet fluent in. Good times.
The ride was beautiful. We went under the Ponte dei Sospiri and wove through smaller canals, admiring the colorful architecture of the tall, Venecian buildings.
And the girls were really nice. They were traveling for a couple of weeks, on their way to southern Italy, and - having already been there - we gave them some good pointers.
It was a short ride, only half an hour, but it was something we just had to do while in Venice.
To finish our day, we sat down at a an alleyway restaurant that offered a ¨tourist special¨- which is a flat price for a 3 course meal and includes service charges. The meal begins with an appetizer, then a delicious pasta dish, and ends with a meat dish. It was great.
And then we just wandered around a bit more, admiring the city at night. We got gelato by the Rialto Bridge and then sat down with our feet danging over the canal to enjoy our dessert. While we sat there, it actually started to rain, and we watched as various types of motorboats pulled over one by one to the side of the canal and docked while the drivers put up their rooftops. And then we strolled home through the empty streets in the rain, soaked by the time we finally got to our hotel, but loving our leisurely pace.
When it rains like that in Venice, the shops close down and outdoor restaurants bring in their chairs and tables from outside. The city gets quiet except for the soft patter of the rain. It´s beautiful.
Our Japanese roommate had moved on, so when we returned, we were sharing a room with a guy from Finland who spoke very broken English. We didn´t talk a lot, he was on his way back out to smoke and get a drink, but the next morning we sat in the hostel kitchen with him and chatted.
He had come for the art festival that goes on in Venice every four years, which we knew nothing about. He told us a little about his previous travels...how he had gone to Spain, but no one spoke English, something we never noticed as Spanish speakers. He too was traveling alone and just enjoying his vacation.
So, our last day in Venice, we left our luggage at the hostel and had a relaxing day in the city. We got an early lunch and just wandered for awhile, until we found a good place to sit down and have cafè lattes. I read and Leslie drew, and after a few hours we got up and continued on until it was time to collect our monster backpacks and head to the train station.
Our train ride to Paris was basically just horrible, but an experience nonetheless. The car was FREEZING, and we only had a sheet for covers. Leslie and I ended up with the lowest two beds, crammed in between the seat armrests (the train has chairs during the day that convert to beds at night) and the flat cushion we were sleeping on. What was worse is that I was sick before we boarded, but after that ride, I felt horrible. Just awful.
I think we slept about a total of 2 or 3 hours the entire night. Ugh.
But, we did meet a guy from Barcelona, and it was nice to chat with him for awhile, though I could barely understand. He was speaking so softly that I kept leaning forward and trying to understand a language that I´m not quite yet fluent in. Good times.
Friday, September 14, 2007
I LOVE THIS WOMAN!
We woke up our second day in Venice and decided to start the day with a jog through the city to the port.
Not as easy as we thought. We had to weave through people and around stands, and we couldn´t find the port. But we got to see the city wake up - it physically comes alive every morning.
Vendors pull out their carts and uncover their valuable items. Fruit stands fill up with vibrantly ripe fruit. And slowly, more and more people crowd into the street. When we left, there were people walking along here and there, but when we returned just over an hour later, intermixed masses of tourists and Italians crowded the streets.
It´s amazing.
We grab a quick lunch on our way out again, and just start wandering. Venice isn´t very big, and we had three days there, so we figured we might as well take a more leisurely approach to our touring. Reading different histories from our guide book as we went, we strolled by shops, stopping in now and again to take a closer look.
And eventually we stumbled across the Piazza San Marco.
I knew exactly where we were the minute we caught a glimpse. I had a poster of the piazza hanging in my dorm all last year, and I could not wait to get there. (Though, after my Versailles experience, I was a bit apprehensive about all of those pigeons. Hence the extra cleaning wipes).
And it was exactly as I had imagined...better in fact. Pigeons cover the ground everywhere. Saint Mark´s Basilica is absolutely amazing - the color and grandeur of the building forces you to stop and take a moment just to look. We admired the bell tower high in the sky, and watched people feed the pigeons.
¨This is the commercial,¨ I said to Leslie. ¨The diamond commercial where that guy stands in the middle of the plaza and yells at the top of his lungs, I LOVE THIS WOMAN!¨
I wanted to yell, ¨I LOVE THIS PLACE!¨
We walked with the crowds along the water, past the government building, Doge´s Palace, and the famous Bridge of Sighs (Ponte dei Sospiri) where prisoners were marched to jail from the interrogation rooms in Doge´s Palace.
We sat down by the water, docked gondolas swaying in front of us, and wrote. We had made it to the end of our trip, and I could not believe it.
Cafè lattes and fruit and postcard writing. It was great.
Our next goal: a gondola ride.
Not as easy as we thought. We had to weave through people and around stands, and we couldn´t find the port. But we got to see the city wake up - it physically comes alive every morning.
Vendors pull out their carts and uncover their valuable items. Fruit stands fill up with vibrantly ripe fruit. And slowly, more and more people crowd into the street. When we left, there were people walking along here and there, but when we returned just over an hour later, intermixed masses of tourists and Italians crowded the streets.
It´s amazing.
We grab a quick lunch on our way out again, and just start wandering. Venice isn´t very big, and we had three days there, so we figured we might as well take a more leisurely approach to our touring. Reading different histories from our guide book as we went, we strolled by shops, stopping in now and again to take a closer look.
And eventually we stumbled across the Piazza San Marco.
I knew exactly where we were the minute we caught a glimpse. I had a poster of the piazza hanging in my dorm all last year, and I could not wait to get there. (Though, after my Versailles experience, I was a bit apprehensive about all of those pigeons. Hence the extra cleaning wipes).
And it was exactly as I had imagined...better in fact. Pigeons cover the ground everywhere. Saint Mark´s Basilica is absolutely amazing - the color and grandeur of the building forces you to stop and take a moment just to look. We admired the bell tower high in the sky, and watched people feed the pigeons.
¨This is the commercial,¨ I said to Leslie. ¨The diamond commercial where that guy stands in the middle of the plaza and yells at the top of his lungs, I LOVE THIS WOMAN!¨
I wanted to yell, ¨I LOVE THIS PLACE!¨
We walked with the crowds along the water, past the government building, Doge´s Palace, and the famous Bridge of Sighs (Ponte dei Sospiri) where prisoners were marched to jail from the interrogation rooms in Doge´s Palace.
We sat down by the water, docked gondolas swaying in front of us, and wrote. We had made it to the end of our trip, and I could not believe it.
Cafè lattes and fruit and postcard writing. It was great.
Our next goal: a gondola ride.
Venezia, di dov´e lei?
After our arrival in Venice, we took a water bus to our little hostel in the middle of the city. We picked a perfect location. The room had three beds, a small, round table surrounded by three chairs and two fans, which I was thankful for.
The bedspreads were brown, and each bed had a night stand draped with pink fabric and a stylish lamp sitting atop. It was quaint.
We got settled, showered after our long, dirty ferry ride and set out to find food.
We ended up walking into this little pizza joint with the hugest slices of pizza I´ve ever seen. It reminded me of New York for some reason. I ordered a slice of cheese, and they took an already-cooked slice and threw it in the oven for a few minutes.
It tasted like heaven. And I was so hungry.
We walked around for a bit, to the train station to make reservations, through the shops lining the streets, which where packed with tourists.
And then we decided to nap.
We awoke again in time for dinner and walked in the opposite direction we had gone earlier that day. Spotting a cute restaurant with an even more attractive waiter, we sat down for some pasta and salad.
It´s funny ordering Italian food, because the Spanish language is so similar to Italian, so it´s relatively easy to pronounce the names of the dishes correctly.
Well, this got the waiters speculating where we were from. We thought we´d have a little fun with them.
So we started speaking in Spanish instead of English. Now they were really intrigued. We sparked their interest so much that one of them actually came over and asked where we were from. He asked Leslie, and she answered Mexico, and I watched as his inquiring expression quickly changed into pleasant surprise. ¨Oh, Mexico!¨ I didn´t bother pointing out that I was American. Sometimes it´s just better to be silent.
We strolled into the street again, admiring the amazing nooks and crannies of the city.
As we walked, we saw some necklaces we liked and I drove a hard bargain with the vendor. ¨Twenty-five¨ he told me in Italian. No thanks, I told him in Spanish, ¨I saw a similar necklace in the same box marked at 10, and I´m not paying more than that.¨
So he gave us two necklaces for 20.
Honestly, I wasn´t that sold on the necklace anyways, that´s why I wouldn´t take it for 25, or even 20 or 15. But I´m glad I got it for 10.
We walked to the Rialto bridge, over the Grand Canal and were awestruck. It´s just so beautiful.
We sat down at one of the high-end restaurants right next to the water for some wine and cheese.
We ordered two glasses of Sauvignon and two plates of cheese. I have never tasted wine that good. Our eyes widened as we took our first sip. It was delicious. The perfect complement to the array of assorted cheeses that our waiter brought out.
One of my favorite memories in Venice.
Deciding to call it an early night, we returned to our hostel and were about to go to bed when our roommate came in.
Earlier that day, when we had come back to nap, we had seen our roommate´s clothing drying and tried to speculate how old she would be.
The clothes were pretty plain, the small shirt hanging up was a light pink, and we concluded that she must be a little older to be traveling alone.
We were so wrong.
Our roommate was a guy from Japan, traveling after his studies in Europe. He was nice, on his way to Greece, and so we gave him some tips on where he should go and what he should see. He really appreciated that.
What a day.
The bedspreads were brown, and each bed had a night stand draped with pink fabric and a stylish lamp sitting atop. It was quaint.
We got settled, showered after our long, dirty ferry ride and set out to find food.
We ended up walking into this little pizza joint with the hugest slices of pizza I´ve ever seen. It reminded me of New York for some reason. I ordered a slice of cheese, and they took an already-cooked slice and threw it in the oven for a few minutes.
It tasted like heaven. And I was so hungry.
We walked around for a bit, to the train station to make reservations, through the shops lining the streets, which where packed with tourists.
And then we decided to nap.
We awoke again in time for dinner and walked in the opposite direction we had gone earlier that day. Spotting a cute restaurant with an even more attractive waiter, we sat down for some pasta and salad.
It´s funny ordering Italian food, because the Spanish language is so similar to Italian, so it´s relatively easy to pronounce the names of the dishes correctly.
Well, this got the waiters speculating where we were from. We thought we´d have a little fun with them.
So we started speaking in Spanish instead of English. Now they were really intrigued. We sparked their interest so much that one of them actually came over and asked where we were from. He asked Leslie, and she answered Mexico, and I watched as his inquiring expression quickly changed into pleasant surprise. ¨Oh, Mexico!¨ I didn´t bother pointing out that I was American. Sometimes it´s just better to be silent.
We strolled into the street again, admiring the amazing nooks and crannies of the city.
As we walked, we saw some necklaces we liked and I drove a hard bargain with the vendor. ¨Twenty-five¨ he told me in Italian. No thanks, I told him in Spanish, ¨I saw a similar necklace in the same box marked at 10, and I´m not paying more than that.¨
So he gave us two necklaces for 20.
Honestly, I wasn´t that sold on the necklace anyways, that´s why I wouldn´t take it for 25, or even 20 or 15. But I´m glad I got it for 10.
We walked to the Rialto bridge, over the Grand Canal and were awestruck. It´s just so beautiful.
We sat down at one of the high-end restaurants right next to the water for some wine and cheese.
We ordered two glasses of Sauvignon and two plates of cheese. I have never tasted wine that good. Our eyes widened as we took our first sip. It was delicious. The perfect complement to the array of assorted cheeses that our waiter brought out.
One of my favorite memories in Venice.
Deciding to call it an early night, we returned to our hostel and were about to go to bed when our roommate came in.
Earlier that day, when we had come back to nap, we had seen our roommate´s clothing drying and tried to speculate how old she would be.
The clothes were pretty plain, the small shirt hanging up was a light pink, and we concluded that she must be a little older to be traveling alone.
We were so wrong.
Our roommate was a guy from Japan, traveling after his studies in Europe. He was nice, on his way to Greece, and so we gave him some tips on where he should go and what he should see. He really appreciated that.
What a day.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Two nights and 37 hours on a ferry
So the word ferry is really just a technicality. We boarded what we would call an elegant cruise ship. State of the art, first-class service with valance lights and all. And yet, we found out that, without a cabin key, we can´t really enjoy its amenities.
Sleeping in the hallways is regulated on this guy, too fine and fancy to let the wild 3rd class run free, right?
We actually weren´t allowed to take luggage through any of the eating areas, the cafe, or the casino. Well, when you don´t have a room to stick your stuff, that makes things a little complicated, no?
We staked out a spot on the deck, under the open sky, which we eventually ended up moving to a spot under the rooftop when we found out that we were getting soaked by humidity. (During the night, water collected only on the uncovered portion of the ferry). Furthermore, I kept waking up because the wind was blowing my covers away - and by covers, I mean my rain jacket and tiny bath towel.
But finding a spot was hilarious. Not because of anything we did, but because we were obviously amateurs at this whole overnight ferry thing. People literally set up tents on deck, others blew up air mattresses and took out bed sheets, and some did both. Other brought pool floaties to sleep on, and then there was an abundance of sleeping bags.
And we all just lined up, one by one, and lay down next to each other. Some gathered chairs around their sleeping area so they could sit the next day. We could not believe it.
Some hung up their towels and clothes on clotheslines on the ferry too. Man oh man.
I spread out my tiny little airplane blanket and my even smaller bath towel on the floor of the deck and layed down, spreading my raincoat over myself as a cover. My backpack became my pillow, along with a couple of clothing items I pulled out of it. Good times.
The boat docked the next morning somewhere before continuing to Venice, and people poured onto the deck. It was pretty crowded before, but I could not believe the number of people that boarded. And we packed in like sardines. There were sleeping bodies everywhere - just everywhere. It´s a sight like I´ve never seen before. Families, couples, groups of friends, anyone and everyone. Why didn´t anyone write about this in our European travel guides?
During the full day on board, people tanned, they swam, they ate, they drank, they played cards, they read, and so many just slept through the sunlight.
We grabbed our valuables and toted them with us, hoping our clothes would be okay sitting on the deck. We wanted to eat, and that was the only way to do it unless we wanted to each eat solo.
We had lunch in the nice restaurant, and dinner in the self service. Amazingly enough, we spent the same amount of money at each meal. Between lunch and dinner, we layed out and read, and after dinner we drank excellent coffee drinks and lost ourselves in literature for about an hour in the cafe. And then we went back out to our sleeping quarters and fell asleep soon enough. So it was a pretty leisurely day.
The next morning, I woke up around 6 am, just in time to see the sun rise off of the coast of Italy. It was incredible. I will not forget the beauty of that morning, regardless of the fact that I had sleep two nights on the dirty concrete deck with sweaty bodies sprawled out everywhere.
I wouldn´t trade the experience for anything.
We watched our arrival in Venice from the ferry window, backpacks mounted on our poor backs. It was the last city on our trip.
Sleeping in the hallways is regulated on this guy, too fine and fancy to let the wild 3rd class run free, right?
We actually weren´t allowed to take luggage through any of the eating areas, the cafe, or the casino. Well, when you don´t have a room to stick your stuff, that makes things a little complicated, no?
We staked out a spot on the deck, under the open sky, which we eventually ended up moving to a spot under the rooftop when we found out that we were getting soaked by humidity. (During the night, water collected only on the uncovered portion of the ferry). Furthermore, I kept waking up because the wind was blowing my covers away - and by covers, I mean my rain jacket and tiny bath towel.
But finding a spot was hilarious. Not because of anything we did, but because we were obviously amateurs at this whole overnight ferry thing. People literally set up tents on deck, others blew up air mattresses and took out bed sheets, and some did both. Other brought pool floaties to sleep on, and then there was an abundance of sleeping bags.
And we all just lined up, one by one, and lay down next to each other. Some gathered chairs around their sleeping area so they could sit the next day. We could not believe it.
Some hung up their towels and clothes on clotheslines on the ferry too. Man oh man.
I spread out my tiny little airplane blanket and my even smaller bath towel on the floor of the deck and layed down, spreading my raincoat over myself as a cover. My backpack became my pillow, along with a couple of clothing items I pulled out of it. Good times.
The boat docked the next morning somewhere before continuing to Venice, and people poured onto the deck. It was pretty crowded before, but I could not believe the number of people that boarded. And we packed in like sardines. There were sleeping bodies everywhere - just everywhere. It´s a sight like I´ve never seen before. Families, couples, groups of friends, anyone and everyone. Why didn´t anyone write about this in our European travel guides?
During the full day on board, people tanned, they swam, they ate, they drank, they played cards, they read, and so many just slept through the sunlight.
We grabbed our valuables and toted them with us, hoping our clothes would be okay sitting on the deck. We wanted to eat, and that was the only way to do it unless we wanted to each eat solo.
We had lunch in the nice restaurant, and dinner in the self service. Amazingly enough, we spent the same amount of money at each meal. Between lunch and dinner, we layed out and read, and after dinner we drank excellent coffee drinks and lost ourselves in literature for about an hour in the cafe. And then we went back out to our sleeping quarters and fell asleep soon enough. So it was a pretty leisurely day.
The next morning, I woke up around 6 am, just in time to see the sun rise off of the coast of Italy. It was incredible. I will not forget the beauty of that morning, regardless of the fact that I had sleep two nights on the dirty concrete deck with sweaty bodies sprawled out everywhere.
I wouldn´t trade the experience for anything.
We watched our arrival in Venice from the ferry window, backpacks mounted on our poor backs. It was the last city on our trip.
Fire in Greece
For someone who loves to read the news and watch CNN in the morning, one of the hardest things about being abroad is the inability to keep up with current events. And every time we hit an internet cafe, we spent all of our time keeping in touch with people at home. Newspapers are in different languages, as is the television, so we can cross that off the list of options too. It´s tough.
A couple hours before our train left from Athens to Patras, we´re using the internet in our hotel, and the news is on. We can´t understand anything, but we can decipher that there´s a big fire, and it´s a big deal.
Well, we walked across the street to the station, and we ate lunch outside at the station´s cafe. When we get up to leave, we look down at our bags and there are little white specks all over our backpacks. What is this, we ask each other, cigarette ash? Chipped paint? Weird...
But we board the train to the port at Patras, and as we´re sitting there, I look out the window and white specks are falling from the sky. What...and then I realize that the white specks on our bags were ashes from the fire. And I remember feeling so frustrated that I couldn´t understand what was happening. I mean, here we sit in Greece while something big is happening, and we have no idea what, where, when or why. And we could just see the importance on the faces of people, glued to the television, looking out at the ash.
I actually looked at the women sitting across from me and asked her if she spoke English. A little, she said, and I asked about the fire.
She said, with difficulty, that there was a big fire on a mountain very near Athens, but that was all she could manage to communicate.
The train bumps along the tracks to Patras, and we can see an enormous clould of smoke covering the sky. And then I look up and see that the sun is a burning red color from the screen of smoke sitting in the sky. Wow.
In Patras, we go to a Greek restaurant and the news is on, covering the fire. Our waitress speaks English very well, so I asked her what was going on. She explained that there were actually 4 separate fires, two near Athens, and one near Patras. She said that more than 50 people had been killed and explained that they were members of a village trapped by the fire. Apparently they could not escape, and the helicopters could not land there to rescue them because it was too windy. It was so sad.
She also told us that the restaurant´s internet was down because of damage caused by the fire, which is a hard thing to be sad about when Greece is mourning casualties. Putting things into perspective.
Leslie and I sat and ate and talked for a almost 3 hours with the news running in the background, and then it was time to continue on to Italy.
A couple hours before our train left from Athens to Patras, we´re using the internet in our hotel, and the news is on. We can´t understand anything, but we can decipher that there´s a big fire, and it´s a big deal.
Well, we walked across the street to the station, and we ate lunch outside at the station´s cafe. When we get up to leave, we look down at our bags and there are little white specks all over our backpacks. What is this, we ask each other, cigarette ash? Chipped paint? Weird...
But we board the train to the port at Patras, and as we´re sitting there, I look out the window and white specks are falling from the sky. What...and then I realize that the white specks on our bags were ashes from the fire. And I remember feeling so frustrated that I couldn´t understand what was happening. I mean, here we sit in Greece while something big is happening, and we have no idea what, where, when or why. And we could just see the importance on the faces of people, glued to the television, looking out at the ash.
I actually looked at the women sitting across from me and asked her if she spoke English. A little, she said, and I asked about the fire.
She said, with difficulty, that there was a big fire on a mountain very near Athens, but that was all she could manage to communicate.
The train bumps along the tracks to Patras, and we can see an enormous clould of smoke covering the sky. And then I look up and see that the sun is a burning red color from the screen of smoke sitting in the sky. Wow.
In Patras, we go to a Greek restaurant and the news is on, covering the fire. Our waitress speaks English very well, so I asked her what was going on. She explained that there were actually 4 separate fires, two near Athens, and one near Patras. She said that more than 50 people had been killed and explained that they were members of a village trapped by the fire. Apparently they could not escape, and the helicopters could not land there to rescue them because it was too windy. It was so sad.
She also told us that the restaurant´s internet was down because of damage caused by the fire, which is a hard thing to be sad about when Greece is mourning casualties. Putting things into perspective.
Leslie and I sat and ate and talked for a almost 3 hours with the news running in the background, and then it was time to continue on to Italy.
August 24th - My alcohol-free, 21st birthday
We spent most of our day traveling, minus a seven-hour ferry layover in Mykonos. Which actually turned out to be great, because we got to see a second Greek isle.
Leslie had read a little about the island´s history on the internet the night before, so she filled me in.
In the past, Mykonos had been and island where exiles were sent, including homosexuals. So now the gay community on the island flourishes, and also attracts many gay tourists. That also means that the nightlife (bars, clubs, etc.) on the island is prevalent, which became more and more obvious as day turned into night.
We trekked to a place known as Little Venice because of the way the ocean-side buildings resemble the Italian city. It was a long, sweaty walk uphill, but we made it to the ocean and walked along the narrow streets past so many little shops.
We arrived a couple of hours before sunset, so after walking around for awhile, we sat down to have dinner at a restaurant on the ocean.
And when I say on the ocean, I am not exaggerating. There was a whole line of different restaurants, and the ocean water actually splashes onto the sidewalk as people walk along.
We chose a more elegant restaurant and sat down at a table no more than 10 feet away from the water just as the sun was beginning to set.
We ordered Greek salads and a pasta dish with seafood to split. It was great.
And then Leslie pulled out a birthday card for me and some earrings that I had pointed out in a little shop earlier that day. I never suspected anything, the little sneak.
While we were eating, an Asian couple sat down at the table next to us. And, because it was getting dimmer, the man (naturally) pulled out a light attached to a headband and strapped it to the front of his forehead. One of the highlights of my night.
The ever-so-strange manager of the restaurant also talked to us for a bit, but we told him we were Mexican and only spoke back in Spanish. He didn´t know Spanish, so he had to communicate mostly with gestures and some broken English. Good times.
He actually brought us these drinks called ouzas that tasted like black liquorice, telling us that it helps the digestive process. Gross, so gross. I barely even took a sip. When he wasn´t looking, Leslie actually threw hers out onto the beach, and then I poured half of mine into hers to make him think that we had drank a bit. Hehe, sucker.
Then a clown from Germany strolled by looking for some work. He offered to make us a heart, but, unfortunately for him, I think he may have miscalculated and guessed that we were a romantic couple.
Nope, no love here buddy, but good luck in your endeavors.
But then the ever-so-strange manager saved the Clown´s job, and bought the heart for us. Aww. Gracias, señor.
And that was our 7-hour trip to Mykonos. We walked back to the port, took a bus to another port, and waited for our ferry to arrive to take us back to Athens.
We grabbed a booth in the dining area and slept for about 4 hours until the boat docked around 3 am. Taxi to the train station while dozing in the back seat.
Not wanted to sleep on the ground outside the station, we wandered to the nearest hotel to sleep and shower until our train departure at 3 pm.
Looking back, I´m so glad we did that, considering we would spend the next two nights sleeping on a concrete deck.
Leslie had read a little about the island´s history on the internet the night before, so she filled me in.
In the past, Mykonos had been and island where exiles were sent, including homosexuals. So now the gay community on the island flourishes, and also attracts many gay tourists. That also means that the nightlife (bars, clubs, etc.) on the island is prevalent, which became more and more obvious as day turned into night.
We trekked to a place known as Little Venice because of the way the ocean-side buildings resemble the Italian city. It was a long, sweaty walk uphill, but we made it to the ocean and walked along the narrow streets past so many little shops.
We arrived a couple of hours before sunset, so after walking around for awhile, we sat down to have dinner at a restaurant on the ocean.
And when I say on the ocean, I am not exaggerating. There was a whole line of different restaurants, and the ocean water actually splashes onto the sidewalk as people walk along.
We chose a more elegant restaurant and sat down at a table no more than 10 feet away from the water just as the sun was beginning to set.
We ordered Greek salads and a pasta dish with seafood to split. It was great.
And then Leslie pulled out a birthday card for me and some earrings that I had pointed out in a little shop earlier that day. I never suspected anything, the little sneak.
While we were eating, an Asian couple sat down at the table next to us. And, because it was getting dimmer, the man (naturally) pulled out a light attached to a headband and strapped it to the front of his forehead. One of the highlights of my night.
The ever-so-strange manager of the restaurant also talked to us for a bit, but we told him we were Mexican and only spoke back in Spanish. He didn´t know Spanish, so he had to communicate mostly with gestures and some broken English. Good times.
He actually brought us these drinks called ouzas that tasted like black liquorice, telling us that it helps the digestive process. Gross, so gross. I barely even took a sip. When he wasn´t looking, Leslie actually threw hers out onto the beach, and then I poured half of mine into hers to make him think that we had drank a bit. Hehe, sucker.
Then a clown from Germany strolled by looking for some work. He offered to make us a heart, but, unfortunately for him, I think he may have miscalculated and guessed that we were a romantic couple.
Nope, no love here buddy, but good luck in your endeavors.
But then the ever-so-strange manager saved the Clown´s job, and bought the heart for us. Aww. Gracias, señor.
And that was our 7-hour trip to Mykonos. We walked back to the port, took a bus to another port, and waited for our ferry to arrive to take us back to Athens.
We grabbed a booth in the dining area and slept for about 4 hours until the boat docked around 3 am. Taxi to the train station while dozing in the back seat.
Not wanted to sleep on the ground outside the station, we wandered to the nearest hotel to sleep and shower until our train departure at 3 pm.
Looking back, I´m so glad we did that, considering we would spend the next two nights sleeping on a concrete deck.
Santorini Mou
Leslie asked the owner of a convenient store where we should go for dinner on our last night on the island.
Santorini Mou, he said, like the cow (mooOOooo). Apparently the owner was good friends with Greenday and Jennifer Aniston had eaten there once before.
We decide to give it a try.
It´s just off of the main road, enclosed by plants and vegetation, so one would never guess how amazing it is while strolling by.
But once we walked through the entrance, we fell in love.
The eating area is outside, but surrounded by tall plants and vines to give the restaurant a more intimate feel. Little odds and ends hung everywhere for decoration, including empty wine bottles, drawings on the wall, strings of lights strewn about, and photos of past customers. The owner also passed around an album with pictures of previous customers and a guest book to sign. It was great.
We sit down and order a couple of smaller dishes to try some different foods, and as we´re waiting for our food, the owner a friend begin to play their guitars.
More customers began filing in, and a couple even start dancing traditional Greek dances. All this while we enjoy every bite of our delicious food.
We sat there for hours, marveling at the friendly environment the Greek owner was able to create. Customers singing, dancing, and mingling with each other.
I kept thinking, can we be Greek too? We thanked the owner for his hospitality and left rather reluctantly.
Back the Thira - ever so slowly - on our quad, seeing as that it was nearing midnight and the roads were pitch black. I think I was praying the entire ride back.
Santorini Mou, he said, like the cow (mooOOooo). Apparently the owner was good friends with Greenday and Jennifer Aniston had eaten there once before.
We decide to give it a try.
It´s just off of the main road, enclosed by plants and vegetation, so one would never guess how amazing it is while strolling by.
But once we walked through the entrance, we fell in love.
The eating area is outside, but surrounded by tall plants and vines to give the restaurant a more intimate feel. Little odds and ends hung everywhere for decoration, including empty wine bottles, drawings on the wall, strings of lights strewn about, and photos of past customers. The owner also passed around an album with pictures of previous customers and a guest book to sign. It was great.
We sit down and order a couple of smaller dishes to try some different foods, and as we´re waiting for our food, the owner a friend begin to play their guitars.
More customers began filing in, and a couple even start dancing traditional Greek dances. All this while we enjoy every bite of our delicious food.
We sat there for hours, marveling at the friendly environment the Greek owner was able to create. Customers singing, dancing, and mingling with each other.
I kept thinking, can we be Greek too? We thanked the owner for his hospitality and left rather reluctantly.
Back the Thira - ever so slowly - on our quad, seeing as that it was nearing midnight and the roads were pitch black. I think I was praying the entire ride back.
This must be the night life...
Going back in time a bit to our first night...
Here we are in Santorini, this amazing little Greek island, and Leslie and I go out tonight looking for the wild night life that we've heard so much about.
Heading into town after dinner (we're about 15 minutes away from Thira by foot from our hotel). On our way in, we decide to stop and use the internet since we had seen a sign earlier today that said ¨Internet 24-7.¨
Cool, we're in.
While walking, we were talking about how we weren't so sure about this crazy night life.
We had been into town today, and we hadn't seen any bars or clubs or anything like that - just really touristy restaurants and shops. Which is great, we definitely enjoyed playing the tourist part, but we were also craving some good Greek music.
So anyways, we arrive at the internet cafe around midnight, walk in, and we stop dead in our tracks.
Picture about 4 long rows of computers crammed into the shop, each station accompanied by a comfy, black-leather chair. Now picture the same room packed with people-specifically people of the male gender-all playing video games. No, we didn´t see their computer screens. Rather, it was the shouting, quick finger movement and intense concentration permeating the air that initally gave it away.
I looked at Leslie and said, "This must be the night life we've been hearing about!"
Made my day.
Here we are in Santorini, this amazing little Greek island, and Leslie and I go out tonight looking for the wild night life that we've heard so much about.
Heading into town after dinner (we're about 15 minutes away from Thira by foot from our hotel). On our way in, we decide to stop and use the internet since we had seen a sign earlier today that said ¨Internet 24-7.¨
Cool, we're in.
While walking, we were talking about how we weren't so sure about this crazy night life.
We had been into town today, and we hadn't seen any bars or clubs or anything like that - just really touristy restaurants and shops. Which is great, we definitely enjoyed playing the tourist part, but we were also craving some good Greek music.
So anyways, we arrive at the internet cafe around midnight, walk in, and we stop dead in our tracks.
Picture about 4 long rows of computers crammed into the shop, each station accompanied by a comfy, black-leather chair. Now picture the same room packed with people-specifically people of the male gender-all playing video games. No, we didn´t see their computer screens. Rather, it was the shouting, quick finger movement and intense concentration permeating the air that initally gave it away.
I looked at Leslie and said, "This must be the night life we've been hearing about!"
Made my day.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Swimming, Sunset, and Santorini Mou
Our second day in Santorini was one of my favorite days in our entire trip.
The day before, we had booked a boat tour of Santorini´s volcano, so we got up early and headed to the bus stop.
Back down around the curves on the island cliffs, we arrived at the port and boarded our boat. They would first sail out to the volcano, where we would be able to hike, and then to the hot springs so we could swim in them.
The little island where the dormant volcano sits is one of the dryest places I have every been to. And I live in Arizona´s ¨dry heat.¨ Just rocks and rocks and more rocks and dirt.
But, in it´s own way, it was beautiful.
The island terrain consisted primarily of craters and hills that formed because of the caved-in land. Different shades of black, grey, brown and red surrounded us, and as we hiked up to the highest point (which isn´t that high in the air) the wind just overtook us.
People literally had to brace themselves when standing in one place so as not to fall over. It was like riding the metro in Paris...if you can´t grab onto railing somewhere, you´ve got to take a stance that will keep you upright as the cars jerk forward.
But it was great, and we were completely surrounded by deep, blue ocean.
We couldn´t wait to swim in the springs.
Everyone boards the boat again, and they continue around to another side of the volcano where the hot springs are located. The springs are surrounded on three sides by the volcano, and it´s too shallow near the springs for the boat to sail right up next to them. So instead, the boat anchors about 30-40 yards away from the entrance to the springs and the captain tells us to jump in.
Bombs away!
We throw off our cover-ups, leaving our things behind and free fall into the ocean. That jump into the salt water below was, by far, one of the coolest things I have ever done. And the rush of water felt great.
And then we swam into the springs. The color of the water quickly morphs from a deep blue to a rusty brown, and suddenly you feel the ocean floor beneath you.
We thought the springs would be hot, but they were lukewarm, which actually made the transition back into the cooler, open ocean a lot easier.
The mud in the springs is supposed to create miracles and heal sickness and so on and so forth. I´m not sure that we were witnesses to anything spectacular, but it was an amazing experience nonetheless.
And then we swam back through the ocean and treaded water while people in front of us boarded the boat again, bobbing up and down with the waves.
Back in town, our first order of business is to snag a quad. We needed to use to to drive up to Oia to watch the amazing sunset that locals buzz about. The guy who loans out the quad tells us that we should also head out to Kamari to see the beach and eat lunch at on of the restaurants there. Sounds like a plan.
Now, just to be clear, in Santorini there are, more or less, five ways to get around. By car, by foot, by moped, by bus, or by quad. Walking to the tip of the island is not the most time efficient option, and mopeds can only be rented by those holding international licenses (which probably also holds true for cars). And we´d pretty much covered the bus riding. But I would say about 60% of the people on the road are using mopeds or quads. So it´s a pretty common thing on the island.
The scary part about this is realizing how fast you have to drive on a quad to keep up with regular traffic. And the even scarier part is discovering the sharp twists and turns of the roads.
Well, well, life is an adventure!
We zoom down to Kamari and...WOW. Welcome to paradise. It was the icing on the cake, truly. I didn´t even know that places that beautiful actually existed. In the words of Will Ferrell, it was ¨mind-bottling.¨
We parked our little yellow quad in the line of mopeds (ugh, lucky Europeans) and sat down at a restaurant right off of the beach. Clear blue water, people laying out among the cabanas, soft music at the restaurant, greek salad, calamari and wine. Like I said, welcome to paradise.
After a late lunch, we layed in the lawn chairs on the beach, reading and napping until it was time to head back toward town.
We zipped to our hotel on our newly purchased mode of transportation, cleaned up from our salty morning swim, and headed to the northernmost point on the island for sunset.
There is just something so incredible about watching the sun disappear over the ocean water. Slowly, the radiant circle is interrupted by a straight edge, eventually becoming a half-circle, moving until the last sliver of light disappears completely, leaving only shades of red, violet and indigo behind as evidence that the sun had shone that day.
We hopped back on our quad and drove down the road a bit to take more photos of the amazing blue and white haciendas that characterize Santorini.
And then it was dinner time.
The day before, we had booked a boat tour of Santorini´s volcano, so we got up early and headed to the bus stop.
Back down around the curves on the island cliffs, we arrived at the port and boarded our boat. They would first sail out to the volcano, where we would be able to hike, and then to the hot springs so we could swim in them.
The little island where the dormant volcano sits is one of the dryest places I have every been to. And I live in Arizona´s ¨dry heat.¨ Just rocks and rocks and more rocks and dirt.
But, in it´s own way, it was beautiful.
The island terrain consisted primarily of craters and hills that formed because of the caved-in land. Different shades of black, grey, brown and red surrounded us, and as we hiked up to the highest point (which isn´t that high in the air) the wind just overtook us.
People literally had to brace themselves when standing in one place so as not to fall over. It was like riding the metro in Paris...if you can´t grab onto railing somewhere, you´ve got to take a stance that will keep you upright as the cars jerk forward.
But it was great, and we were completely surrounded by deep, blue ocean.
We couldn´t wait to swim in the springs.
Everyone boards the boat again, and they continue around to another side of the volcano where the hot springs are located. The springs are surrounded on three sides by the volcano, and it´s too shallow near the springs for the boat to sail right up next to them. So instead, the boat anchors about 30-40 yards away from the entrance to the springs and the captain tells us to jump in.
Bombs away!
We throw off our cover-ups, leaving our things behind and free fall into the ocean. That jump into the salt water below was, by far, one of the coolest things I have ever done. And the rush of water felt great.
And then we swam into the springs. The color of the water quickly morphs from a deep blue to a rusty brown, and suddenly you feel the ocean floor beneath you.
We thought the springs would be hot, but they were lukewarm, which actually made the transition back into the cooler, open ocean a lot easier.
The mud in the springs is supposed to create miracles and heal sickness and so on and so forth. I´m not sure that we were witnesses to anything spectacular, but it was an amazing experience nonetheless.
And then we swam back through the ocean and treaded water while people in front of us boarded the boat again, bobbing up and down with the waves.
Back in town, our first order of business is to snag a quad. We needed to use to to drive up to Oia to watch the amazing sunset that locals buzz about. The guy who loans out the quad tells us that we should also head out to Kamari to see the beach and eat lunch at on of the restaurants there. Sounds like a plan.
Now, just to be clear, in Santorini there are, more or less, five ways to get around. By car, by foot, by moped, by bus, or by quad. Walking to the tip of the island is not the most time efficient option, and mopeds can only be rented by those holding international licenses (which probably also holds true for cars). And we´d pretty much covered the bus riding. But I would say about 60% of the people on the road are using mopeds or quads. So it´s a pretty common thing on the island.
The scary part about this is realizing how fast you have to drive on a quad to keep up with regular traffic. And the even scarier part is discovering the sharp twists and turns of the roads.
Well, well, life is an adventure!
We zoom down to Kamari and...WOW. Welcome to paradise. It was the icing on the cake, truly. I didn´t even know that places that beautiful actually existed. In the words of Will Ferrell, it was ¨mind-bottling.¨
We parked our little yellow quad in the line of mopeds (ugh, lucky Europeans) and sat down at a restaurant right off of the beach. Clear blue water, people laying out among the cabanas, soft music at the restaurant, greek salad, calamari and wine. Like I said, welcome to paradise.
After a late lunch, we layed in the lawn chairs on the beach, reading and napping until it was time to head back toward town.
We zipped to our hotel on our newly purchased mode of transportation, cleaned up from our salty morning swim, and headed to the northernmost point on the island for sunset.
There is just something so incredible about watching the sun disappear over the ocean water. Slowly, the radiant circle is interrupted by a straight edge, eventually becoming a half-circle, moving until the last sliver of light disappears completely, leaving only shades of red, violet and indigo behind as evidence that the sun had shone that day.
We hopped back on our quad and drove down the road a bit to take more photos of the amazing blue and white haciendas that characterize Santorini.
And then it was dinner time.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Thira (Fira) in beautiful Santorini
Before our trip, we had made reservations in an inexpensive hotel called Pension George.
George, the owner, picked us up in his van and quickly drove us up the winding streets of Santorini to the hotel.
It was an exhilarating ride, that´s for sure.
His wife introduced herself to us, showed us to our room, and we were just in awe of the incredible beauty of that place. All blue and white, brillant flowers and vibrant greenery around a cool, clear swimming pool. And that was just our hotel. Check-in now, check-out never.
The first thing we decide to do is go running. We run to the nearest beach from our pension, lose our sweaty running shirts, and jump into the Mediterranean (or, more technically, the Sea of Crete).
It was amazing.
We walked - a little painfully - in the black sand created by the volcano that erupted thousands of years ago and created the island. So much of the sand consists of black pebbles, so it´s not the silky little grains we encounter at many beaches in the Americas.
The run back up the side of the island was not as fun as our downhill jog to the beach, but we enjoyed the workout.
And then we were temporarily stalked again.
A guy pulls up and asks us where we´re going and if we need a ride.¨
¨No, thanks, we´re just going to the top of the hill. We´re getting exercise,¨ Leslie tells him.
Well, apparently he though we´d change our mind because he continues to drive beside us at a slow crawl. Leslie waves him along again, and finally he speeds up. Only to slow down and stop, and then turn around and come back.
And Jennifer lays down the law again. As he approaches with his window open, I literally yell, ¨WE DON´T WANT YOUR HELP, AND WE DON´T NEED A RIDE, OKAY!?!?¨
He accelerated and drove away after that, and we kept running back to our hotel.
I guess it´s a good thing I´ve got big guns.
We trek into town, hoping to rent some motopeds, but find out that you have to have an international or European license. Way to let the air out of that balloon.
But, the vendors told us, we can rent something with four wheels...for example, a quad.
We decide to save the quad rental for the next day, and spend our afternoon touring the capital.
Walking into Fira from our hotel, we admire the little shops and purchase some souvenirs.
We stake out a restaurant at the top of the hill among the shops. It sits right on the cliff´s edge, so we have an amazing, unobstructed view of the ocean in front of us. And that sea is the bluest body of water I have ever seen.
From our seats, we can also see Santorini´s volcano, which sits just west of the island.
Lunch was beautiful, relaxing and delicious.
And then we continued walking through the city, and then back to our hotel.
Leslie fell asleep by the pool, I fell asleep (pen and postcards in hand) in the hotel room, and we both had a good nap. We were going to try to watch the sunset before dinner, but decided that it would be too hard to get to a good, open place nearby, and so we went back and got ready for dinner.
Just down the road, there was a restaurant with an electric atmosphere, packed with people. We´ll take that one.
We ordered a fish dish and Greek salad and bread. Started with the salad, and then they bring out the fish. It was literally four cooked fish, just sitting there on the plate with their eyes and all. It smelled delicious.
And no worries, it was.
We ate well, with yogurt and fruit for dessert, and then continued on foot into town.
But that meal gets five stars in my book.
George, the owner, picked us up in his van and quickly drove us up the winding streets of Santorini to the hotel.
It was an exhilarating ride, that´s for sure.
His wife introduced herself to us, showed us to our room, and we were just in awe of the incredible beauty of that place. All blue and white, brillant flowers and vibrant greenery around a cool, clear swimming pool. And that was just our hotel. Check-in now, check-out never.
The first thing we decide to do is go running. We run to the nearest beach from our pension, lose our sweaty running shirts, and jump into the Mediterranean (or, more technically, the Sea of Crete).
It was amazing.
We walked - a little painfully - in the black sand created by the volcano that erupted thousands of years ago and created the island. So much of the sand consists of black pebbles, so it´s not the silky little grains we encounter at many beaches in the Americas.
The run back up the side of the island was not as fun as our downhill jog to the beach, but we enjoyed the workout.
And then we were temporarily stalked again.
A guy pulls up and asks us where we´re going and if we need a ride.¨
¨No, thanks, we´re just going to the top of the hill. We´re getting exercise,¨ Leslie tells him.
Well, apparently he though we´d change our mind because he continues to drive beside us at a slow crawl. Leslie waves him along again, and finally he speeds up. Only to slow down and stop, and then turn around and come back.
And Jennifer lays down the law again. As he approaches with his window open, I literally yell, ¨WE DON´T WANT YOUR HELP, AND WE DON´T NEED A RIDE, OKAY!?!?¨
He accelerated and drove away after that, and we kept running back to our hotel.
I guess it´s a good thing I´ve got big guns.
We trek into town, hoping to rent some motopeds, but find out that you have to have an international or European license. Way to let the air out of that balloon.
But, the vendors told us, we can rent something with four wheels...for example, a quad.
We decide to save the quad rental for the next day, and spend our afternoon touring the capital.
Walking into Fira from our hotel, we admire the little shops and purchase some souvenirs.
We stake out a restaurant at the top of the hill among the shops. It sits right on the cliff´s edge, so we have an amazing, unobstructed view of the ocean in front of us. And that sea is the bluest body of water I have ever seen.
From our seats, we can also see Santorini´s volcano, which sits just west of the island.
Lunch was beautiful, relaxing and delicious.
And then we continued walking through the city, and then back to our hotel.
Leslie fell asleep by the pool, I fell asleep (pen and postcards in hand) in the hotel room, and we both had a good nap. We were going to try to watch the sunset before dinner, but decided that it would be too hard to get to a good, open place nearby, and so we went back and got ready for dinner.
Just down the road, there was a restaurant with an electric atmosphere, packed with people. We´ll take that one.
We ordered a fish dish and Greek salad and bread. Started with the salad, and then they bring out the fish. It was literally four cooked fish, just sitting there on the plate with their eyes and all. It smelled delicious.
And no worries, it was.
We ate well, with yogurt and fruit for dessert, and then continued on foot into town.
But that meal gets five stars in my book.
Last day in Athens, to Santorini by night
We could have done a lot of things on our last day in Athens, but we chose to take it easy.
We had a late breakfast - delicious pastries - read a little bit, and then went to make some boat and train reservations.
Back to the apartment to grab our turtle shells (or backpacks, as they´re more commonly known) and then off to get some food.
We said goodbye to our host, with whom we only spent about 20 minutes. He was sleeping on the couch in his undies, so we had to wake him up in one of the most childish displays of giggling I have experienced since the third grade. If you were wondering, Leslie and I were the ones giggling before we tapped his shoulder. It felt like boys had coodies again and we had to raise our hands to go to the bathroom.
I think he was a little embarrassed to be caught, uh, with his pants down, so we left the room and let him clothe himself. Good times.
And then we went back to our little Greek restaurant - for the third time. If you thought twice wasn´t bad enough, welcome to our trip. The food was just that good and that affordable.
On to Pireaus, the port in Athens, so we could grab good benches on the night ferry to Santorini.
We slept on the benches until about 3 am, and then decided it was too cold and wet, so we picked out a good spot in the hallway and passed out. What can we say? Sleeping in luxury will just do that to you sometimes.
Around 8 am, we arrived at the port in Santorini. You would not believe the deep blue of the water as your boat docks at shore. We were so excited!
We had a late breakfast - delicious pastries - read a little bit, and then went to make some boat and train reservations.
Back to the apartment to grab our turtle shells (or backpacks, as they´re more commonly known) and then off to get some food.
We said goodbye to our host, with whom we only spent about 20 minutes. He was sleeping on the couch in his undies, so we had to wake him up in one of the most childish displays of giggling I have experienced since the third grade. If you were wondering, Leslie and I were the ones giggling before we tapped his shoulder. It felt like boys had coodies again and we had to raise our hands to go to the bathroom.
I think he was a little embarrassed to be caught, uh, with his pants down, so we left the room and let him clothe himself. Good times.
And then we went back to our little Greek restaurant - for the third time. If you thought twice wasn´t bad enough, welcome to our trip. The food was just that good and that affordable.
On to Pireaus, the port in Athens, so we could grab good benches on the night ferry to Santorini.
We slept on the benches until about 3 am, and then decided it was too cold and wet, so we picked out a good spot in the hallway and passed out. What can we say? Sleeping in luxury will just do that to you sometimes.
Around 8 am, we arrived at the port in Santorini. You would not believe the deep blue of the water as your boat docks at shore. We were so excited!
Friday, September 7, 2007
The Pakistani
So we´re chowing down some great food at our little Greek restaurant and we put in an order for baklava.
Oh, dessert.
We think it all started when Leslie tried to take an inconspicuous picture of a skinny old man that I pointed out, sitting down with one glass of wine and no food.
¨He´s gonna get toasted!¨ I joked, (toasted being my new word for inebriated).
Well, Leslie forgot about the flash, and so it was pretty obvious that a picture had been taken. The old man just sits there, but as we´re waiting for our baklava, a Pakistani man in his late 20´s comes over to our table and asks where we are from.
Uhm, the US?
He tells us he´s from Pakistan and starts making small talk. So awkward.
I can tell he´s been drinking, and furthermore he doesn´t understand us well. But he wants to know if we want to have a drink.
No, Leslie says, we´re actually about to leave. We just are going to finish our dinner and go.
And then he puts his hand on Leslie´s shoulder and tells her that he likes her and he thinks she´s pretty.
¨Oookaaay...we just want to finish our dinner now,¨Leslie says.
And the man repeats himself.
Okay, my patience is up, and he is making us really uncomfortable.
¨GOOD-BYE. You understand that in English at least?¨
Oh, he says, you want me to leave?
¨Yes, please leave RIGHT NOW,¨ I say forcefully. ¨NOW.¨ And finally he goes.
Leslie laughs at how quickly my temperment changed. Well, well, what can I say?
Our waiter comes out with our delicious baklava, and then the Pakistani returns.
What IS this guy´s issue anyways?
¨¿Quieren una cerveza?¨ he asks.
¨NO!¨I answer. ¨You need to LEAVE NOW.¨
And then I grab our waiter and tell him that the Pakistani is bothering us (sounds juvenile, I know, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And when you´re being temporarily stalked by a foreigner in Greece, anything goes).
We finish our delicious dessert while the Pakistani takes a picture of us from his table across the alleyway with his three friends. So comforting.
And then we make a run for it.
Back to the bathroom to throw them off our scent, then through the back of the restaurant and out the side door.
Brisk walk to the main street, dodging behind trees and trash bins and glancing back to make sure no one is following us. We continue walking until we come across the only place where travelers can find solace in another country.
Starbucks!
Ha.
We sit down and journal for few minutes, then continue walking along the street. We found a bookstore, or better yet, we discovered treasure. Starved for news, I pick up a Newsweek and a Time magazine and (for fun) a book by Brasilian writer Paolo Coehlo.
And then we sit down to read at a McDonald´s until about 11:30 when we made our way back to Petros´s apartment.
What a crazy night.
Oh, dessert.
We think it all started when Leslie tried to take an inconspicuous picture of a skinny old man that I pointed out, sitting down with one glass of wine and no food.
¨He´s gonna get toasted!¨ I joked, (toasted being my new word for inebriated).
Well, Leslie forgot about the flash, and so it was pretty obvious that a picture had been taken. The old man just sits there, but as we´re waiting for our baklava, a Pakistani man in his late 20´s comes over to our table and asks where we are from.
Uhm, the US?
He tells us he´s from Pakistan and starts making small talk. So awkward.
I can tell he´s been drinking, and furthermore he doesn´t understand us well. But he wants to know if we want to have a drink.
No, Leslie says, we´re actually about to leave. We just are going to finish our dinner and go.
And then he puts his hand on Leslie´s shoulder and tells her that he likes her and he thinks she´s pretty.
¨Oookaaay...we just want to finish our dinner now,¨Leslie says.
And the man repeats himself.
Okay, my patience is up, and he is making us really uncomfortable.
¨GOOD-BYE. You understand that in English at least?¨
Oh, he says, you want me to leave?
¨Yes, please leave RIGHT NOW,¨ I say forcefully. ¨NOW.¨ And finally he goes.
Leslie laughs at how quickly my temperment changed. Well, well, what can I say?
Our waiter comes out with our delicious baklava, and then the Pakistani returns.
What IS this guy´s issue anyways?
¨¿Quieren una cerveza?¨ he asks.
¨NO!¨I answer. ¨You need to LEAVE NOW.¨
And then I grab our waiter and tell him that the Pakistani is bothering us (sounds juvenile, I know, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And when you´re being temporarily stalked by a foreigner in Greece, anything goes).
We finish our delicious dessert while the Pakistani takes a picture of us from his table across the alleyway with his three friends. So comforting.
And then we make a run for it.
Back to the bathroom to throw them off our scent, then through the back of the restaurant and out the side door.
Brisk walk to the main street, dodging behind trees and trash bins and glancing back to make sure no one is following us. We continue walking until we come across the only place where travelers can find solace in another country.
Starbucks!
Ha.
We sit down and journal for few minutes, then continue walking along the street. We found a bookstore, or better yet, we discovered treasure. Starved for news, I pick up a Newsweek and a Time magazine and (for fun) a book by Brasilian writer Paolo Coehlo.
And then we sit down to read at a McDonald´s until about 11:30 when we made our way back to Petros´s apartment.
What a crazy night.
Friday, August 31, 2007
The Athenian Acropolis
Just before 4 am, coming back from the bar with our new communist friends, we were SO hungry because we hadn't eaten dinner. Our amazing host Cristina offered to cook some pasta and meat for us, putting already cooked noodles and pieces of beef into a frying pan and heating them up.
MMmmmm. No description needed.
Out late from our night with the communists, we slept until almost noon - and it was great.
No air conditioning in the apartment made for a hot and humid night, even with the fan on high, but such is life in Greece.
But now, what should we do with our day?
We decided to start with the Acropolis. Well, first lunch, then the Acropolis.
Petros lives in a great part of the city, just a short walk from a major metro station. We walked down towards the metro looking for restaurants on our way, and we found a great place.
It was an alley with four or five different Greek restaurants, tables set inside and out. We sat down just inside the open doors of one of the restaurants, right under a vent. Greece was hot - so different from France where we were in scarves, jackets and jeans.
We had the most delicious Greek meal! Wonderful Greek salad, pita bread hot off the grill, gyros pork, and fresh bread. So good.
And we were going to need the energy for our treacherous hike up to the Parthenon, at the very top of the Acropolis.
The entire Acropolis is huge. I just never expected it to be made up of so many different structures at that elevation. Wow.
We walked by ancient amphitheatres where plays were put on by the Greeks. Seats, sets and stages carved from stone. And they were just huge.
We continued climbing, enjoying the incredible view overlooking Athens as we went. We made it to the top platform where the Nike Athena Temple (I think it´s called) stands next to the Parthenon and another monument built for a Greek god. (Maybe Zeus?)
Unfortunately most of the information available for tourists was about the restoration and rebuilding of the structures themselves, not about the history of the monuments.
We strolled around for awhile, slipping on the rock beneath us (possibly marble) and admiring the kind of labor that must have been put into these buildings.
Just imagine carrying stone after stone up the side of this hill to be pieced together in order to create these amazing temples. And then there is the careful precision with which each stone must be sculpted. And these structures, or at least their remains, still stand today.
Coming back down, we saw a stand with frozen lemonade and could not resist. Those monopolizers draw in all the scorching little suckers descending from the Acropolis in the middle of the summer, so they can charge as much as they want .
We totally gave in and jumped on the bandwagon (strawberry mixed with lemonade), and then sat there and watched all the other little suckers after us as they were draw to the stand like mosquitoes to a lightbulb.
The vendor told us to be careful with our drinks. Why? Brain freeze.
Ha ha. We chuckled, but he told us, ¨No, I´m serious.¨
Oh.
I can hear the PSA now - ¨Parents, talk to your kids about brain freeze. They´ll listen.¨
Well, we were careful nonetheless, and those frozen lemonades were some of the best drinks we´ve ever tasted. Ever. It was just that hot.
Leslie and I wander around Athens for a bit, looking in little shops here and there. We head back towards Petros´s apartment, but he´s not there, so we try to reach him on his cell phone to ask if he wants to meet us for dinner. He says that he´s actually still at the hospital and plans to be there until 11 or so that night.
We tell him that we´ll see him back at his place, and we sit down to spend some time in an internet cafe.
And then we grab dinner at the same place we ate lunch. No joke, we really did it. Lunch was delicious, the restaurant was nearby, and the atmosphere was great.
MMmmmm. No description needed.
Out late from our night with the communists, we slept until almost noon - and it was great.
No air conditioning in the apartment made for a hot and humid night, even with the fan on high, but such is life in Greece.
But now, what should we do with our day?
We decided to start with the Acropolis. Well, first lunch, then the Acropolis.
Petros lives in a great part of the city, just a short walk from a major metro station. We walked down towards the metro looking for restaurants on our way, and we found a great place.
It was an alley with four or five different Greek restaurants, tables set inside and out. We sat down just inside the open doors of one of the restaurants, right under a vent. Greece was hot - so different from France where we were in scarves, jackets and jeans.
We had the most delicious Greek meal! Wonderful Greek salad, pita bread hot off the grill, gyros pork, and fresh bread. So good.
And we were going to need the energy for our treacherous hike up to the Parthenon, at the very top of the Acropolis.
The entire Acropolis is huge. I just never expected it to be made up of so many different structures at that elevation. Wow.
We walked by ancient amphitheatres where plays were put on by the Greeks. Seats, sets and stages carved from stone. And they were just huge.
We continued climbing, enjoying the incredible view overlooking Athens as we went. We made it to the top platform where the Nike Athena Temple (I think it´s called) stands next to the Parthenon and another monument built for a Greek god. (Maybe Zeus?)
Unfortunately most of the information available for tourists was about the restoration and rebuilding of the structures themselves, not about the history of the monuments.
We strolled around for awhile, slipping on the rock beneath us (possibly marble) and admiring the kind of labor that must have been put into these buildings.
Just imagine carrying stone after stone up the side of this hill to be pieced together in order to create these amazing temples. And then there is the careful precision with which each stone must be sculpted. And these structures, or at least their remains, still stand today.
Coming back down, we saw a stand with frozen lemonade and could not resist. Those monopolizers draw in all the scorching little suckers descending from the Acropolis in the middle of the summer, so they can charge as much as they want .
We totally gave in and jumped on the bandwagon (strawberry mixed with lemonade), and then sat there and watched all the other little suckers after us as they were draw to the stand like mosquitoes to a lightbulb.
The vendor told us to be careful with our drinks. Why? Brain freeze.
Ha ha. We chuckled, but he told us, ¨No, I´m serious.¨
Oh.
I can hear the PSA now - ¨Parents, talk to your kids about brain freeze. They´ll listen.¨
Well, we were careful nonetheless, and those frozen lemonades were some of the best drinks we´ve ever tasted. Ever. It was just that hot.
Leslie and I wander around Athens for a bit, looking in little shops here and there. We head back towards Petros´s apartment, but he´s not there, so we try to reach him on his cell phone to ask if he wants to meet us for dinner. He says that he´s actually still at the hospital and plans to be there until 11 or so that night.
We tell him that we´ll see him back at his place, and we sit down to spend some time in an internet cafe.
And then we grab dinner at the same place we ate lunch. No joke, we really did it. Lunch was delicious, the restaurant was nearby, and the atmosphere was great.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
The Communist Party
We had arranged to stay with a guy named Petros in Athens, so when we arrived late that night, we called him and got directions to his flat. He told us that he couldn't be there, unfortunately (we found out later that he was with his father in the hospital), but his roommate would be there and she could let us in.
We had a little trouble finding the place, and really just wandered around Athens for a little bit, but we eventually made it and rang the bell. "Third floor!" a girl shouted excitedly through the intercom, and once again when we entered the building. "Third floor!"
Up the circular staircase, bags mounted on our backs, Petros' roommate greeted us with open arms. "You're here!" Cristina said with a very Greek accent. "Come in, come in!"
Her friend was there with her and they were getting ready to go out for drinks. "Would you like to come?" they asked.
Sure!
And we were off.
The bar was in walking distance, so we walked and talked with the two girls. They were so nice, one of them was studying Greek literature, and the other, Cristina, had already graduated and was interested in fashion design.
And they were a part of the communist party in Athens, a fact that intrigued us.
The two girls told us that elections were in one week. They said that currently, students can attend universities for free and the people receive free healthcare, but the government wants to start privatizing many organizations similar to those.
They told us the next month is going to be crazy - that they are going to have to go out every night. "Why?" we asked.
And they explained to us that they want to convince people to vote for their party - to motivate people to change things. Keep in mind, they don't work for the party, they are just students and citizens of Greece.
You could tell they were not sure how we would react to their political standings. They obviously new that Americans are not keen on communism. But we thought it was so cool to come across such passion and dedication for a cause that currently makes up less than 5 % of the vote in Greece.
And as we sat down in this bar with a great atmosphere, we met several of their other friends who were also part of the communist party and they struggled through their English to explain what they believed.
They wanted equality - for all people to exist on a level playing field. They said that they know that the kind of change they are campaigning for is not something that they'll witness in their lifetime, but they want to work to improve things for their children, and their children's children.
Wow. How many people in the world are willing to dedicate their lives to a cause that they will never reap the benefits of? It made me question, am I? Hmm...
One of the girls was also explaining to us that she is working as a teacher, but it is hard to find work. So she has to live in the suburbs with her parents because she is only working part time right now outside of the city, because work in Athens is almost impossible to find if you have no previous experience.
She said she wants to be able to work full time, to be able to make a living for herself.
They asked us what we believed - about politics, about communism, and about capitalism.
They challenged us to fight for change - whatever our beliefs may be - because change has to start somewhere, and why not work for a better world in the future? So cool.
And they asked us about the Greek system. One girl turns to us and says that in movies, they see university students in groups doing stupid things, and they have Greek names. "Is this real?" she asked.
At first, we were confused...students doing stupid things? You mean parties?
No. She meant fraternities and sororities.
How do you explain the "Greek system" to students in Athens? Yea...so they use your alphabet...and make groups that put on social events - aka: keggers - and sometimes do community service? (Of course, the movies only depict the, uh, social aspects of the groups).
We did our best to explain them objectively, and they understood what we were saying, but they didn't get the system or why people would pay to be a part of it.
We laughed so hard later that they asked us if it was "real."
I kept imagining the situation reversed. Students in Athens in the AB group. Americans watching Greek movies of university students partying as a part of the group LMP. It sounds funny when put yourself in the position of a foreigner.
Ha. "Is this real?" I almost wished I could say no. Sorry, greek members.
We loved talking with their friends. They were so nice, and so interesting. And all of them made such a great effort to include us in the conversation, even though it was difficult for them to speak English. I hoped that my friends would do the same if someone came to visit from another country - to take the time to talk to them. We just felt so welcome.
And at the end of the night, all of them hugged and kissed us on each cheek, telling us what a pleasure it was to meet us and to enjoy our travels.
We had a little trouble finding the place, and really just wandered around Athens for a little bit, but we eventually made it and rang the bell. "Third floor!" a girl shouted excitedly through the intercom, and once again when we entered the building. "Third floor!"
Up the circular staircase, bags mounted on our backs, Petros' roommate greeted us with open arms. "You're here!" Cristina said with a very Greek accent. "Come in, come in!"
Her friend was there with her and they were getting ready to go out for drinks. "Would you like to come?" they asked.
Sure!
And we were off.
The bar was in walking distance, so we walked and talked with the two girls. They were so nice, one of them was studying Greek literature, and the other, Cristina, had already graduated and was interested in fashion design.
And they were a part of the communist party in Athens, a fact that intrigued us.
The two girls told us that elections were in one week. They said that currently, students can attend universities for free and the people receive free healthcare, but the government wants to start privatizing many organizations similar to those.
They told us the next month is going to be crazy - that they are going to have to go out every night. "Why?" we asked.
And they explained to us that they want to convince people to vote for their party - to motivate people to change things. Keep in mind, they don't work for the party, they are just students and citizens of Greece.
You could tell they were not sure how we would react to their political standings. They obviously new that Americans are not keen on communism. But we thought it was so cool to come across such passion and dedication for a cause that currently makes up less than 5 % of the vote in Greece.
And as we sat down in this bar with a great atmosphere, we met several of their other friends who were also part of the communist party and they struggled through their English to explain what they believed.
They wanted equality - for all people to exist on a level playing field. They said that they know that the kind of change they are campaigning for is not something that they'll witness in their lifetime, but they want to work to improve things for their children, and their children's children.
Wow. How many people in the world are willing to dedicate their lives to a cause that they will never reap the benefits of? It made me question, am I? Hmm...
One of the girls was also explaining to us that she is working as a teacher, but it is hard to find work. So she has to live in the suburbs with her parents because she is only working part time right now outside of the city, because work in Athens is almost impossible to find if you have no previous experience.
She said she wants to be able to work full time, to be able to make a living for herself.
They asked us what we believed - about politics, about communism, and about capitalism.
They challenged us to fight for change - whatever our beliefs may be - because change has to start somewhere, and why not work for a better world in the future? So cool.
And they asked us about the Greek system. One girl turns to us and says that in movies, they see university students in groups doing stupid things, and they have Greek names. "Is this real?" she asked.
At first, we were confused...students doing stupid things? You mean parties?
No. She meant fraternities and sororities.
How do you explain the "Greek system" to students in Athens? Yea...so they use your alphabet...and make groups that put on social events - aka: keggers - and sometimes do community service? (Of course, the movies only depict the, uh, social aspects of the groups).
We did our best to explain them objectively, and they understood what we were saying, but they didn't get the system or why people would pay to be a part of it.
We laughed so hard later that they asked us if it was "real."
I kept imagining the situation reversed. Students in Athens in the AB group. Americans watching Greek movies of university students partying as a part of the group LMP. It sounds funny when put yourself in the position of a foreigner.
Ha. "Is this real?" I almost wished I could say no. Sorry, greek members.
We loved talking with their friends. They were so nice, and so interesting. And all of them made such a great effort to include us in the conversation, even though it was difficult for them to speak English. I hoped that my friends would do the same if someone came to visit from another country - to take the time to talk to them. We just felt so welcome.
And at the end of the night, all of them hugged and kissed us on each cheek, telling us what a pleasure it was to meet us and to enjoy our travels.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Second Encounter
We roll out of bed around 11 am, pack our things, and head to the lobby of the ferry. We sit down with a capoccino and a ham and cheese croissant for a breakfast/lunch.
And then we spot them. Our Italian Stallions.
The come over to our table, grab as many extra chairs as then can, admire our huge backpacks ("so heavy" they said), and we continue talking.
We make sure to get the actor's autograph, as he claims he will be an international star one day, and we take a picture with them.
One of them deviously keeps kicking my shoes under my seat. Flirting knows no language I guess!
Their eyes widen at my huge novel sitting on the table. I brought the book Shantaram (an amazing novel) with me to read. It's between 2 and 3 inches thick, and probably 800 to 1000 pages. One of them picks it up and reads the cover in English. Then they laugh about something on the back. "So big!" they tell me.
Yes, I am a nerd.
In parting, the actor tells us in broken English what a pleasure it was to meet us and that he'll always remember the two American girls he met on the ferry from Bari. And, if we're ever in Naples, we should look him up.
Several of them give us hugs and a kiss on each cheek, the infamous European goodbye.
They were great. Just so much fun.
And now we had to find a train to Athens.
And we did! We asked where the train station was, walked in the scorching sun a ways down the road, and found out that we had about 4 hours before the next train left. So we went straight for the Internet.
And then we ate another amazing Greek meal, with greek salad no less, and the cucumber dip that we enjoy so much at my house in AZ.
Wandering back to the station, the train arrives, and we hop on board. Four hours to Athens.
And the train has no air conditioning.
Keep in mind, the weather is almost as hot as Arizona in temperature, but then you have to add humidity. We were drenched.
Luckily, 2 hours into the ride, we find out that we have to switch trains. Which was good, because the second train had air conditioning. The bad part was we almost missed it because we were snoozing. We jolted awake and wondered why everyone was getting off of the train.
Leslie asked a conductor for Athens and he said "Next train!" and pointed toward our transfer.
We made it just in time.
And then we spot them. Our Italian Stallions.
The come over to our table, grab as many extra chairs as then can, admire our huge backpacks ("so heavy" they said), and we continue talking.
We make sure to get the actor's autograph, as he claims he will be an international star one day, and we take a picture with them.
One of them deviously keeps kicking my shoes under my seat. Flirting knows no language I guess!
Their eyes widen at my huge novel sitting on the table. I brought the book Shantaram (an amazing novel) with me to read. It's between 2 and 3 inches thick, and probably 800 to 1000 pages. One of them picks it up and reads the cover in English. Then they laugh about something on the back. "So big!" they tell me.
Yes, I am a nerd.
In parting, the actor tells us in broken English what a pleasure it was to meet us and that he'll always remember the two American girls he met on the ferry from Bari. And, if we're ever in Naples, we should look him up.
Several of them give us hugs and a kiss on each cheek, the infamous European goodbye.
They were great. Just so much fun.
And now we had to find a train to Athens.
And we did! We asked where the train station was, walked in the scorching sun a ways down the road, and found out that we had about 4 hours before the next train left. So we went straight for the Internet.
And then we ate another amazing Greek meal, with greek salad no less, and the cucumber dip that we enjoy so much at my house in AZ.
Wandering back to the station, the train arrives, and we hop on board. Four hours to Athens.
And the train has no air conditioning.
Keep in mind, the weather is almost as hot as Arizona in temperature, but then you have to add humidity. We were drenched.
Luckily, 2 hours into the ride, we find out that we have to switch trains. Which was good, because the second train had air conditioning. The bad part was we almost missed it because we were snoozing. We jolted awake and wondered why everyone was getting off of the train.
Leslie asked a conductor for Athens and he said "Next train!" and pointed toward our transfer.
We made it just in time.
Since when is a ferry a cruise ship?
The ferry that we took from Bari to Greece was a 16 hour ride - and a nice one. Basically, we felt like we were on the Titanic.
Okay, it wasn't that nice, but definitely up there.
We spoiled ourselves and paid for a cabin so that we could sleep for hours and hours. And we did, almost 12 in fact. It was great.
But first, we did some exploring.
The "ferry" had a casino, a club, a cafeteria, and a fancy schmancy restaurant. It also had an outdoor bar, a small swimming pool, and a cafe inside the common lobby. We couldn't believe it!
People were parked everywhere - outside and in. We boarded just after 6 pm and some were already laying out sleeping bags for the night. And the lobby was so crowded. People sitting around tables, talking, laughing, smoking, eating, playing cards, and just having a good time together.
We walked around for awhile, and then headed into the fancy restaurant after seeing the prices were, surprisingly, really reasonable.
The meal was great. We had white wine, bread, and delicious greek salads. In Greece, greek salad usually does not include lettuce leaves. They slice lots of tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, add some olives and a block of feta cheese on top. Sprinkle on some herbs and then put oil and vinegar on the side for the customers. Leslie and I thought that was interesting, but agreed that it actually tasted better.
And that salad started a long line of many greek salads that we would eat in the next couple of days.
For dessert? Assorted cheeses. So European, right? It was a party...in my mouth.
We walked back to our cabin around midnight and the lobby was still jam-packed with people and so loud. I could just see the difference in Greek and Italian culture from that of the US. It was like a huge party in the middle of the lobby. People were just sitting around enjoying the late-night company of each other. I tried to think of a time when I witnessed that in the US. I'm still searching....
Our two roommates were already asleep, so we crawled into our beds and fell asleep to the soft rocking of the ship.
Okay, it wasn't that nice, but definitely up there.
We spoiled ourselves and paid for a cabin so that we could sleep for hours and hours. And we did, almost 12 in fact. It was great.
But first, we did some exploring.
The "ferry" had a casino, a club, a cafeteria, and a fancy schmancy restaurant. It also had an outdoor bar, a small swimming pool, and a cafe inside the common lobby. We couldn't believe it!
People were parked everywhere - outside and in. We boarded just after 6 pm and some were already laying out sleeping bags for the night. And the lobby was so crowded. People sitting around tables, talking, laughing, smoking, eating, playing cards, and just having a good time together.
We walked around for awhile, and then headed into the fancy restaurant after seeing the prices were, surprisingly, really reasonable.
The meal was great. We had white wine, bread, and delicious greek salads. In Greece, greek salad usually does not include lettuce leaves. They slice lots of tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, add some olives and a block of feta cheese on top. Sprinkle on some herbs and then put oil and vinegar on the side for the customers. Leslie and I thought that was interesting, but agreed that it actually tasted better.
And that salad started a long line of many greek salads that we would eat in the next couple of days.
For dessert? Assorted cheeses. So European, right? It was a party...in my mouth.
We walked back to our cabin around midnight and the lobby was still jam-packed with people and so loud. I could just see the difference in Greek and Italian culture from that of the US. It was like a huge party in the middle of the lobby. People were just sitting around enjoying the late-night company of each other. I tried to think of a time when I witnessed that in the US. I'm still searching....
Our two roommates were already asleep, so we crawled into our beds and fell asleep to the soft rocking of the ship.
Who wears short shorts? European men, apparently.
Starting with our Roman host and his pj's, and then again in his swimsuit, European men are seizing the opportunity to show off some hairy leg. I think that most men's swim trunks and athletic shorts are actually shorter than any pair of shorts I own!
And if they're not sporting the short shorts, the speedo is the only way to go. Those things are everywhere! On every other European guy.
But I have to give them props - it takes guts to walk around in spandex that little. Want to test someone's manhood? Make him walk around for a day in a speedo. =)
Which brings me to my next topic - modesty in Europe, or lack thereof?
Leslie and I are sometimes left gaping at some of the things women wear and the abundance of explicit magazines posted everywhere - at every tobacco stand and convenient store.
You know, the material in the back room only allowed to be seen and bought by those ages 18 and up. Not the case here, it's all out in the open on every other corner.
And women get very comfortable at the beach. And that's all I'm going to say about that.
After all, it's a completely different culture! And it's interesting to be a spectator...
And if they're not sporting the short shorts, the speedo is the only way to go. Those things are everywhere! On every other European guy.
But I have to give them props - it takes guts to walk around in spandex that little. Want to test someone's manhood? Make him walk around for a day in a speedo. =)
Which brings me to my next topic - modesty in Europe, or lack thereof?
Leslie and I are sometimes left gaping at some of the things women wear and the abundance of explicit magazines posted everywhere - at every tobacco stand and convenient store.
You know, the material in the back room only allowed to be seen and bought by those ages 18 and up. Not the case here, it's all out in the open on every other corner.
And women get very comfortable at the beach. And that's all I'm going to say about that.
After all, it's a completely different culture! And it's interesting to be a spectator...
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
How The Office is breaking cultural barriers
So, we buy our ferry tickets to Patras, Greece from Bari, Italy.
We do this about 6 hours before the ferry leaves. (Jeopardy theme music, please). It's hot outside, we don't want to lug our backpacks around in the heat, so we go upstairs to the restaurant/bar at the ferry port to grab some food and pass the time.
We finish eating, Leslie draws, I read, and then we decide to relocate to the downstairs sitting area to pass some more time.
And that's when we took the plunge.
I took out my iPOD and we shared my headphones to watch The Office. Yes, it's THAT good.
So here we are watching a third season episode when a pack of almost 10 Italian guys from Naples arrives and they fill the seats around us. (The room was almost identical to an airport gate).
Well, here we are, laughing at this little black box, and they wanted to know what the heck was going on. So one of them taps me on the knee and says something in Italian that I couldn't understand, but it sure sounded good. I could see he was curious as to what we were doing, so I hand him my shiny Apple product.
From what Leslie and I had seen so far, iPOD's are not common in Europe. In fact, I don't think we'd seen anyone using an iPOD since we arrived in London. We'd seen people listening to music on their cell phones, but beyond that, nothing.
"Filma!" they say. Yup, we're watching a film...kind of.
And the conversation begins.
One of them tells us that he is an actor in a soap opera, and laughing, we tell him to prove it. So he does.
He recruits one of his amigos and gets up and acts out an entire scene in Italian. We couldn't understand a word - but he had great passion. We clap.
The actor spoke the most English, so we had to communicate primarily through him. (Which was actually unfortunate, because a couple of the other guys were pretty cute...)
They were all taking the ferry together to Greece on vacation. None of them had any bags - only a deck of cards which they shared between their group, playing various poker games (they later told us they love Texas Hold'em).
The actor points to one of his friends and jokingly tells us that he's gay, and to another one telling us that he has lots of luck with the ladies.
He points to another and another, giving them labels like "the fat one," "the tall one," or "the skinny one."
They all laughed, and they all understood their English labels, but none of them were offended, it was just a part of their close comradery. And of course, they teased the actor back in Italian.
We want to know how the actor characterizes himself. If he labels all of his friends, then what is his label?
"The Italian Stallion!" he says, head high in the air, and Leslie and I double over laughing as the rest of the group of guys repeat the words with Italian accents. Ah, one English phrase commonly known among Italians. Figures they would know that! =)
He shows us his wallet, including his drivers' license and his tanning membership (for the winter, he tells us).
Then they entertain us with card tricks. A few of them tell us that this is how they make money, and then proceed to "dazzle" us with their magic. It was fun.
And then Leslie turns the tables and impresses the "Italian Stallions" with a trick she knows. We had obviously gained their respect. (Props to Leslie for that one!)
This group was great - and we loved the way these Italians interacted with each other, and with us. They were so friendly and tried so hard to communicate with us, though even the actor's English was pretty rocky. They seemed like they were such close friends and just fun to be around.
We found out they were boarding the same ferry as we were, but their destination was another city in Greece.
We boarded the ship separately from they guys, but maybe we would see them again later.
We do this about 6 hours before the ferry leaves. (Jeopardy theme music, please). It's hot outside, we don't want to lug our backpacks around in the heat, so we go upstairs to the restaurant/bar at the ferry port to grab some food and pass the time.
We finish eating, Leslie draws, I read, and then we decide to relocate to the downstairs sitting area to pass some more time.
And that's when we took the plunge.
I took out my iPOD and we shared my headphones to watch The Office. Yes, it's THAT good.
So here we are watching a third season episode when a pack of almost 10 Italian guys from Naples arrives and they fill the seats around us. (The room was almost identical to an airport gate).
Well, here we are, laughing at this little black box, and they wanted to know what the heck was going on. So one of them taps me on the knee and says something in Italian that I couldn't understand, but it sure sounded good. I could see he was curious as to what we were doing, so I hand him my shiny Apple product.
From what Leslie and I had seen so far, iPOD's are not common in Europe. In fact, I don't think we'd seen anyone using an iPOD since we arrived in London. We'd seen people listening to music on their cell phones, but beyond that, nothing.
"Filma!" they say. Yup, we're watching a film...kind of.
And the conversation begins.
One of them tells us that he is an actor in a soap opera, and laughing, we tell him to prove it. So he does.
He recruits one of his amigos and gets up and acts out an entire scene in Italian. We couldn't understand a word - but he had great passion. We clap.
The actor spoke the most English, so we had to communicate primarily through him. (Which was actually unfortunate, because a couple of the other guys were pretty cute...)
They were all taking the ferry together to Greece on vacation. None of them had any bags - only a deck of cards which they shared between their group, playing various poker games (they later told us they love Texas Hold'em).
The actor points to one of his friends and jokingly tells us that he's gay, and to another one telling us that he has lots of luck with the ladies.
He points to another and another, giving them labels like "the fat one," "the tall one," or "the skinny one."
They all laughed, and they all understood their English labels, but none of them were offended, it was just a part of their close comradery. And of course, they teased the actor back in Italian.
We want to know how the actor characterizes himself. If he labels all of his friends, then what is his label?
"The Italian Stallion!" he says, head high in the air, and Leslie and I double over laughing as the rest of the group of guys repeat the words with Italian accents. Ah, one English phrase commonly known among Italians. Figures they would know that! =)
He shows us his wallet, including his drivers' license and his tanning membership (for the winter, he tells us).
Then they entertain us with card tricks. A few of them tell us that this is how they make money, and then proceed to "dazzle" us with their magic. It was fun.
And then Leslie turns the tables and impresses the "Italian Stallions" with a trick she knows. We had obviously gained their respect. (Props to Leslie for that one!)
This group was great - and we loved the way these Italians interacted with each other, and with us. They were so friendly and tried so hard to communicate with us, though even the actor's English was pretty rocky. They seemed like they were such close friends and just fun to be around.
We found out they were boarding the same ferry as we were, but their destination was another city in Greece.
We boarded the ship separately from they guys, but maybe we would see them again later.
Lucky in Roma
Our hostel for the last night in Rome was...interesting.
The reception area looked a little sketchy, was hot, and not the cleanest, but hey. When in Rome, right?
Then we got some interesting news. They told us we were actually going to stay in an apartment a couple of blocks down the street, and that we would have to come get our key later in the day.
Okay, that works.
So we head out for the day, and get on the bus to take another infamous bus tour around the city. We stop first at the Colosseum - our night tour walked by, but we hadn't gotten to see the inside yet.
The line was ridiculous, but we really wanted to see inside, so we stood in the heat and melted for an hour or so.
Getting admittance tickets - one word - crazy.
All of the sudden, the civil line becomes chaos and people are shoving past one another to get to the front. Whoa. So Leslie made her way bravely through the jumbled mass of bodies and surfaced once again with two tickets in hand.
What a warrior! Or should I say, gladiator?
We were so glad we went inside. I was in awe at the size of the stadium and in its construction. During the heyday of the Roman Empire, people crowded into this stadium. You had to have a seat reserved to see the gladiators fight. Even if you were a woman or a slave and could only view from the very top level. (Women were required to sit separately to prevent promiscuity during the entertainment). The gladiators, contrary to Russell Crowe's 21st century part, were educated in fighting techniques and went through training before they were allowed to fight in the Colosseum.
Underneath the ground where these men fought is a locket-type area where gladiators got ready for battle and put on their gear.
The Romans had quite a system.
Next, we got back on the bus, heading to St. Peter's Basilica, the Vatican Museums and the Sistine Chapel. And then we saw the line, curving around almost 5 streets to get into the museum and the chapel. No way, we said, no way.
It was about 2 in the afternoon, we hadn't eaten yet, and there was just no way we could stand in that line. So we found food. We were both really disappointed - this is the Sistine Chapel! And only feet away....
But the food we ate was amazing, we had a 4 course meal for 11 euro - so cheap! Pasta, salad, fish, and fruit. Yum.
And sitting there chatting after our meal, just across the street from the Vatican Museums, Leslie said, "There's no line!"
What?! What do you mean?!
We go outside - and the line had literally just disappeared. Not there. YES!
We later confirmed, as we had suspected, that the museums close around four-ish, so no one was lined up at 3:15.
Well, we walked right through, paid our entrance fee, and headed toward the chapel.
Not one inch of this structure was left unpainted, it was unbelievable. And the actual room where Michelangelo created his masterpiece took forever to walk to.
We entered the museum just before 3:30, and walked out at 4:30. We didn't stop while walking through - that's how big and how crowded the chapel was. We just kept walking, admiring the incredible art.
Even when you get to Michelangelo's masterpiece, security herds you into the room like cattle and keeps you moving through. Bodies crunched together everywhere, you just have to let yourself be carried by the crowd while you snap photos of the artwork. It's nuts.
But the idea is that everyone keeps moving...and still it takes an hour to walk through.
The paintings were just amazing, spread across walls and ceilings alike. In a couple of the rooms, the artwork was painted with shadows, so it really confuses the mind.
You think it's sculpted because it appears so realistically three-dimensional. It's beyond comprehension.
Some of the best painting that I have ever seen.
And Michelangelo's work is incredible. Such talent, such time. Indescribable really.
Success! We got into the museums! Because of our 4 course meal across the street! So great!
Celebration with huge gelato cones smeared with whipped cream. Mmmm.
We went back to the hostel, were led down the street to our room, which ended up being really nice actually. Definitely better than the reception area.
And then we did laundry - our first time on the trip washing clothes. Boy, did we smell. No getting around that, ha!
Washed clothes, used internet, then we were out for a late-night drink.
We noticed while getting ready that we had roommates in a couple of the other beds, but no one in sight. We thought they'd turn up later...
Surprisingly, we had trouble finding open restaurant at 11 pm on a Friday night. But we eventually found one near the city center, and enjoyed white wine with an excellent rice dish and bread.
We strolled back home and passed out, still no roommates to be seen. At 2 am.
Well, they finally showed up, but we didn't hear them come in. And I hope they slept through our departure - we tried to be quiet.
Our next stop was Bari, where we would have to find a ferry to Patras, where we would need to take a train to Athens. I know, sounds easy, right? =)
The reception area looked a little sketchy, was hot, and not the cleanest, but hey. When in Rome, right?
Then we got some interesting news. They told us we were actually going to stay in an apartment a couple of blocks down the street, and that we would have to come get our key later in the day.
Okay, that works.
So we head out for the day, and get on the bus to take another infamous bus tour around the city. We stop first at the Colosseum - our night tour walked by, but we hadn't gotten to see the inside yet.
The line was ridiculous, but we really wanted to see inside, so we stood in the heat and melted for an hour or so.
Getting admittance tickets - one word - crazy.
All of the sudden, the civil line becomes chaos and people are shoving past one another to get to the front. Whoa. So Leslie made her way bravely through the jumbled mass of bodies and surfaced once again with two tickets in hand.
What a warrior! Or should I say, gladiator?
We were so glad we went inside. I was in awe at the size of the stadium and in its construction. During the heyday of the Roman Empire, people crowded into this stadium. You had to have a seat reserved to see the gladiators fight. Even if you were a woman or a slave and could only view from the very top level. (Women were required to sit separately to prevent promiscuity during the entertainment). The gladiators, contrary to Russell Crowe's 21st century part, were educated in fighting techniques and went through training before they were allowed to fight in the Colosseum.
Underneath the ground where these men fought is a locket-type area where gladiators got ready for battle and put on their gear.
The Romans had quite a system.
Next, we got back on the bus, heading to St. Peter's Basilica, the Vatican Museums and the Sistine Chapel. And then we saw the line, curving around almost 5 streets to get into the museum and the chapel. No way, we said, no way.
It was about 2 in the afternoon, we hadn't eaten yet, and there was just no way we could stand in that line. So we found food. We were both really disappointed - this is the Sistine Chapel! And only feet away....
But the food we ate was amazing, we had a 4 course meal for 11 euro - so cheap! Pasta, salad, fish, and fruit. Yum.
And sitting there chatting after our meal, just across the street from the Vatican Museums, Leslie said, "There's no line!"
What?! What do you mean?!
We go outside - and the line had literally just disappeared. Not there. YES!
We later confirmed, as we had suspected, that the museums close around four-ish, so no one was lined up at 3:15.
Well, we walked right through, paid our entrance fee, and headed toward the chapel.
Not one inch of this structure was left unpainted, it was unbelievable. And the actual room where Michelangelo created his masterpiece took forever to walk to.
We entered the museum just before 3:30, and walked out at 4:30. We didn't stop while walking through - that's how big and how crowded the chapel was. We just kept walking, admiring the incredible art.
Even when you get to Michelangelo's masterpiece, security herds you into the room like cattle and keeps you moving through. Bodies crunched together everywhere, you just have to let yourself be carried by the crowd while you snap photos of the artwork. It's nuts.
But the idea is that everyone keeps moving...and still it takes an hour to walk through.
The paintings were just amazing, spread across walls and ceilings alike. In a couple of the rooms, the artwork was painted with shadows, so it really confuses the mind.
You think it's sculpted because it appears so realistically three-dimensional. It's beyond comprehension.
Some of the best painting that I have ever seen.
And Michelangelo's work is incredible. Such talent, such time. Indescribable really.
Success! We got into the museums! Because of our 4 course meal across the street! So great!
Celebration with huge gelato cones smeared with whipped cream. Mmmm.
We went back to the hostel, were led down the street to our room, which ended up being really nice actually. Definitely better than the reception area.
And then we did laundry - our first time on the trip washing clothes. Boy, did we smell. No getting around that, ha!
Washed clothes, used internet, then we were out for a late-night drink.
We noticed while getting ready that we had roommates in a couple of the other beds, but no one in sight. We thought they'd turn up later...
Surprisingly, we had trouble finding open restaurant at 11 pm on a Friday night. But we eventually found one near the city center, and enjoyed white wine with an excellent rice dish and bread.
We strolled back home and passed out, still no roommates to be seen. At 2 am.
Well, they finally showed up, but we didn't hear them come in. And I hope they slept through our departure - we tried to be quiet.
Our next stop was Bari, where we would have to find a ferry to Patras, where we would need to take a train to Athens. I know, sounds easy, right? =)
Firenze - Florence
Our second day in Rome, we didn't stay - we went to Florence. We heard it was beautiful, and so we boarded the 2-hour train early in the morning and were in Florence before noon.
We bought a map, and then looked for a place to eat. By the time we sat down, it was almost 11, so we decided to get lunch. Pasta. Delicious! We ordered two plates and split it while we sat just outside the Dome (il Duomo), which is attached to an old catholic cathedral.
The Dome and the cathedral together make up this beautiful building built centuries ago with marble. The outside is almost like a mosaic, with different colors and pictures. The front of the building is adorned with statues of the 12 apostles. It was beautiful.
We wanted to go in but the line ran outside the building almost 3 or maybe even 4 blocks down. We only had one day in Florence.
So then we continued on foot through the city. Italy itself it just incredible. Both Rome and Florence are filled with narrow alleyways where you can sit down at little cafes whose eating area extends outside onto the cobblestone streets. Those kinds of places are not so easy to find elsewhere, and are much less common. Vendors everywhere, gelato shops at every corner (gelato is huge in Italy), and amazing architecture accented by various stylish lamps and street lights.
I'm so glad we chose to walk through the city to see what we wanted to see. We walked by a famous square with medieval architecture and a replica of the statue of David. We went by the church where Michelangelo was buried, over the city's river to the Palazzo Pitti where the Medici family used to live, and where we entered into the Boboli Gardens.
The gardens were beautiful - so big and unique. We sat down by a fountain of Neptune in the middle of everything and began to write postcards and journal. It was relaxing after our long walk in high temperatures. Then we looked around a bit more, finding a patio area filled with greenery that overlooked the city. It was so cool, so lush and green from that vantage point.
Then, on our way back into the city, we walked over the Ponte Vecchio bridge, where Machiavelli used to live (for those of us nerds that have read The Prince). He lived at number 18 on a bridge that was damaged twice by floods and another time by the German retreat during WWII. It's now known (apparenlty worldwide) as the jeweler's bridge and is filled with little shops.
Then, we ate a quick dinner at a restaurant situated outside the cathedral where Michelangelo was buried, and continued back to the train station. Our day in Florence was over!
We arrive back in Rome, take the metro to our host's place, and trek up the hill to his apartment. We were exhausted.
He offered us some fruit, and we accepted, trying a new round green fruit that I can't remember the name of, but it was good.
We made awkward conversation for a bit, he actually asked us about our universities, ha, and then we told him we were exhausted and were going to go to bed.
You can imagine my horror, as I am just laying down to sleep, when he walks into the living room where I was sleeping on the couch and sits down to show me his football magazines.
(The night before, I told him a liked American football. I take it back, I take it back!!)
Wow, I said, wow.
He flips a couple of pages, and I try to look interested without letting my eyes droop. After a couple of minutes, he asks me, "Are you dying?"
"What?" I said.
He wanted to know if I was exhausted. Yes! I am!
And I told him honestly that I was, we had walked around in the heat all day, and I wanted nothing more then to crash. So he left, saying maybe we could look at them tomorrow.
I wanted to be a good guest and let him show me the magazines, but when you barely sleep, and then get up and spend a day walking around in the sun, by midnight nothing else sounds better than sleep. At that point, I could barely even keep my eyes open.
Sorry, host.
Leslie and I got up the next morning, packed our things, and headed to our hostel. Our host had a couple of other guests arriving that night and could no longer have us there.
So, on to another experience.
We bought a map, and then looked for a place to eat. By the time we sat down, it was almost 11, so we decided to get lunch. Pasta. Delicious! We ordered two plates and split it while we sat just outside the Dome (il Duomo), which is attached to an old catholic cathedral.
The Dome and the cathedral together make up this beautiful building built centuries ago with marble. The outside is almost like a mosaic, with different colors and pictures. The front of the building is adorned with statues of the 12 apostles. It was beautiful.
We wanted to go in but the line ran outside the building almost 3 or maybe even 4 blocks down. We only had one day in Florence.
So then we continued on foot through the city. Italy itself it just incredible. Both Rome and Florence are filled with narrow alleyways where you can sit down at little cafes whose eating area extends outside onto the cobblestone streets. Those kinds of places are not so easy to find elsewhere, and are much less common. Vendors everywhere, gelato shops at every corner (gelato is huge in Italy), and amazing architecture accented by various stylish lamps and street lights.
I'm so glad we chose to walk through the city to see what we wanted to see. We walked by a famous square with medieval architecture and a replica of the statue of David. We went by the church where Michelangelo was buried, over the city's river to the Palazzo Pitti where the Medici family used to live, and where we entered into the Boboli Gardens.
The gardens were beautiful - so big and unique. We sat down by a fountain of Neptune in the middle of everything and began to write postcards and journal. It was relaxing after our long walk in high temperatures. Then we looked around a bit more, finding a patio area filled with greenery that overlooked the city. It was so cool, so lush and green from that vantage point.
Then, on our way back into the city, we walked over the Ponte Vecchio bridge, where Machiavelli used to live (for those of us nerds that have read The Prince). He lived at number 18 on a bridge that was damaged twice by floods and another time by the German retreat during WWII. It's now known (apparenlty worldwide) as the jeweler's bridge and is filled with little shops.
Then, we ate a quick dinner at a restaurant situated outside the cathedral where Michelangelo was buried, and continued back to the train station. Our day in Florence was over!
We arrive back in Rome, take the metro to our host's place, and trek up the hill to his apartment. We were exhausted.
He offered us some fruit, and we accepted, trying a new round green fruit that I can't remember the name of, but it was good.
We made awkward conversation for a bit, he actually asked us about our universities, ha, and then we told him we were exhausted and were going to go to bed.
You can imagine my horror, as I am just laying down to sleep, when he walks into the living room where I was sleeping on the couch and sits down to show me his football magazines.
(The night before, I told him a liked American football. I take it back, I take it back!!)
Wow, I said, wow.
He flips a couple of pages, and I try to look interested without letting my eyes droop. After a couple of minutes, he asks me, "Are you dying?"
"What?" I said.
He wanted to know if I was exhausted. Yes! I am!
And I told him honestly that I was, we had walked around in the heat all day, and I wanted nothing more then to crash. So he left, saying maybe we could look at them tomorrow.
I wanted to be a good guest and let him show me the magazines, but when you barely sleep, and then get up and spend a day walking around in the sun, by midnight nothing else sounds better than sleep. At that point, I could barely even keep my eyes open.
Sorry, host.
Leslie and I got up the next morning, packed our things, and headed to our hostel. Our host had a couple of other guests arriving that night and could no longer have us there.
So, on to another experience.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Couch surfing in Roma
Our host picked us up at a metro stop in his tiny black Mercedes and took us back to his apartment so we could shower and drop off our things.
It was a holiday, and he was going to the beach. We were tempted to go with, but we really wanted to see the city, and knew we didn't have time to waste.
He was very nice, gave us a key, and we were set to go.
We went to the train stations, made reservations for our departure, and then got lunch - our first Italian dish.
Leslie ordered pizza, thinking it was a slice, and they brought out a whole pizza. Wow. I got penne pasta, and tried to help Leslie finish her huge meal. It was so good. But we found out, apparently, that people just eat whole pizzas there. The dough isn't as thick, but still!
And then we went to a tourist office to plan our time in Rome.
We spent our evening taking a 3-hour walking tour through the city, ending at the Colosseum.
The tour was great, hard to understand our guide with her Italian accent, but we saw so much just by foot. Seeing the ruins of the Roman Forum just left us speechless. The remains actually were covered by dirt over the years and had to be excavated by archeologists, so the ground where the Roman Forum used to stand is much lower than the rest of the city.
Next to the Roman Forum, I later read, stands the prison where the disciples Paul and Peter were kept before they were matyred. I believe the Forum is where the two men were executed as well. Incredible. To think we stood that close to the place where Paul may have written letters that we read today in the Bible. Wow.
The Colosseum was also incredible - it's just so big. All of the architecture is so amazing. It's hard to believe how long ago these structures were constructed, how beautiful they are, and how long they have remained. It really humbles the idea that our advances in technology make our generation intelligent and important.
Later, we met up with our host for dinner and drinks. And honestly, we didn't quite know what to make of him.
I don't know if it was his swagger walking into the restaurant with two women as though we were arm candy, or maybe it was the way he reprimanded the waiter for bringing regular water instead of sparkling water. "Who brought this?!" he asked impatiently. "Which one of the waiters? I wanted sparkling water."
Funny, he never asked us what our preference was...
He's traveled a lot, to many parts of the world, and he speaks two languages besides his native tongue, Italian.
So you would think that he can appreciate differences in culture and might have a greater understanding about different types of people. But he sure wasn't afraid to tell us how much he hated New York, calling it "hell on Earth."
Ha...uhm...did I dare tell him I want to live there?
Oh, and he said the people in New York are rude and the subway smells.
Naw, I won't let him know how much I love the east coast, specifically NYC.
Leslie and I laughed about it the next day, we couldn't believe that he would say that to us when we live in the US. It's almost like us telling him, "We hate Florence. Italians smell." Yikes.
Our night with him was interesting. It was obvious that he loves the Roman culture, but there is a fine line between loving where you live and arrogance.
He was nice enough, but we just felt awkward a lot of the time. And he didn't seem eager to inquire about our culture, our likes and dislikes, and our life at home. It was just strange.
But that didn't stop us from cracking jokes about it all the way to and from Florence. In fact, we're still laughing - even from Greece!
It was a holiday, and he was going to the beach. We were tempted to go with, but we really wanted to see the city, and knew we didn't have time to waste.
He was very nice, gave us a key, and we were set to go.
We went to the train stations, made reservations for our departure, and then got lunch - our first Italian dish.
Leslie ordered pizza, thinking it was a slice, and they brought out a whole pizza. Wow. I got penne pasta, and tried to help Leslie finish her huge meal. It was so good. But we found out, apparently, that people just eat whole pizzas there. The dough isn't as thick, but still!
And then we went to a tourist office to plan our time in Rome.
We spent our evening taking a 3-hour walking tour through the city, ending at the Colosseum.
The tour was great, hard to understand our guide with her Italian accent, but we saw so much just by foot. Seeing the ruins of the Roman Forum just left us speechless. The remains actually were covered by dirt over the years and had to be excavated by archeologists, so the ground where the Roman Forum used to stand is much lower than the rest of the city.
Next to the Roman Forum, I later read, stands the prison where the disciples Paul and Peter were kept before they were matyred. I believe the Forum is where the two men were executed as well. Incredible. To think we stood that close to the place where Paul may have written letters that we read today in the Bible. Wow.
The Colosseum was also incredible - it's just so big. All of the architecture is so amazing. It's hard to believe how long ago these structures were constructed, how beautiful they are, and how long they have remained. It really humbles the idea that our advances in technology make our generation intelligent and important.
Later, we met up with our host for dinner and drinks. And honestly, we didn't quite know what to make of him.
I don't know if it was his swagger walking into the restaurant with two women as though we were arm candy, or maybe it was the way he reprimanded the waiter for bringing regular water instead of sparkling water. "Who brought this?!" he asked impatiently. "Which one of the waiters? I wanted sparkling water."
Funny, he never asked us what our preference was...
He's traveled a lot, to many parts of the world, and he speaks two languages besides his native tongue, Italian.
So you would think that he can appreciate differences in culture and might have a greater understanding about different types of people. But he sure wasn't afraid to tell us how much he hated New York, calling it "hell on Earth."
Ha...uhm...did I dare tell him I want to live there?
Oh, and he said the people in New York are rude and the subway smells.
Naw, I won't let him know how much I love the east coast, specifically NYC.
Leslie and I laughed about it the next day, we couldn't believe that he would say that to us when we live in the US. It's almost like us telling him, "We hate Florence. Italians smell." Yikes.
Our night with him was interesting. It was obvious that he loves the Roman culture, but there is a fine line between loving where you live and arrogance.
He was nice enough, but we just felt awkward a lot of the time. And he didn't seem eager to inquire about our culture, our likes and dislikes, and our life at home. It was just strange.
But that didn't stop us from cracking jokes about it all the way to and from Florence. In fact, we're still laughing - even from Greece!
I love Italians!
So, after passing through Germany and the Czech, we were disappointed by our interactions with people while in Munich and Prague.
The atmosphere in Germany and the Czech is different - much different from other parts of Europe that we'd visited. It's gloomy, and people are short with you. I don't know that we saw anyone smiling, and it's almost as though there is a lack of hope, and definitely a lack of tolerance.
Our tour guide in Prague told us that the Czech is one of the most atheist nations in Europe, something that I think I had heard at my church in high school when we sent mission trips there.
I had to wonder if that had anything to do with the atmosphere.
It was so distinct, and so interesting.
But we board our overnight train to Roma, and we have quite a different experience with the Italian ticket collector.
We were so confused when we got to our little room, because there were just three seats. But then we figure out that there are beds, you just have to pull them down. An Austrian woman was sitting there, and didn't know any English, but we all tried to pull the beds down.
Wrong.
The Italian collector on our cart comes by and says "No, no, what are you doing? You broka everything!"
Uh oh.
We thought we were in trouble, but then he continues, putting our beds back up with a bit of a smirk,
"Vere (where) are you frome? America? "
We nod.
"Okay, zen one million dollars. You broka everything!"
We're laughing by this time.
Then he wanted to know which one of us had gotten the idea to do it. Leslie points to me. The Italian rolls his eyes.
I tell him it was her.
Oh geez, good times.
But he was very nice, asking us which state we lived in, and continuing to inquire about our trip the next morning.
He woke us up with a rhythmic knock and says with a smile, "Buongiorno!"
He tells us, "Get up, and quick, I have another train to catch!" He asks how our train ride was and we said nice. "No, no! Not nice, VERY nice!"
"Okay," I say, "Molto benne!" - which is Italian for very nice - and he seems satisfied.
We were in Rome!
The atmosphere in Germany and the Czech is different - much different from other parts of Europe that we'd visited. It's gloomy, and people are short with you. I don't know that we saw anyone smiling, and it's almost as though there is a lack of hope, and definitely a lack of tolerance.
Our tour guide in Prague told us that the Czech is one of the most atheist nations in Europe, something that I think I had heard at my church in high school when we sent mission trips there.
I had to wonder if that had anything to do with the atmosphere.
It was so distinct, and so interesting.
But we board our overnight train to Roma, and we have quite a different experience with the Italian ticket collector.
We were so confused when we got to our little room, because there were just three seats. But then we figure out that there are beds, you just have to pull them down. An Austrian woman was sitting there, and didn't know any English, but we all tried to pull the beds down.
Wrong.
The Italian collector on our cart comes by and says "No, no, what are you doing? You broka everything!"
Uh oh.
We thought we were in trouble, but then he continues, putting our beds back up with a bit of a smirk,
"Vere (where) are you frome? America? "
We nod.
"Okay, zen one million dollars. You broka everything!"
We're laughing by this time.
Then he wanted to know which one of us had gotten the idea to do it. Leslie points to me. The Italian rolls his eyes.
I tell him it was her.
Oh geez, good times.
But he was very nice, asking us which state we lived in, and continuing to inquire about our trip the next morning.
He woke us up with a rhythmic knock and says with a smile, "Buongiorno!"
He tells us, "Get up, and quick, I have another train to catch!" He asks how our train ride was and we said nice. "No, no! Not nice, VERY nice!"
"Okay," I say, "Molto benne!" - which is Italian for very nice - and he seems satisfied.
We were in Rome!
On to Rome...if we can make it
Trying to get train tickets to Rome was nuts.
We didn't understand how the system worked and no one wanted to help us, regardless of whether they spoke English or not.
We went to the ticket box, they told us we had to go to information first. We went to information, they printed out a sheet. We went to the ticket box again, bought our tickets, and then realized they didn't have a time on them.
Hmm.
In France, they have people walking around the station to help direct tourists around. Not in Prague. We went back to information and inquired. We asked the guy in the window, "Do you speak English?" not wanting to seem arrogant in believing that, as Americans, everyone should speak our language.
He responds, in English, "This is the Czech. We speak Czech in the Czech."
Okay, so you're mocking us.
Leslie says, "Well we don't speak Czech. That's why we asked." But we asked our question anyway, about the departure times, and we think he gave us bogus information, so we asked another window, but they just printed out a sheet of departure times.
We decided to sit and eat lunch and wait to see if our train appeared on the departures board.
When it still didn't appear a half hour before we thought we were supposed to leave, we knew something was off.
Looking at the ticket again, we figured out (I don't even know how) that we were at the wrong station.
So we ran to the metro and prayed we would make it in time.
We did, though it was quite confusing, even at the other station.
Oh well, to Rome!
Well, first to Vienna, then Rome.
We had dinner in Vienna, followed by apple strudel - yum - and then took our overnight train to Roma.
We didn't understand how the system worked and no one wanted to help us, regardless of whether they spoke English or not.
We went to the ticket box, they told us we had to go to information first. We went to information, they printed out a sheet. We went to the ticket box again, bought our tickets, and then realized they didn't have a time on them.
Hmm.
In France, they have people walking around the station to help direct tourists around. Not in Prague. We went back to information and inquired. We asked the guy in the window, "Do you speak English?" not wanting to seem arrogant in believing that, as Americans, everyone should speak our language.
He responds, in English, "This is the Czech. We speak Czech in the Czech."
Okay, so you're mocking us.
Leslie says, "Well we don't speak Czech. That's why we asked." But we asked our question anyway, about the departure times, and we think he gave us bogus information, so we asked another window, but they just printed out a sheet of departure times.
We decided to sit and eat lunch and wait to see if our train appeared on the departures board.
When it still didn't appear a half hour before we thought we were supposed to leave, we knew something was off.
Looking at the ticket again, we figured out (I don't even know how) that we were at the wrong station.
So we ran to the metro and prayed we would make it in time.
We did, though it was quite confusing, even at the other station.
Oh well, to Rome!
Well, first to Vienna, then Rome.
We had dinner in Vienna, followed by apple strudel - yum - and then took our overnight train to Roma.
Prague for a day
We arrived in Prague by train around 11 p.m. The ride, which should have been long, was great because we slept, journaled, talked and met a woman with her son on their way back home to Prague.
The conversation started when I asked her if she wanted help putting her luggage overhead. She spoke little English, but we all managed to communicate.
She said had just visited her sister in Munich, but had lived in the Czech all of her life. She also had recently been to the States, with her husband on a business trip. They went to LA and Las Vegas.
She taught us some basic Czech phrases, told us her favorite restaurant in Prague, and what we should see while we were there (Prague Castle and Old Town). She wanted to know where we were going, how long we were staying, and where we were from. She seemed really nice and we enjoyed talking with her.
When we arrived at the train station, we got a taxi to our hostel.
First hostel experience, since we'd stayed in a super cheap hotel in Paris and with a friend in London.
It was awesome.
It was called the Maribou Hostel and had a great atmosphere. We walked in around midnight and people were up in the lounge and kitchen drinking and talking with music in the background. They had a lounge with dim lighting and big, comfy couches upstairs, just adjacent to the kitchen, and another one downstairs with a pool table.
Downstairs there were also computers where people could get free internet.
The way it was decorated was so interesting - I guess you could say retro?
Our beds looked comfortable, and we started talking with a few girls next to us to see how they liked Prague so far. They were going out to a jazz club that night - which we later found out is a more "touristy" thing to do - not something the locals really enjoy. But still cool.
There were about 20 other people in the room, all bunk beds, guys and girls. I felt like all of the furniture must have been ordered from IKEA, but it wasn't.
One shower for girls and one for guys for the entire first floor, but surprisingly it was rarely in use.
Tired, we went to bed, and the next day headed into the city to see Prague Castle and Old Town.
We took the bus into the city center, and I could not believe how crowded it was!! Literally, it was stuffed so full of people, that there was no room to move. People in chairs, people in the aisles, by the doors...crazy. It was like playing Sardines, except on a bus, in Prague.
Old Town was incredible. The architecture dates back primarily to the Middle Ages, and once you get to Prague Castle, you feel almost like you're in a fairy tale.
Houses and buildings with pointed red roofs, placed in no particular order. It was so refreshing - so different from our geometric street plans with right angles and buildings lined up like ducks in a row.
We headed toward the red roofs, not really knowing where we were going or what we were planning to see. But we stumbled across this incredible building with gardens outside - what we think was the Senate house. But who knows!?
That led us to the Prague Castle gardens. The gardens were amazing - planted on a hill with endless (or at least it seemed so with hot temperatures) stairways up to the castle's square, which also included an amazing cathedral and other historical buildings.
The gardens weren't really gardens, though the stairways were decorated with lots of greenery and flowers. They were a combination of plants and patios and pottery and niches. As we ascended, the view over the city just got better and better.
On our way up, we spotted a classy restaurant situated right on the edge of the hill overlooking the city and decided to eat there on our way back.
We made it to the castle, walked around the square, bought pins and postcards, and sat down for another postcard writing session (which I've come to love). We pick a peaceful place after we buy postcards and just write. It's great.
So sitting outside the palace, we drafted messages to home, and then dropped them in the mailbox and headed back down to eat.
We didn't end up going into the castle - it cost 10 euro and we had already seen several castles.
Lunch was wonderful - and one of our first truly nice meals. We ordered something that was really delicious, but in Czech. To try and explain it (I'm sure I will butcher it), it was a dish with two tortillas filled with mushrooms, cheese, other ingredients and herbs, and was cooked with eggs around it. So good, but I can't remember what it was called.
We sat down just minutes before it started to rain - which was perfect because we could enjoy our meal sitting outside, with the patter of rain falling around us.
We sat for hours - literally hours - and then continued to the astronimical clock in the center of Old Town for a boat tour along Prague's major river.
The boat tour starts with a bus ride for about an hour touring Old Town. The bus was full, and so our guide asked for two volunteers to ride through the city with the company's owner, and Leslie and I jumped at the opportunity. The owner looked younger, and it would be the perfect opportunity to ask questions about the Czech and Prague and the politics of the city. And it was - we were so thankful for that hour car ride.
He told us about the city, a little about the economy, and that the Czech (whose current currency is crowns) will be adopting the euro within the next 5 years. He spoke briefly about the split with Slovakia...they wanted independence, the Czech said okay, but now the Slovak economy has been declining, and many Slovaks come to the Czech to work for better wages. (Sound familiar?)
He also said that the country's switch from socialism to democracy has been good for many in the city, but people on the countryside have not benefited from it and thus they still support socialism.
We drove by a big, symbolic building where the Czech people gather for polcitical protests and such. The owner said that in the 1970's, two students actually burned themselves alive in front of that building to protest Soviet invasion. Ouch.
He said the city, in medieval times, was constantly building walls for protection. The Old Town was surrounded by walls until the New Town was built in the 1200's. Wow.
So we got a lot of good tidbits from our tour. But then we got on the boat and found that the information stopped. So sad, we wanted to know more, but there was just a lot of food. So at least that was good.
And there was live music - a trumpet, a banjo, a trobone, and a fourth instrument that I can't remember.
That was fun, but they played renditions of American classics. We wanted something a bit more cultural.
And that ended our day in Prague.
Back at the hostel, two guys from Holland started talking to us while we were on the Internet. Side note - English is truly the universal language. Everyone speaks it in Europe. They know their language, and then English, and sometimes have a third or fourth language under their belt. So if you're Spanish, and you travel to the Czech, you have to know English or Czech to communicate. Crazy.
Leslie and I, wanting to see the cities and learn about their history first and foremost, have been too tired to really go out at night. And it's harder when you don't know the language, and don't know any locals that can give you good pointers.
These two guys have been traveling for two weeks and have only stayed in twice. Every other night they've gone out drinking and dancing. Granted, their purpose for travel is quite different from ours, but they could not believe that we hadn't gone out. We wished them luck in their endeavors =).
The next morning, we got up early, took advantage of the hostel's free breakfast, and went to the train station to go to Rome.
The conversation started when I asked her if she wanted help putting her luggage overhead. She spoke little English, but we all managed to communicate.
She said had just visited her sister in Munich, but had lived in the Czech all of her life. She also had recently been to the States, with her husband on a business trip. They went to LA and Las Vegas.
She taught us some basic Czech phrases, told us her favorite restaurant in Prague, and what we should see while we were there (Prague Castle and Old Town). She wanted to know where we were going, how long we were staying, and where we were from. She seemed really nice and we enjoyed talking with her.
When we arrived at the train station, we got a taxi to our hostel.
First hostel experience, since we'd stayed in a super cheap hotel in Paris and with a friend in London.
It was awesome.
It was called the Maribou Hostel and had a great atmosphere. We walked in around midnight and people were up in the lounge and kitchen drinking and talking with music in the background. They had a lounge with dim lighting and big, comfy couches upstairs, just adjacent to the kitchen, and another one downstairs with a pool table.
Downstairs there were also computers where people could get free internet.
The way it was decorated was so interesting - I guess you could say retro?
Our beds looked comfortable, and we started talking with a few girls next to us to see how they liked Prague so far. They were going out to a jazz club that night - which we later found out is a more "touristy" thing to do - not something the locals really enjoy. But still cool.
There were about 20 other people in the room, all bunk beds, guys and girls. I felt like all of the furniture must have been ordered from IKEA, but it wasn't.
One shower for girls and one for guys for the entire first floor, but surprisingly it was rarely in use.
Tired, we went to bed, and the next day headed into the city to see Prague Castle and Old Town.
We took the bus into the city center, and I could not believe how crowded it was!! Literally, it was stuffed so full of people, that there was no room to move. People in chairs, people in the aisles, by the doors...crazy. It was like playing Sardines, except on a bus, in Prague.
Old Town was incredible. The architecture dates back primarily to the Middle Ages, and once you get to Prague Castle, you feel almost like you're in a fairy tale.
Houses and buildings with pointed red roofs, placed in no particular order. It was so refreshing - so different from our geometric street plans with right angles and buildings lined up like ducks in a row.
We headed toward the red roofs, not really knowing where we were going or what we were planning to see. But we stumbled across this incredible building with gardens outside - what we think was the Senate house. But who knows!?
That led us to the Prague Castle gardens. The gardens were amazing - planted on a hill with endless (or at least it seemed so with hot temperatures) stairways up to the castle's square, which also included an amazing cathedral and other historical buildings.
The gardens weren't really gardens, though the stairways were decorated with lots of greenery and flowers. They were a combination of plants and patios and pottery and niches. As we ascended, the view over the city just got better and better.
On our way up, we spotted a classy restaurant situated right on the edge of the hill overlooking the city and decided to eat there on our way back.
We made it to the castle, walked around the square, bought pins and postcards, and sat down for another postcard writing session (which I've come to love). We pick a peaceful place after we buy postcards and just write. It's great.
So sitting outside the palace, we drafted messages to home, and then dropped them in the mailbox and headed back down to eat.
We didn't end up going into the castle - it cost 10 euro and we had already seen several castles.
Lunch was wonderful - and one of our first truly nice meals. We ordered something that was really delicious, but in Czech. To try and explain it (I'm sure I will butcher it), it was a dish with two tortillas filled with mushrooms, cheese, other ingredients and herbs, and was cooked with eggs around it. So good, but I can't remember what it was called.
We sat down just minutes before it started to rain - which was perfect because we could enjoy our meal sitting outside, with the patter of rain falling around us.
We sat for hours - literally hours - and then continued to the astronimical clock in the center of Old Town for a boat tour along Prague's major river.
The boat tour starts with a bus ride for about an hour touring Old Town. The bus was full, and so our guide asked for two volunteers to ride through the city with the company's owner, and Leslie and I jumped at the opportunity. The owner looked younger, and it would be the perfect opportunity to ask questions about the Czech and Prague and the politics of the city. And it was - we were so thankful for that hour car ride.
He told us about the city, a little about the economy, and that the Czech (whose current currency is crowns) will be adopting the euro within the next 5 years. He spoke briefly about the split with Slovakia...they wanted independence, the Czech said okay, but now the Slovak economy has been declining, and many Slovaks come to the Czech to work for better wages. (Sound familiar?)
He also said that the country's switch from socialism to democracy has been good for many in the city, but people on the countryside have not benefited from it and thus they still support socialism.
We drove by a big, symbolic building where the Czech people gather for polcitical protests and such. The owner said that in the 1970's, two students actually burned themselves alive in front of that building to protest Soviet invasion. Ouch.
He said the city, in medieval times, was constantly building walls for protection. The Old Town was surrounded by walls until the New Town was built in the 1200's. Wow.
So we got a lot of good tidbits from our tour. But then we got on the boat and found that the information stopped. So sad, we wanted to know more, but there was just a lot of food. So at least that was good.
And there was live music - a trumpet, a banjo, a trobone, and a fourth instrument that I can't remember.
That was fun, but they played renditions of American classics. We wanted something a bit more cultural.
And that ended our day in Prague.
Back at the hostel, two guys from Holland started talking to us while we were on the Internet. Side note - English is truly the universal language. Everyone speaks it in Europe. They know their language, and then English, and sometimes have a third or fourth language under their belt. So if you're Spanish, and you travel to the Czech, you have to know English or Czech to communicate. Crazy.
Leslie and I, wanting to see the cities and learn about their history first and foremost, have been too tired to really go out at night. And it's harder when you don't know the language, and don't know any locals that can give you good pointers.
These two guys have been traveling for two weeks and have only stayed in twice. Every other night they've gone out drinking and dancing. Granted, their purpose for travel is quite different from ours, but they could not believe that we hadn't gone out. We wished them luck in their endeavors =).
The next morning, we got up early, took advantage of the hostel's free breakfast, and went to the train station to go to Rome.
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