HALLOWEEN TIME

I love Halloween, pumpkin carving, dressing up, candy bars...it's pretty much great. Dad and I had a pumpkin carve-off and these are the finished products. Can you tell who's is who's? I think they're winners!

Hit By a Car

Yesterday, I was hit by a car. 

I thought, what a great post for the blog! 

And then I almost forgot about it.

I was walking across a side street at a 3-way intersection.  The street I crossed had a stop sign, the one I walked along did not.  As I moved out into the street in front of the car waiting to turn right, I thought briefly that they might be annoyed with me--waiting to turn right, finally getting their clearing, and then having to wait for the pedestrian who walked in front of rather than behind their car.  I did not expect, however, to be suddenly pushed sideways by the car that seemingly decided to take the clearing anyway. 

As a reflex, as I was being knocked to the side, I held up my hand to the driver like a crossing guard.  Like a crossing guard.  A CROSSING guard.  With the bumper touching my leg, I was a crossing guard.  There's authority for you.  How I wish now I would have smacked the hood of the car like they do in New York!  Let's just say for the purposes of this story that I whacked the car. 

The driver, a college-aged girl, looked up sheepishly, still yacking away on her cell phone and gave me a little apologetic wave.  As if she had accidentally cut in front of me in line at Starbucks.  I shot back a you-disgust-me face and went on my way.  I did not scream obscenities nor shake my fist.  I tried to intimidate her with my gaze.

It was kind of exciting actually.  I suppose every city-dweller at some point carries the battle scars of their pedestrian vs. vehicle stories.  But if this was my test for having grown thick city-skin, I think I failed.  

Opinions

I've been a bit annoyed today with the radio. All day there have been broadcasts about Jennifer Hudson and the tragedy that has happened with her family. It is not that I do not sympathizes with her and feel disgusted that something like this happens, because I do feel that way, it is that such a big deal is being made about her family. It bothers me because if her mother, brother and nephew were just any other family in the South side, no one would bat an eye, no would take any notice at all. Oh sure there would be a brief blurb on the news about another shooting in the South side, but the FBI wouldn't be involved and there wouldn't be alerts like there were for the missing child. The thing that really gets me is that everyone on the radio was suddenly concerned that Chicago is the number 1 city for murders, which is deplorable and bothers me too, and wanting to know how we can fix this. To me the answer is simple: you have to care even when the person who is killed isn't famous or very wealthy. If you ignore the Joe No-name that was gunned down and only care when it is someone famous there is no way you can ever hope to solve the problem. The only good thing that could have come from this highly publicized series of murders is that now people are paying attention...I just hope it is not short-lived and people start making an effort to really care and do something to help.

Happy Halloween!

Emily (one of the two current Emily-named roommates) and I went to Colleen's (former roommate) apartment today to eat chili and carve pumpkins. Happy Halloween!

Noticing Things

1. You can't hurry down the busy, windy streets of downtown Chicago when you are carrying a disposable cup of hot coffee. Maybe all commuters should be required to carry disposable cups of hot coffee so they have to walk slower and look around more.

2. Trees are trees, no matter what kind they are. Then you have maples, oaks, ginkgo, cherry, birth, ash, pines, etc. Then let's just say maples--there are sugar maples, Japanese maples, other kinds of maples. Then let's just say Japanese maples--think of all the different Japanese maples in the USA, in Illinois, in Chicago, in Lincoln Square, on my street. Then let's pick one on my street--it probably has a couple hundred leaves, and every one is different. Is unique. Is unlike any other EVER. There must be trillions and trillions of leaves every year in the world AND EVERY SINGLE ONE IS DIFFERENT. Happy Fall! To celebrate, I made leaf rubbings today.

3. I firmly believe health insurance companies make it that hard to understand so that you give up and they can charge you whatever they want. Their customer service reps are trained to make you feel stupid, so you will give up and call your mom to cry instead.

4. If you vote early in Cook County, you don't get a sticker. You get a piece of paper telling you that you better not even try to show up on election day and vote again or you'll go straight to hell. I mean jail.

Official Worst Journey Ever

Despite MANY obstacles, I have arrived safe and sound in Chile and am tucked away in my friends' apartment to rest before tonight. The event that foretold it all was when my alarm did not go off like it was supposed to yesterday morning for me to put the finishing touches on my suitcase and head out the door to the airport. Good thing my roommate, Illy was home and had agreed to take me to O'Hare. If she hadn't woken me up, I might have slept through the flight! As it was we actually arrived a little early. Traffic was better than I imagined.

I leisurely bought myself a McDonald's breakfast and coffee and sat at the gate while classical music played. We boarded on time, pulled away from the gate on time at 10:05 am, turned around, and came back. The pilot explained that they were having an electrical problem with one of the indicators on the plane and needed the electrical team to look at it. Wait, wait. The electrical team has called specialists to research the problem. Wait, wait. We've determined we need a new part, so we have a team getting that part for us, so sit tight. Wait, wait. We got the new part, but the problem still isn't solved. This flight is officially out of service, everyone get off the plane. We'll try to find another aircraft, but don't know anything yet. Anyone with connections in Miami (aka: everyone) needs to see the ticket agent at the gate.

There were 200 of us, and one of her. Wait, wait. Good news, we have another aircraft! Bad news, we don't know how long it will take to arrive. Wait, wait. Get back in line for new boarding passes and seat assignments. Wait, wait. Since I don't know how long it will take for the flight to arrive, I grab lunch at the closest place I can--McDonald's. yet again. Wait, wait. Check the clock. My connection from Miami to Lima leaves at 5:00 pm. It's going to be close.

We board, take off, fly, arrive in Miami at 5:40. My Lima flight has been delayed to 6:00, but the doors are already closed and they won't let me on. I am rebooked on the 11:40 pm flight to Lima which will arrive at 4:15 am. I call my Peruvian friend, Ana Ce, to tell her I won't need lodging tonight in Lima afterall. My next connection is from Lima to Santiago, Chile at 7:30 am. Wait wait wait wait wait wait for 6 HOURS, ride trains to different terminals, walk, go outside security, eat Cuban food, come back in. I wonder if I'll end up like Tom Hanks in the movie The Terminal. I take note of various corners and supplies I might need to make use of if push comes to shove. Wait, wait, wait.

We board at 10:30 pm. At midnight, we still haven't left the gate. The pilot comes on to explain that there are problems with a gasoline tank and balance on this plane. YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. I want to cry, but I don't. I finish the Nanny Diaries that I borrowed from Illy and started reading that morning in Chicago. At 1:15 am we finally take off, fly, land in Peru at 5:30 am! We get to the gate, stand up gather our things, and wait, wait, wait for 30 MINUTES because the ground crew can't get the jet bridge to work. Of course.

Is it just me, or are the travel gods following me around from country to country, year to year to put a trip cord in my path as I walk by?

Luckily I got through Peruvian customs no problem, claimed my suitcase, exited, turned down all the taxi drivers hoping to make a sale, checked-in, paid the tax to leave the country, and went through international securtiy. I now have a Peruvian entry and exit stamp in my passport, both marked Oct 2, 2008. The flight to Santiago was delayed about 30 minutes, but nothing out of the ordinary. For some reason the Chilean authorities did not ask for the $100 tax that all American, Canadian, Australian, British, and Mexican citizens have to pay to enter (I'm not complaining!), and when I left, my friend Erick was there waiting for me!! Oh, the joy of a familiar face!

Erick and Angela set me up with a Chilean cell phone, a metra card, and a bedroom in their apartment while I am here, so it's already like I never left! After I take a shower and a nap, I'm sure the airport blues will fade...

I'M ENGAGED!

I just wanted to share the good news with everyone! This morning around 11am Mike asked me to marry him and I said yes!! He set up a surprise picnic in the nature center at Albion, where we were both visiting for homecoming. Afterwards we went to the football game where he had arranged to have the commentator congratulate us, only there were some mixed signals and the commentator announced our names and then asked that everyone's attention be at the score board, where they flashed "will you marry me?" So I guess he just wanted to be extra sure that I was saying yes.

The End

Last Swiss post! And just in time too, because I leave for South America on Wednesday! The day before I flew home I went to the French-speaking part of Switzerland on Lake Geneva. Lausanne was the name of the town and everything I read raved about its charm. I arrived and immediately took a train to Chateau-de-Chillon to visit the castle there. This sounds simple. It was not. I accidentally took an express train to the end of the line, which I didn't realize until we zipped past the castle I was supposed to be visiting. Fortunately the train finally stopped not to far from the castle, and I decided to walk back. It took 45 minutes, but I walked on a path along Lake Geneva and it was a beautiful day.

The castle itself was gorgeous and so romantically situated on the lake with the Alps in the background! This was the castle which Lord Byron visited and subsequently wrote the Prisoner of Chillon:

"...And mine has been the fate of those

To whom the goodly earth and air

Are bann'd, and barr'd -- forbidden fare.."

When I had my fill of the castle, I checked the train schedule and realized the next train back to Lausanne didn't leave for another hour. I decided to walk to the next town, Montreaux, which was bigger and try my luck there. It took me another hour to walk to Montreaux, but again, it was along the lake, so enjoyable. Once I got to Montreaux, however, I had no map, and I was starving. Finally I found a place to stop for lunch, sat down in the cafe and asked for an omelette. The server wagged her finger at me and explained that the kitchen was closed by this time (it was around 3) and I could only choose from the pastry counter. Disheartened, I chose a piece of quiche and an apricot tartine. The apricot thing was amazing and quickly dispelled my frustration.

I asked in French how to find the train station, got a string of French and a series of hand gestures in return, and acting a lot more confident than I felt, set off in search of it. After some wandering I found it and boarded the train to Lausanne. In Lausanne, I couldn't orient myself for the life of me! I was holding Rick's map, peering at my surroundings, taking a few paces in a certain direction, changing my mind, trying another street, and NOTHING made sense. I couldn't find the metro station he kept talking about from which he listed directions to all his points of interest. There was an art museum I wanted to see, so I tried to find it on my own. An hour later, frustrated, I gave up because it would be closing momentarily anyway. I tried to do his walking tour, but couldn't find the starting point. Finally I stumbled on a mid-point and did the tour backwards. The other landmark (besides the art museum) that I really wanted to see was the Evangelical church--it was supposed to have great artwork and an impressive organ. By the time I found it, it had closed. I was so frustrated that I didn't even take any pictures.

Luck was not on my side in Lausanne. Back at the bottom of the hill, I sat on a bench near the metro station (that I finally found), debating whether to eat dinner there or get on the train back to Bern to eat with Etel. Just then an African guy came up to me speaking in French. I explained that I didn't speak French and he switched to English. He was holding a parking stub and explained that he couldn't find his car--he'd driven in that day, parked, and gone off for a job interview, and now he couldn't find the lot he'd parked in. I laughed, told him to join the club--I'd been lost all day, and he sat down on the bench to talk with me. Instinctively I held my bag closer, but he seemed harmless.

We ended up having dinner together, swapping life stories and email addresses--he was born and grew up in Rwanda, moved to France with his family when he was 12, got a degree in mechanical engineering, works in Geneva, but looking for a supplementary job in Lausanne. I felt like I accomplished my goal of finally meeting a young person while traveling alone. Hooray!

Switzerland was a great time--I enjoyed visiting with Etel, loved experiencing the Swiss culture, and learned that I can travel alone, but I prefer to travel with someone. I'd like to go back in the winter to see everything covered in snow.

As an update, Etel had a healthy baby boy last week! Gabriel Lorenzo. They are both home from the hospital and doing well. I also just got a postcard in the mail from Etel's mother-in-law Maria. It is written entirely in German, so I need a translator, but it was such a nice gesture!

Until next time...

Luzern aka: Lucerne

With Rick Steves to guide me I ventured out to Luzern (or Lucerne in English) next. Adrian watched the weather the night before so warned me to bring my umbrella. I started out in Luzern with the Rick's self-guided walking tour. As I got my bearings outside of the train station, book in hand, holding it out in odd directions trying to match my surroundings with his map, it began to rain. Never fear, I pulled out the old umbrella--living in Chicago, I've become quite dextrous maneuvering with an umbrella in one hand and something else in the other. In this case Rick and his maps.

Most of the time I don't enjoy rain when I have to be outside getting wet, but occasionally the heavy gray weather is an unexpected relief. I resign myself to getting damp (or dripping) and start to feel my muscles relax under the weight of the laden sky.

I sat in the Jesuit church for a while, listening to the organist practice and then strolled over to Luzern's most famous landmark--the chapel bridge. The bridge stretches diagonally across the wide river and is original from the early 1300s! All along the inside of the bridge are panels depicting various scenes from the city's history in the 1500s. In 1993, however, a portion of the bridge caught on fire. They rebuilt it, but did not replace the paintings in that section as a reminder for what happened.

It was crowded on the bridge because it was covered and more than one tourist was taking refuge from the pouring rain underneath. The paintings were interesting. Each one depicted a normal village scene, but a skeleton was present somewhere in each one. Sometimes it was dancing with a person, sometimes standing behind them, sometimes sitting watching from afar. It was a reminder that death is always present for every person--young, old, weak, strong, rich, poor--no one is exempt.

I stopped at a cafe for lunch and to dry off a bit. Though I was getting more used to being by myself, it still felt slightly uncomfortable to get a table for 1, especially in Europe where everyone shares the tables anyway. There was a group of people sitting right next to me, but the seat across from me was free. Having people so close to you when you're alone somehow makes the aloneness active--exclusion--rather than passive--just minding your own business, being alone. Everyone told me I would meet all kinds of other young people traveling alone in Europe because people do it all the time, but that was just not the case. Everywhere I looked my fellow travelers were retirees. Perhaps the economy, perhaps the time of year, who knows.

I ate and flipped through my book to see where I'd go next. Just as I was finishing a young, handsome guy walked in to the cafe, clutching none other than the Rick Steves Switzerland book! He found a table and sat down and I started gathering up my courage and figuring out what I would say--I have the same book! Ha ha! Let's see the rest of the city together! And I thought how proud Mom would be if my great love story were: we met because of Rick Steves! And just as these thoughts were beginning to settle in my head in an organized fashion, a female travel companion walked over and sat down across the table from him. DARN! Should have known he wouldn't be traveling alone. Probably on their honeymoon. How sweet.

I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering alone through the Old Town in the rain, admiring the many murals on the building facades. I actually had to stop and buy a scarf because it was in the 50s. The only store I could afford was H&M--I know, not authentic. The $ to the Swiss Franc is about 1:1, but the Swiss make up for that by having everything twice as expensive as it would be in the states. My last goal was to find the famous lion statue. It really was a compelling sight--a great stone lion carved into a stone cliff with a reflecting pool underneath. The lion lay dying with a broken spear in its side, tears streaming down its face. It represents the valor of Swiss soldiers killed in combat, and was really quite moving.

While waiting for Adrian, Etel, and Adrian's 8 yr old son, Janosh, to come meet me for dinner, I sat down at a cafe to have apple strudel. It was delish. Adrian, Etel, and Janosh then took me to a restaurant that does a folklore show. We dined on fondue, rosti, and veal while a band played Swiss folk music. They played the water glasses, the cow bells, the saw, the accordian, the Alphorn, and got the whole crowd singing Edelweiss and yodeling their hearts out. When they brought out the Alphorn, they pulled people up on stage to try their hands at blowing it. I was one of the lucky guests to get to try, and I got the horn to sound, but it was anything but melodic!

Matterhorn, Zermatt, Raclette, Oh My!

My first day trip alone in Switzerland took me to the little town of Zermatt on the Swiss-Italian border. My only goof along the trip was hopping onto the first class car by mistake when I changed trains, and getting escorted back to second by the conductor. Apparently she didn't trust that I would make it on my own. The train ride itself was gorgeous as we went up into the mountains.

Upon arrival I headed straight for the ticket window for the Gornergrat Glacier. Adrian recommended I take the train up to Gornergrat, from which there is a great view of the Matterhorn, and then hike down to Zermatt. The weather was supposed to be great, and he said it would be a couple hour hike. It had snowed in the alps the week before I arrived, so all of the mountain tops were clothed in white. The sky was deep blue, and some clouds were just beginning to creep around the tip of the Matterhorn. The glacier was vast and breath-taking. I stood at the top of viewing point for a little while, smiling at the tourists having their pictures snapped with St. Bernards with wooden canasters strapped around their necks. I bought a cheese sandwich for a little snack on the way down since it was about 11 AM, but I figured that I could eat lunch once I arrived in Zermatt.

I started down. It was my first time hiking alone. Once I stopped to turn around and look at the glacier behind me, and I was struck by the silence. It was so quiet! As if the air and the ground and the mountains and the glacier were sucking the sound right out of the world. I could hear my own breathing and feel the rhythm of my heartbeat, and I thought about the natural rhythm of the universe and of how out-of-touch I am when I am home going through MY daily rhythm. In that moment I felt very connected to the soul of the world. Profound, yes. But did you see the mountain I was hiking toward?? If there was ever a cause for inspiration, that was it!

I hiked happily down the path. And hiked and hiked. And hiked. 4 HOURS LATER I arrived in Zermatt. I was very tired and hungry, so I stopped at the cafe Rick Steves recommended and had a huge plate of rosti (the hashbrowns). Zermatt itself was a bit disappointing. I had high expectations because we'd actually been here for Christmas when I was just 2 years old, and it had been immortalized as a darling little town. Over the last 20 years it has grown to become a tourist haven without its own character and soul--I did walk around and see the English church, where 20 years before Jennifer and I practiced skiing down the alley.

The next day after a lazy day in Bern, Maria, Fritz, and Adrian's sister Miriam came over to the apartment for dinner. After our cocktails and appetizers we moved into the dining room to start cooking raclette! Normally there's an apparatus where you put a hunk of cheese under a kind of burner. When the top of the cheese is browned the way you want it, you tilt the wheel and scrape the melted cheese onto your plate. As you eat the cheese on your plate, the next bit is heating up for you again. However, we had a different version-- a hot plate with little compartments underneath where we each stuck a slice of cheese in a tray and slid it under. On the top of the hot plate we cooked up chicken, beef, and sausage at the same time. When the cheese was bubbly, we took it out and scraped it over boiled potatoes. Then the whole process starts over. It was delicious and so much fun! All of the Liechti's were trying to instruct me in raclette etiquette at the same time all in a mixture of German, English, and Spanish, so we had to pause and appoint one person as my guide. Miriam showed me the way, and my plate was soon empty!

New Photos!

I'm doing this out of order, I know, but I just put up some photos on my Rome post. Scroll down...

Switzerland begins!

Switzerland was a much more relaxing pace than Italy had been. I alternated days of adventure-filled trips to different cities and days of lazing around Bern with my friend, Etel. Etel is my Argentine friend who was the first person I worked with at my last job and the person who introduced me to tango. Last summer she married her Swiss fiance, Adrian, in Las Vegas and they moved to a village just outside of Bern, Switzerland shortly after. She began intensive study of the German language, started working at a bilingual daycare, and then became pregnant with complications and had to stop all of her activities. I think having a visitor was a real treat for her, especially since her activities were so restricted, and just to have an old friend to share all of her excitement about her pregnancy. We had a wonderful time!

When we spent lazy days in Bern, we woke up when we felt like it (and when the church bells from across the street wouldn't let us sleep anymore--they chimed every 15 minutes all day and all night), had breakfast of fresh bread, honey, jam, espresso, juice, etc for hours as we chatted away. We took the bus and train into Bern (about 15 minutes), strolled along the streets from the new town to the old town, passed under legendary clocktowers, peered into the greener than green Aare River which loops around the town, stopped and had lunch somewhere, strolled some more, stopped and had a piece of chocolate or a coffee somewhere, went home, rested, cooked dinner, ate with Adrian, watched TV, went to bed. Ahh the life of luxury.

Switzerland is such an interesting country. After spending time in Italy I welcomed all the little signs everywhere telling you exactly how long it would take to walk from that point to another. There were trekking paths and bike paths everywhere, and regardless of where you were in the country--even right smack in the middle of Bern, the capitol city, you could see green space in the distance. The Alps were never too far off, though you couldn't see them if the air was hazy. Seeing so much green and open space is really refreshing. Somehow it made me feel like my lungs expanded further, and I could breathe all the way down into my toenails. Switzerland charges residents for trash pick up, but not for recycling. There are recycling drop-offs everywhere, and you can imagine how much more conscientious the people are there. They have all kinds of gadgets and gizmos in public places to ensure hygiene.

It is illegal to let your vehicle idle at red lights or anywhere else. You have to turn it off to reduce air pollution. They only raise happy cows and chickens (the kind that have space to roam, live on small farms, etc) for meat, eggs, milk, etc rather than the mass production we employ in the US that often means a poorer quality for us since the animals are kept in poor conditions. Etc, etc. Interesting country.

Adrian's parents live about 3 blocks away from Etel and Adrian and are just as doting as Swiss parents-in-law could be. They don't speak a word of English, and German is a MUCH bigger stretch for me than Italian was, but that didn't stop them from making sure I had the best possible time in their country. My first trip out of Bern, Adrian's dad Fritz, drove Etel and me to the town of Emmental. Yes, that is the town where Emmentaler Swiss cheese comes from! The whole drive was nothing but green rolling hills, the occasional village perched in the distance, and happily grazing sheep and cows. We toured the cheese plant, which was just one room with a few things of cheese-making equipment inside. We toured the old house where they still make one kind of cheese in a huge kettle over an open fire. Then we sat down to brunch--coffee, croissants, a plate full of all kinds of cheeses to try, and rosti--the Swiss version of hash browns. We ate and ate and ate. All the cheeses were good except the goat cheese, but I didn't eat that one.

When we'd had our fill, and I mean our FILL--we could hardly breathe for how full our stomachs were, we got in the car to drive back. Fritz chose the scenic route as I snapped scenery pictures from the back seat. Fritz found this amusing. He decided to make a detour to the Kambly factory, home of a brand of well-known Swiss cookies and chocolates. When we got inside there was aisle after aisle of half-kilo bags of different shapes and sizes and flavors of cookie. Every single variety had a basket filled with samples sitting next to it. How could you not go row by row sampling them all? We had no choice, but we really thought we were going to be sick. They were all good, despite the fact that we had vowed only 30 minutes before to never eat again.

We drove a little further and came to a beautiful, tiny, old wooden church from the 1500s. Everything inside was carved out of a light-colored wood, and someone had taken care to decorate it with fresh sunflowers. The organ was beautiful, too, and Fritz said that people come from all over Switzerland to be married there.

Last stop of the afternoon was back in Bolligen at Fritz and Maria's garden plot. They had sunflowers, potatoes, cucumbers, squash, tomatoes, raspberries, carrots, herbs--all kinds of overflowing from their little garden plot. Each plot also had a little shed and a cement patch outside of the shed. Fritz and Maria had a table and chairs set up on their cement patch and inside the shed, in addition to gardening tools, was a portable cook stove and utensils. It felt like we had just joined Peter Rabbit in one of Beatrix Potter's books as we pulled out the utensils and set the table for afternoon tea. Grossly exaggerated facial expressions, gestures, and lots of laughter made communication with Fritz and Maria no problem. By this time some of our appetites had returned, so we took advantange and snacked on fresh raspberries and cherry tomatoes.

Beginner's Luck Revisited

1. I've added pictures to some of the Italy postings! Scroll down for the illustrated version. Still a work in progress for the Rome and Switzerland ones.

2. I was inspired by the fresh bread with jam and honey we had for breakfast in Europe, and I decided I would start making my own bread. Being unemployed has given me great aspirations. After searching for a recipe (ANY recipe that wasn't made for the bread machine!) I found an oat bread that sounded good. Wednesday I went to the grocery store. Thursday I went to buy loaf pans. This morning I started the bread. Except that I don't have a thermometer and I think the milk I added was too hot and killed my yeast. Yes, after the labor intensive process of mixing, kneading (I was sweating), shaping, rising, baking, I ended up with 2 solid brick loaves of bread that weigh about 7 pounds each. It has been 5 hours and I only have bricks to show for my work.

Ciao Roma!

It was in Rome that I really developed an appreciation (and I daresay, a fondness) for Rick Steves. Yes, Mom, I know you're proud. If you don't know, Rick Steves writes travel books designed to help Americans travel like locals, and ever since our family trip in France, Mom quotes him at every opportunity. This is always met with eye-rolling by my sisters and me. Well, now I understand.

He gave us good tips on avoiding lines, dressing appropriately for the Vatican, the history of different sights so we didn't have to pay the extra Euros for a guide, etc. At his suggestion, we started at Palatine and the Collosseum. We met up with Flo's coworker, Leo, who is Brazilian--so there we were: a Brazilian, Belgian, and American holding hands and singing Kum-Ba-Yah together in Italy. Love it. --It was a unique experience to walk in a place that was SO ANCIENT. We imagined all the people for thousands of years who had walked here, touched these ruins, and imagined if they could have envisioned all that passed since then.

(gladiator vs lion)

We were on a roll, on foot, with a map. Unstoppable. At the Trevi fountain we tossed coins and wishes over our shoulders, we admired the Pantheon from the outside because it was closed, we walked along the Tibis River to Trastevere where we sat on the steps of the church eating watermelon wedges, and then we sat down in an alley cafe for lunch. It was the cheapest place we could find which advertised plates of pasta for 5 Euros on the blackboard. The menus they brought to the table, however, advertised 8-10 Euros each. We asked about the 5 Euro options, and they sneered as they directed us over to the blackboard to decide. We felt savvy. When we ordered our drinks, the waiter suggested an appetizer.. caprese salad with tomatoes and fresh buffalo mozarella with basil. We agreed and ate everything heartily. When the bill came, we realized that our caprese salad appetizer cost 12 EUROS. With a $1.67 : 1 Euro exchange rate, that was about $20 for MAYBE 1.5-2 tomatoes and a hunk of mozarella cheese. We did not feel savvy.

The next goal was to find Della Palma, the gelateria that Leo's friend recommended. We asked the first local we saw who scowled as he shook his head and said he didn't know. We then decided we should probably ask someone who was not also selling gelato. Finally we found it, and it was like walking into Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory! There must have been hundreds of gelato flavors winding around the shop like Gaudi's winding park bench in Barcelona. I chose chocolate and coffee and let my spirit float to heaven while I ate them. Piazza Navona was my favorite place in Rome with the fountains and artists. Unfortunately the Four Rivers fountain was under renovation, but our spirits were lifted when a band set up and began to play wonderfully enticing music. Soon a large crowd had formed around them and we rocked out with them as they played their combination jazz, funk, soul, rock on all brass instruments--trumpets, flutes, tubas, saxophones, and drums. There was one woman in the group who played a drum. During a song she stepped forward with a megaphone and began singing Fever. Oooohhhh I had chills--I bought their CD on the spot. Samenakoa -- I also tried to convince them to come to Chicago.

The next day, Saturday, we joined every other tourist in Rome in the line for the Vatican. It turns out that August 15 is a holiday all over Europe celebrating the Virgin's Ascension, and so the Vatican had been closed on Thursday and Friday 8/14-15. 2 hours of telling stories to pass the time, but remaining alert so we didn't get passed by ALL the Asian tourists--I don't mean to stereotype, but the line-forming culture seems to be very different there. There is no respect for you-were-here-first, it's every man for himself and if you snooze, you lose.

The Sistine Chapel was impressive, but an absolute ZOO. There were so many bodies packed into the small space that really all one could do was swivel at the neck. Many of Raphael and Michelangelo's works have been restored in the last several years, so the colors are brilliant. We didn't see the Pope, but we did see John Paul II's tomb in the crypt. St. Peter's Basilica was breath-taking, but also packed. Though from a distance, Michelangelo's Pieta was beautiful. Apparently Mary's foot was wearing away from so many people kissing it, but the whole sculpture is now behind glass.

We needed to spend the afternoon surrounded by some green, so we sought out a park with trees, and came upon a most impressive statue!

After dinner, we went to the Spanish Steps to see what the evening culture there is like. Rick said it hopped. And it did. The steps looked like a stadium--full of people and vendors walked around trying to sell flowers and cans of beer. Nice combo.

Early the next morning, Flo and I had to part ways. Her vacation time was up and she left to head back to Brussels. I packed up to be on my way to Switzerland. Rome-Milan-Brig-Bern was my itinerary. I had only 10 minutes to change trains in Milan, so I darted off the train and bee-lined to the departure screen. To my dismay, the screen posted the departure time and end destination. My ticket had the departure time, train number, and MY end destination. Platform 8 was going to Zurich at 16:25. I was supposed to go to Brig at 16:25. I looked around. There was no one to ask. I started asking other travellers who waved me away saying they didn't know. With only 4 minutes to go, I decided I'd better get on this train. Just before boarding I asked the guy in front of me, who hesitated. He didn't think this was the right train, but wasn't sure. I spotted a woman in uniform and ran to the end of the platform to ask. No no, she said, you are on Platform 3. I sprinted to platform 3, lugging my suitcase behind, and knocking over anyone who got in my way, jumped on the train, and was safe. The spoken language changed from Italian to French.

Pretty much the same story in Brig--only this time the train was much fuller and with no overhead rack to stow luggage, I had to leave my suitcase in the aisle. Everyone obligingly stepped around it, until the snack cart came through. And now they were speaking German! I grunted as I pulled my suitcase onto my lap which was already occupied by my backpack, and again had flashbacks of that infamous train ride through France which ended with me falling over my bag in the aisle while all the French averted their gaze awkwardly. Luckily I escaped this train without further incident, and before I knew it I was in Etel and Adrian's car on the way to their apartment.

I slept soundly.

Love/Hate Illustrated

The next day started out with good omens--FINALLY! Someone lent Flo a charger, and we met 3 sweet French girls at breakfast who had a car and also planned on visiting Pompeii. Pompeii was interesting--not eery like I had imagined, but perhaps this had to do with the bright blue sky that was looking down. The view of Mt. Vesuvius was great, and the ruins gave so much insight into the way of life, the mixture of Greek and Roman history, and the thought process of the people. It was so hot, that after lunch we decided to go straight to the sea to swim.

Amalfi/Ravello were the last towns we wanted to hit before leaving the Amalfi coast. We left at 9:30 the next day to take the bus to the train to get to Sorrento where we wanted to take a boat to Amalfi at 11:15. Classic Caitlyn/Flo style, we had to run, and when we finally got to the ticket window, they said we couldn't go to Amalfi--I have no idea why, it said right in my time table Sorrento-Amalfi, but we ended up buying the ticket to Positano and then figuring we'd take the bus from Positano to Amalfi. A boat even came that was headed for Amalfi, but they wouldn't let us on. In any case, the boat was wonderful, the air was fresh, the sea was blue...

In Positano we walked up the hill, Flo wanted to stop and eat, but I wanted to pick up something in the grocery store and eat at the bus stop so we wouldn't waste more time.. I had my heart set on Ravello--the city of gardens where poets go to die. At the top of the hill (once more) we ate our sandwiches and waited for the 1:30 bus to Amalfi. When it came it was standing room only around those tight corners dangling off the cliffs. Surprisingly, someone called to us, and it was the 3 French girls and the Italian couple from our B&B who had taken this bus directly from Sorrento and had been riding for 3 hours! They didn't look happy. We were glad to have taken the boat in between.

Another hour later we arrived in Amalfi. The French girls planned to spend the day on the Amalfi beach, and the Italian couple (who spoke not a word of English) were headed on to Ravello. I asked if I could go with them, Flo waffled. Finally she decided she wanted to see Ravello, too. So we headed to another bus station. Another hour passed waiting and enroute before we finally arrived in Ravello. Ravello was beautiful! Fewer people, a beautiful church in the central plaza with mosaics, 360 degree panorama views of the mountains, vegetation, the sea, etc, and up many steps in the little town we came to the Villa di Cimbrone where poetry met nature met art. It was divine. sculptures, views, terraces, trees, flowers, inscriptions, fountains, it was a combination Italian and English style garden. THIS is what I had been waiting for! Communication between us and the Italians was limited, because they really didn't speak ONE WORD of English, but we smiled a lot, and they were patient--making an effort to understand my cryptic Italian and speaking slowly and clearly with me, waiting while I translated for Flo.


It was time to go, because we were hoping to catch a 6:30 boat back to Sorrento, however when we arrived, we decided it was too expensive so we took the bus. 2 more hours of sharp turns, cliffs, stopping abruptly, and FAST driving (even the Italians were commenting), and of course we were in the very last row--which my mother warned me about, but they were the only available seats!--and squeezed 4 people into 3 open seats. Poor Flo had had enough. I watched helplessly as she turned green and then suddenly asked for a plastic bag from our backpack. She was throwing up for the last 45 minutes of our trip. Even after getting off the bus, we still had to take the train back to Vico and then thankfully the Italians had a car to drive us all up to the B&B. Poor poor Flo. I thought she would never speak to me again.

Halfway up the hill in the car with the Italians, we had to stop to let a patron saint procession go by. I swear it was half of the town processing down the street with candles, bearing the statue of the saint on a platform, singing. Cool to see, but honestly, don't they have side streets for that kind of thing? Back at the B&B, Flo went straight to bed, so I had dinner with the Italians. Such effort to converse! But I couldn't get over how nice they were. They walked me back to my room after to check on Flo, and then came back with pills for nausea.

THe next day we packed up, gave Vincenzo our offerings of American BBQ sauce and Belgian chocolate to thank him for taking good care of us, and headed to the beach with the Italians with the Italians for the morning before boarding our trains to Rome. This particular beach was refreshing, but crowded and dirty. It was good to be in the water, despite the brown film coating our bodies when we left. Getting off the train in Naples, the doors closed on Flo's backpack and we had to yank her out before the train started moving again. She says she's unlucky. I'm beginning to believe her.

On the Napoli-Roma train, the woman we sat next to struck up conversation and then told me my Italian was very good. I couldn't help but laugh, but I was excited for her to say so! We made it to Rome and our convent (yes, we stayed with the sisters) without difficulty (FOR ONCE!), showered and headed out to explore Rome by night. We came upon the Collosseum all lit up with the full moon hovering above and felt our troubles melting away...