group's last day

but it didn't bother my plans any!

those suckers had two concerts, one in the morning and one in the evening. that means that i had the day for tourist-y junk, you know, like the louvre...

i didn't get to say goodbye to everyone as we (me and two other non-clankers, cathy and carol) were unexpectedly dropped off right at the louvre instead of having to hoof it from the church. anyhow, i was up late, journaling (in this blog, of course) the night before, so i made it down to breakfast in time to make a sandwich, scarf a thing of yogurt, and eat my sandwich on my way to the bus.

we get dropped off, then i go kick it with my boys, you know: michelangelo, vermeer, da vinci, raffaelo, rembrandt, canova, david (i saw some of his stuff at versailles the day before, too, exactly the same stuff, really)...oh, and there was some hellenistic sculpture too...anyhow, it was ass-kicking. no really, a little over-whelming, even. and i saw a mummy. a real, live mummy (it only walks around at night, after closing, so it was resting when i was visiting). but it was a really long day as well.

the two ladies and i almost closed the place, leaving just before 6:00, but that gave me some time to shave my noggin - a duty i neglected in the morning because of staying up so late the night before.

supper is just across the plaza at a halfway decent restaurant. we gave norbert and gerard their thank you card (and a decent tip as well, they both kicked ass). after supper, 12 of us went to, you guessed it, the eiffel tower. it was just about 9:00, which, in my estimation, would be enough time to go all the way to the top.

this is our group: carol (kelli's mom's aide from her work, not the lady i spent the day with at the louvre), roy (kelli's step'dad), saskia (the young girl, remember?), bob (her dad, keep up), terry (his wife, her step-mom, you didn't know that yet), liz (met her yesterday), stuart (you know him from his birthday), erika (if you don't know her by now, you're screwed), kelli (same with her), steve and sue (the couple i had drinks with in brugge), and me. they want me to lead this motley crew over the seine to the metro stop there then to the tower. whew. it's a lot of responsibility...

but i succeeded! admirably so, in my estimation. not only did we get there, but we got in the shortest line, and made it up to the very top of the eiffel tower! i did have to endure the same questions by the two same people the entire time...feel my pain:

"how much does it cost to go to the top?"
"12€."
"can you climb the stairs up there?"
"no, you can take the stairs to level two, but then have to take an elevator up to level three."
"can you take an elevator all the way up to the top?"
"well, yes, but, you really have to take two, one to the second level, then wait in line for the next elevator, which will take you to level three."
"you have to take two elevators to get to the top?"
"yes, or climb the stairs to the second level but there is no stair access to the third level."
"oh, you can't take the stairs to the third level?"
"no, there's an elevator to go there."
"you can take an elevator all the way to the top, then?"
"yes."
"so we don't have to get off the elevator, we can just take it all the way?"
"no, you have to get off the elevator at the second level, then wait in line for the elevator to the summit."
"there's two elevators?"


this goes on for the duration of the line at the bottom of the eiffel tower. by the end of it, i hate myself and am contemplating throwing myself off the top of the frickin' tower once i get there. this is literally torture. excruciating pain. i can feel my eyes glazing over and a look overcoming my face that is weary of this retarded question/answer session with two people. as soon as i answer one of them, the other asks a very similar question. they have this look on their faces like they just don't understand. i have this look on my face that my patience is tiring and i'm ready to kill someone. grr.

but, we make it through the first line. our group gets split up, but we immediately get in line. the sunset, at just after 10:00 pm, is amazing from the eiffel tower. the line moves fairly rapidly, but is still more than :30. we start cutting up and joking in the line. you can tell that we've been traveling for awhile and the travels, for some of us, are coming to a close. if everyone was this comfortable for the duration of the trip, the trip would've been way better. instead, there were nerves and unsuredness (is that a word? assuredly it is now! eh, maybe i should've used "uncertainty." screw it, unsuredness it is!) and uncomfortable moments, but it all came together at the very end.

our group reconnects with a couple of people joining us further up the line. we all cram into an elevator and go to the tippity top of the eiffel tower. now, just a night prior, the four honeys with whom i was flirting told me that the top of the eiffel tower was not worth the trip. that they have a grate blocking your view and that it gets in the way of your pictures. that the view is just as amazing from the second level. pish posh! those girls, although amazingly cute, know nothing about city views! the top is far different than the second level. the view is so beautiful!

i stake out a spot because, in :2o, the eiffel tower is about to become all sssparkly. i want to know what it's like to have it all sssparkly when you're on the tower, so i wait. there is a bit of a chill, well, for those of us that don't enjoy the feeling of fresh, cool air (read: i wasn't cold, i enjoyed being up there). steve and sue take off because her feet were hurting (oh, and the group was leaving at the ass-crack of dawn in the morning), and roy bailed with them (hehe, i was talking to him, and he said, "yeah, i've seen plenty of places off the top of high towers, like the seattle space neele, and..." whatever else - but it wasn't the eiffel tower in paris!!!). the other troopers hung out.

there is a grate separating you from the rest of the world, but the squares are fairly sizeable. in fact, saskia says, "hey, look! i can put my head through it!" that set off a series of picture taking - and a number of people sticking their heads through the grate...well, everyone but me. yeah. even with no hair, my huge melon couldn't squeeze in there. we had a great time, though, and i think the event was a good exclamation point on the last eight days of traveling with these weirdos (which i mean in a very loving way).

after the tower sssparkles for a little while, we head down. by the way, being on the tower when it sssparkles is pretty anti-climactic...the view is better when you view it either from the base or afar. for some reason, no one else wants to take the stairs down after we get to the second level (you know, because you can't take the elevator from the very top to the bottom, there's a second elevator that you have to take - no, really, it's true). we agreed to meet in the middle, and off i go...

there are almost 700 steps from bottom to the second level. that's more than two towers of pisa! but, going downstairs is way quicker (and easier) than going upstairs. unbeknownst to me at the time, they were timing me to see how long it took to get downstairs. they took :10 to get to the bottom, between waiting for the elevators and the actual ride down. by the time i got down, i thought they had already left, because i didn't see anyone...a few minutes later, here the come, spilling out of the exit. "oh, man, i should've gone down the stairway!" "i knew i should've gone down the steps!" blah, blah, blah - you had your chance!

unlike the first time i went to the eiffel tower, the metro was still running. we got back, made the trek over the river, and said our goodbyes. then, while i was tucked away in my bed, sawing logs (actually i was blogging, but, eh), they were packing their bags...

gay paree

after all of my after hour partying, getting up in the morning is no easy task, especially for me. but, i always make it to breakfast about 10 minutes before we're to leave, grab something, then run to the bus. i know i'm pushing my luck, but there's so much more to see than what's just on the tour agenda!

well, we're staying at the hotel mercure, which is in the accor chain of hotels, like the ibis, but supposedly nicer. allegedly. the room is spacious enough, two twins pushed together, but it's no ibis. breakfast at ibis is a lavish, albeit expensive, buffet spread of local breads, fresh meats and cheeses, delicious juices and milk, all of this. here, we have a group area to meet for breakfast and it's a stripped down version of this, but way, way shittier. the eggs look like they're made from a mix, the meats are undercooked bacon and sausage, and the selection is very limited. i'm not impressed, even if i am on the verge of being late.

but i'm not even the last one on the bus this morning, luckily. after everyone loads up, we head to the palace at versailles. we take the tour through the palace, used during the reign of three or four king louie's...blah, blah, blah, oh, look! a kick ass garden! oh, wait, it's 8€ and we're leaving in :20...oh, well, another thing to see when i come back...

after versailles, we get dropped off in the latin quarter (or quartier, as the signs say) for lunch and some free time. the group has practice tonight in the american church in paris, but we have about four or five hours to do as we please and are close to the notre dame.

one of the interesting things, to me, about traveling with such a large group, is where everyone decides to eat. quite frankly, most of the restaurants are rip offs with maybe mediocre food. but you get to pay a lot for it! i'm not too hip on this idea, so i head off to find a sandwich or panini or something instead of paying these exorbitant prices. and, boy, howdy, did i luck out! i found a little crêperie on the street. money. for 4,50€, i got a ham, cheese, and egg crêpe. talk about scrumptious too!

after i got it and had started munching on it, sarah, liz, and stuart stop at the same place. now i have partners in crime! they belly up, get whatever they got, and we head across the street to eat in the park. after that crèpe, we go for a dessert crêpe. mine is nutella, a whole banana, a sprinkle of coconut, and, i didn't see him dose it with this, but i could certainly taste it, a bucketload of deliciousness.

with crêpes in hand, we head down the road to the notre dame. this is cool, not as cool as the one in amiens, but it's cool. we try to enter, but it's closed for a special ceremony. liz needs to buy some souvenirs, so we stop in a shop and start walking around. we get to the sainte-chappelle, a church that norbert told us about (located in a police station, the security is tough, but it has some beautiful stained glass and is worthwhile).

while waiting in line, they decide to go shopping because they don't have enough cash for it. we don't know how much it costs, so i decide to tough it out. we make arrangements to meet in front of the notre dame at 4:30, when it opens again.

this chapel is so beautiful. the room is buffeted on all sides by stained glass that seems to go from floor to ceiling. the colors are predominantly blue and red. there is strong evidence of the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. they should've spent the couple of euro to hang out, it was definitely worth it.

i go back to the front of notre dame to meet them and, of course, the line is outrageous, stretching all the way back across the square. i walk the line twice, from back to front to back again, and don't see them anywhere. so, i take my spot at the end of the line and figure they'll find me (i'm not small, should be easy, right?). i found out much later that they found an opportunity to sneak in, cutting much of the line, so they ditched me. jerks.

after wandering through the church (again, beautiful, but not as pretty as the one in amiens), i pop out the back to see about going up the stairs to the top. the line was about an hour to an hour and a half long, and we were leaving in two, so it didn't seem like a wise choice. unbeknownst to me at the time, the three of them were in that line, waiting to go up.

instead, i use my time meandering through the streets. i saw a ton of crowds, some killer architecture, and some interesting people (more to come on that in a minute). one of the caricature draw-er guys singled me out for my goatee and asks to use me as an example.

note about street vendors abroad: all these guys want to do is make a sale. if they can get the product in your hand, get you to participate in their scheme, or get you to talk to them, they have a chance. usually, they start with a sale of something. then they "give" it to you as a gift, asking for a donation of whatever you would like. if that doesn't work, then they try to guilt you into giving them money. the easier you are to be manipulated, the more cash leaving your pockets.

i oblige and take a seat. he goes through and does a half-way decent drawing of me (better than some of the other guys, for sure). once he's done, he shows it to me and i take a quick picture. it's an example right? rrrrright. "come on, i give you good price. i tell you what, i give it to you, you pay me what you want." "no, thanks, i was doing you a favor. thanks for using me as an example." i get up to leave. "you americans." "we love you americans," one of his mates chimes in. "see you guys. thanks again." "here. i give it to you for nothing, since you americans are so poor." "oh, yeah? thanks so much! that's such a great gesture." yeah, right. don't scam a scammer, buddy. i'm on to you...

so i totally score that caricature of me in paris. (and i don't feel one iota of guilt about it, either.) not too shabby. i've got a little over an hour before the group goes to practice at the american church in paris. after they get done, we're riding a boat down the seine to tour the sites on either side of the river. while they do their thing, i plan on finding an internet cafe for the hour and a half or two hours and then meeting up with them after. i head back to where we got dropped off.

now, here comes the part when i come clean...see, when we got dropped off, norbert told us that we might have a problem with the bus because of the parade that was planned for the afternoon. i really wanted to see this parade, but i wasn't sure that i would make it, but it ended up i could...anyhow, when i get back up the hill, i hear the music...

dooge, dooge, dooge, doon, doon, dooge, dooge, dooge, doon, doon

booming.

the street is covered in confetti and just up the street is a huge party. "so this is what they mean by 'gay paris'!" i think to myself, and i run to catch up to the biggest, gayest parade i've ever been to (admittedly it was my first, but still!), and it was in paris! i went flying up the side of the parade, walking the entire route, trying to take as many pictures as i could.

the floats, each of them booming music with their "acts" aboard (one of which was the bear float that's side proclaimed, "we are not teddy bears,' with all the guys baring their chests). the transvestites (all of which were topless, of course). the drag queens (including the older one, in her mid-50s, probably, dressed up all elizabethan style, fan and umbrella included). the dancers (even tried to get the picture of the five- or six-year old kid on the balcony dancing to the techno music like a professional). and as many of the crowd i could.

what a time! i was trying to represent. as e said, she's more butch than me. oh, and because i didn't plan for it, no, i was in my walking shoes, not like anyone would notice my flashy toes anyhow.

then, it was over. i met up with the group, went to the church, left the church for unsuccessfully seeking an internet cafe with saskia (our youngest member, at 13), her dad bob, and stuart, the second youngest (and quite possibly nerdiest) member of the crew. they ended up wanting to get something to drink, so i continued my search then joined them. i endured stuart's stories, although it was kind of cute, sort of like talking with some people at work. except that he hasn't come into his own yet, he's still all over the place.

we get back at the end of an evidently tense practice then head to the boat. after breaking through the crowd, i head to the top to save some seats for our group. after about :10, i figure i'd be scoping it out on my own, then sarah appears. phew. at least i won't be alone.

we go up and down the seine, not being able to hear the "tour," which is announced in a number of different languages and hardly a murmur over the crowd. sarah gets frustrated at her camera, but i get some good shots of the eiffel tower, even as it sssparkles. that's when the girls behind me start chatting me up (they just want the pictures that i was taking as their camera sucks ass; it was their last night anyhow). the two sisters, tara and taylor, are sitting behind me, io, their korean counterpart that was forced upon them by contiki (who they do not recommend as a tour group, by the way), and megan, their cousin. anyhow, i flirted with them until the ride was over. what's a guy to do?

finally, this day is over. but, what a day! there were so many memories created in this single day, definitely building my love for the city. at the end of it all, i will miss being here. just because i was there first, paris reminds me a lot of washington dc...they even have something that looks like the white house here (just 'cause we modeled it when we built the white house)! well...except for that "everyone speaks french" part...maybe if i learn it, it won't be so daunting...

on the road again

i woke up a little early, but rolled back over. when i did, i noticed that it was overcast. being on the inside of the hotel, my view did not look out, so i couldn't really see the sky. when i went downstairs at 8:45 (of course), i saw the downpour! finally, the sky let loose, and dropped it in buckets. after i got done eating, my bags were already loaded, as were almost everyone else's.

then we were on the road. we head to amiens, where there is another notre dame, our lunch, and...a toilet? (that last part is a hopeful question, by the way.) we find our way out of the bus, then go to where the bathrooms are. except the door is closed. and today is small bladder day. at least for me it was. i had to piss like you wouldn't believe.

15 minutes later, when we find the information office, we find out that the sewer overflowed or something like that, and then we have to find another bathroom. the office is ever so helpful and directs us to the toilette a little ways down the road.

these toilettes are little one-headers that make life difficult for 25 people who all have to pee really, really bad. you're supposed to go in, do your business, pop out, let it do its business (it sprays the entire bathroom down after each use), and then let the next person go. the stupid americans as we are, decide to send one person in after the other until six people have gone and the "water" is almost to the top of the bowl. (luckily, i had no part in this, norbert scouted out another one like this, and i was over there the whole time they were breaking this toilette. god's honest trust. really.)

we lose about an hour with this, so are set free for lunch. some of the group (kelli, her mom and dad among them) want pizza. this slays me. i mean, how much pizza can you have on one trip? then again, have at it - it's vacation, after all. i just want a quick sandwich and to be on my merry way, which is what i get.

my merry way included a croissant-like thing with chocolate and some cream, by the way. and some milling around to kill some time with erika and karen.

then we meet up with the group and norbert tells us about the notre dame in amiens. this notre dame is bigger than the one in paris. it's really cool, too. supposedly, john the baptist's noggin is in there. and i got a picture of his alleged skull! how all of these biblical relics ended up in europe, i'll never know, but, even if it's not true, a great many people believed it and the catholic church got richer and richer, so...god bless 'em!

we load back up and head for paris. as we're driving along, i'm noticing a building excitement within myself. amsterdam was cool, the row houses on the canals were very beautiful. my last day in holland, however, i was starting to be bummed because sitting in churches listening to bells was not what i signed up for (then why are you on a bell tour, dummy? - the answer's simple: more free time, except that we landed in some obscure places where there was nothing happening! that means downtime, not free time!). brugge kicked ass, though, and my spirits started to swing there.

and the french countryside is definitely something to see! holland, to me, was rolling meadows, pretty in its own right, but a little boring (don't let norbert or gerard read this, they'll gang up on me!). i couldn't keep my eyes off the country on the way to paris, though. different crops roll by, red potatoes, flax, corn, strawberries, etc. we go through small towns. a ruin sitting in the distance, maybe bombed out from either of the world wars. little cemeteries marking bad memories on either side of the road. an excitement was building inside of me, and i couldn't put my finger on it.

then we get to the peripherique, the ring road around paris. then everything comes crashing down. it's friday afternoon and the traffic is atrocious. we have an hour, are trying to check into our hotel, then make it to supper on the other side of town by 7:00 pm, otherwise we won't be served. we end up cutting out the hotel check in, and make it just under the gun. gerard can't eat with us, though, because he has to park the bus a good distance away.

now, for starters, the city is really pretty. as we're driving along, i notice that it's the color that my mom likes her coffee: blond. everything's a cream color. this uniformity is oddly comforting as well. so, here's the part where i have to give my pops some props. remember when i was in venice and talked about his two favorite cities? well, paris is tops, in his humble opinion (yeah, right - humble, hahaha), and with good reason. this place is so very nice! now, it still doesn't trump florence, for me, and i'll probably need a month or so to re-evaluate, but it's a great town, and i like it very, very much.

supper is an appetizer of ham and cheese quiche with salad, a leg and thigh quarter over egg noodles with a barbecue-ish sauce, and a piece of flan for dessert. quick, easy, tasty. can't complain.

then we go to our hotel, seeing a couple of sites along the way. as we pass the eiffel tower, i overhear one of the ladies behind me say, "it's pretty on the tv." are you kidding me!?! i really hate traveling snobs, but what i hate more is traveling with people that can't appreciate what they're seeing! we unload, check in, and then some of us start rounding up others for, what i thought was, going to the eiffel tower. i mean, we're in paris. what else do you do on your first night?

i was way off! "nah, i'm too tired." "i'm not wearing the right shoes." "i'm just going to whine and complain and maybe not even see it." grr. oh, well, i head off on my lonesome around 10:00 pm (the sun was just starting to go down!). i have to cross the river to get to my metro stop, walk around 'til i find it, pay the euro fifty for my ticket, and then get off on the right stop. it's actually easier than it may seem, although it took a little while. i probably hit the line a little after 10:30 pm. of course, i want to go to the tippity top! there are three levels, you can climb the stairs up to the first two but then have to take an elevator to the top.

while i'm waiting in line, it seems as though there's a lightening storm above...or fireworks, but it was pretty silent. instead, it was the tower putting on a spectacular light show for the next 10 minutes. all of these lights start to flash, sort of a strobe effect, but it's amazing!

as i'm waiting in line, the updates on the screen in front of me change, the summit is closed. i'm bummin' pretty hardcore, but, hey, i'll still drop the cash to get to level two and see what i can see. after all, i'm here by myself, so the likelihood of coming back, maybe even a little earlier is great, maybe even with someone else. maybe.

anyhow, i make it to the top of level two, and i enjoy the sights and scenes and remarkable views for about an hour. there, i realize that i'm a sucker for city views. they're good contemplation spots. i go down to level one to walk around. at midnight, the "flashy, flashy, flash," as norbert explains it the next day, goes off again. then i start making my way down. there were about 700 steps between the two levels.

on the ground, i take some more picture, then make a break for the metro. i'm stopped by these guys behind me who ask, in broken english, if they can take a picture with me. who am i to stop my fans from immortalizing themselves with me, really? and that's how i meet alex and spiro, from kazakhstan. they're mixed martial arts fighters on tour (and their real job is personal security). spiro is taking alex and my picture first. i pick the little fellow up to quite the shocked expression. after the first picture, spiro's about to take another, and i ask alex, "like a baby?" he didn't know what i meant. so, i went for it, about to pick him up like a little girl. hahaha. he didn't go for it, but it was funny. then alex takes my picture with spiro. then i get their pictures with me on my camera.

anyhow, they end up staying at the same hotel and ask me if i want a drink. again, if the masses want you, go with the masses. eh, that theory doesn't really work all that well with peer pressure, but, what the hell. we go back to the metro stop, which is closed, so we take a cab back. we get an suv-like cab, higher off the ground, but only three seats in the back seat. poor alex has to ride bitch, he's the bigger one of the two. the ride seems to take forever, but we're cracking up talking about little things (you know, "wife?" "where you from?" stuff like that).

there's nothing really open around the hotel, but we find a little market. we each grab a couple of beers - and i get some water - and we head back. out front, there are some homeless guys, one a black man with dreads playing on his bongo drum, which, evidently attacted the others. they're drunk and dancing and having fun. alex walks over and dances...kind of. then spiro has to play the drum, poorly. but it was fun nonetheless. then, it's bedtime...

so, yeah - what a day, right? seeing a beautiful notre dame church (which was not even close to being crowded), then being up in the eiffel tower, and just driving around the beautiful city of paris...very nice. we'll see what tomorrow brings...

don't hit me! i brugge easy!

today is gerard's day off. the bus can't move at all today. so, we go on a walking tour of the town of brugge (pronounced like brooj). our morning starts at 9:00 - well, the group's starts at 8:00 for breakfast, but i hit that breakfast bar around 8:45 or so, but we meet out front at 9:00. norbert has a local lady take us around brugge, where we learn about the town's importance in the 16th century, as a merchant town, and there were about twice as many inhabitants then as there are now (about 24,000 today).

we saw the apothecary, the madonna and child statue carved by michelango (which was supposed to be for a family in venice, i believe, but they didn't want it so a family in brugge bought it; it's only been removed twice, by that jerk napoleon and that other jerk hitler; both times it was returned), and the hospital in the town. the hospital museum was not stellar, but cool to see how things were done back in the day.

after that, our guide split, and we had some free time. now...when you're in rome, you do as the romans do. when you're in amsterdam, as i illustrated in my last blog, you do as the amsterdam-ian-ites do. so, now that you're in belgium, guess what you do, kids? go hunting for chocolate. damn straight.

we found a shop with some cock-olate (that would be chocolate in naughty formations), so, of course, kelli wanted to go there. we tried some (not in the perverted forms), and found it to be not great. we shopped around some more, checked out the lace shops and stuff, but then just met up with the group to walk back for lunch. nothing too exciting, really.

lunch was pretty tasty, back at our hotel. we started with an asparagus soup then had chicken with a buttery sauce (hard to explain, but it was good), croquettes, and a small salad, and a delicious strawberry tart. then we were set loose to do as we pleased until the group met back up for the next concert, in a town hall building across the city.

i took a nap. the group headed out, and i went shopping for chocolate (not that other stuff that we already found), i was really afraid of getting lynched by my friends and family if i didn't bring some back. the walk was nice, and i saw much of the little town. i'm not going to say whether or not i found what i was looking for, but i was back at the hotel within an hour or two.

what else do belgians do? well, they brew beer. now, i wasn't going to brew any beer, but wanted to help them drink it. i've also been thinking about some things at work (i know, i know, i'm on vacation) that i wanted to hash out, so, might as well combine the two things. makes things go easy, don't-cha-know?

i go to the pub two doors down, and am greeted by two guys sitting at one of the bar tables. one's a little short dude, average and pretty unmemorable. the other guy is a page out of the trailor trash book - black socks, shoes, gaudy and terrible swim trunks, tucked in gray shirt. then he has the pervy 'stache and is unshaved for the last couple of days (and i don't feel bad for writing about him 'cause i saw him eyeing me up and down and making some cracks about something that i don't know what it was with his twerpy little friend; maybe they were talking about solving the worldwide poverty problem...i still don't feel bad). the other patrons all seem to know these guys - and everyone else in there. so, i feel good about this choice.

i grab a menu and look at my drink options. the only beer i recognize on the menu is jupiler, and only because i've seen the signs around town. so, i get that. i belly up to the bar, and the bartender is standing behind the bar, pouring drinks, of course. she's tall and skinny.

by tall, i mean that she's taller than me. maybe 6'8", 6'9" tall. and by skinny, well, she would obviously be skinner than me, maybe 160 pounds. she's surly, but she serves me my beer. spain and russia come on the television screens a little while later, the audio switching from terrible '80s music (that everyone was singing to, unfortunately) to the game. i drink a few beers, write out some stuff for work (which i hope to implement soon!), drop my last 20 euro to cover that which i drank, and walked out trying to find the group that should have returned a half-hour to an hour earlier.

and they had. i ran into one of them who told me that the group was across the square at a restarant. i waited for them to come back before going to eat, and now i realized that i waited too long to eat! i went in the restaurant, and they just stopped serving. the waiter directed me to another place, but it was closed as the owners were on holiday. so, i find another place. steve and sue are looking for another drink, so they come with me. luckily, the place took credit. unluckily, it was expensive as hell.

we caught up, steve telling me their life stories and such, i had some chicken, green beans, and salad, and then we headed to the hotel to crash.

while we were doing this, the rest of the group had found ice cream, which was placed on a, you guessed it, belgian waffle. they said it was the best ice cream they had ever eaten. i'm partially jealous and partially glad. well, 'cause i won't know if it was better than the gelato i had on lido or not. ignorance is bliss!

last day in holland

first of all, sorry for the break. it's tough finding internet cafes sometimes!

the day after my last blog was our last day in holland, and stuart's 16th birthday. the choir had a concert in the morning in downtown amsterdam and one in the evening in a little town between amsterdam and brugge, belgium. before the concert, we went a couple of houses down from the church to the anne frank house.

as i have said on many occasions about this trip, wow. a term that, for me, at least, is not losing any steam anytime soon. the way of life, the detail, the explicitness, the reality of it all...wow. if you're ever in amsterdam (ma, pa), come see the frank house. well worth the eight euro or whatever it was to go through it.

after that, i had to do laundry. i found a little dry cleaner shop a little ways down the street. i think i got taken on it (iman, my buddy originally from egypt that has been in amsterdam for the last 18 years originally told me it would cost eight euro for me to do my load, then charged me 15 - i still paid, 'cause i wanted the clean laundry - but, dang!), but at least i'm not as smelly as i could be.

afterwards, i had to do what the netherlanders do (it's the whole "when in rome" thing, of course): went to the red light district and kicked it in a coffeeshop. certainly, both of these things were merely for the opportunity to say that i did them, i didn't get a contact high or even slightly aroused by the women working behind the plexiglass windows, but, hey - i walked the red light district and kicked it in a coffeeshop! who's jealous now!?!

that was actually much more difficult than one may imagine...i had about an hour or an hour and a half and was given general directions. unlike the westerkerk, where the group was playing, there were no signs saying, "red light district, three blocks." i had to meander my way there - and back, another fairly amazing feat, by 2:00 pm. and, i'm happy to say, i did so. champeen, that's what i am!

the group wraps up and we head to...some little town. once there, we unloaded the bus and the group had a little time to practice. i tried to snooze, but, shortly thereafter, martin came through.

now, martin is an interesting little fellow. he's working with, i think his name is cole porter, but i have not been upholding my end of the bargain when it comes to names, the bell ringer from here. first about the bell guy, whatever the hell his name is. he has three cases of bells that are combined to create an organ-like instrument that plays bells. i'll get some pictures in here sometime soon. hopefully. anyhow, the cases are pretty heavy (as i was walking up to the church after the anne frank house before doing my laundry, "cole," martin, and some lady that was helping them - maybe his wife? - were unloading this case, i happened upon them and they asked for my help; little did they know that i was traveling with the opening act!). he plays them beautifully, which is quite a sight to see and a sound to hear.

back to martin. he's wearing jeans, a camo shirt that says something about holland on it, and is generally quiet. his hair is parted down the center, a little overdue for the black coloring that's starting to show his natural colors at the roots in the part, falling almost to his shoulders. after he starts talking, i noticed that he is a little weird, a little awkward, but still a cool guy. we end up having a conversation about metal (music) later and are quick friends...-ish...

so, when he strolls through the church, we talk for a moment. "cole" is finding a parking spot, and soon i will be helping with these heavy ass bells. my nap is cut way short, but, alas, that's cool. i like being useful, so this works out well. for a moment, we thought that we may not be able to bring them in as the stairs were far too steep and those silly architects didn't build the church with an elevator back in the 1300s or whenever the hell it was that this church was built. jerks. we found a way around it, then brought in the bells.

after practice is over, we walk across town to have supper. chinese food tonight. we sit down at one of the three tables, and they start bringing out dishes. omelette with a red sauce (tomato-y, kind of), szechuan beef?, almost a sweet-and-sour-chicken, fried pork, chop suey, a terrible satay chicken, a salmon dish of some sort (i even tried it - not too bad), and a shrimp and mussels plate (i think - i did not try that). with the rice and noodles (in separate bowls), we had a very filling meal. dessert was not included, so we had a beverage as well. i had a heine, of course, the rest of the crew had sodeys. mostly.

back to the church. the group gets changed. i read my book. concert starts. there's about 35 people in there. not too bad for such a small venue! afterwards, they give norbert an offering of 300 euro and compliments abound for the group. many people are interested in these bells! unfortunately, we have little time as we have to drive to brugge, belgium, which will take about an hour and a half to two hours, and our driver (whose name i butchered, it's simply gerard, but pronounced much harder than that with a strong "h" sound, as though saying the "j" in spanish) has little time before he has to park the bus.

we make it brugge (on the way, i finish my third book on this trip, thank you very much!), gerard parks the bus at his time limit on the dot, and we get settled in. even though the day was almost over, we still wanted to celebrate little (and weird, the boy is very, very weird) stuie's 16th birthday. we got some clarification from norbert on the drinking rules over here (at 16, kids can have beer and wine, the hard stuff has to wait until 18), so we meet up in the lobby to go for a beer.

we have about 15 people that head out to find a bar a little after midnight in the small town of brugge. everything is quiet, but, luckily, there was still one place open across the plaza from our hotel. we get there, and kelli's step-dad goes in with norbert to order the first round. not a hit. we're drinking bavaria and, woe is me, i have to finish about three of the beers. forced to. not by choice, of course.

well, this is stu's first beer. his mom, an admitted "beer snob," thought it was a good beer, but everyone else disagreed (not tops, but it was alright, in my humble opinion, of course). stuart, on the other hand, only got about halfway through his beer. i caught his mom stealing a sip, and gave him hell for it (hey - it's his first drink, the yungin had better be able to choke it down!). we all laughed at his expense. now, isn't that what friends are for?

i was in the north sea today

no, really. the cold one? yeah, really far up north? i was in it! today! well, not today, really, but yesterday...

we got up in the morning and came down to breakfast (it's like our breakfastses in germany, sam! meats, brotchens, cheeses, fresh juices, nutella!), then loaded up around 9:00 am. this morning, we're going to delft, where they make the delftware pottery. well, where they should be making the delftware pottery. we get a tour of the factory (which is amazing, the master painters can paint a plate with intricate detail in about an hour and a half), then spend an eternity in the gift shop while everyone picks something up.

after everyone finally finishes, we go to...leiden? i don't remember, but it's differentiated because it has two churches, an old church and a new church. the old church was built in the 13th century and the new church not so long ago, in the 14th century. we get to scope them out, and they're beautiful, of course. then have some time for lunch.

for some reason heineken is pretty prominent here. i have to say, drinking a heine at 0 degrees centigrade is a mighty tasty endeavour. lunch takes a long time, is decent, but takes forever. i had two beers. two delicious, perfectly frosted beers...mmm...

we load up again, and, i think, we go someplace that is escaping me right now. after that, we roll up to the north sea. here, we have a few hours of free time to enjoy some dinner. a gang of us tried to throw a couple of euro away at the casino, but none of us wanted to pay the 3.50 euro cover charge to drop a euro or two in the machines so we could say we gambled in holland.

that's when i break from the group. i go to the grocery store i saw, bought some asian food from the deli (which was not very tasty, by the way - and more expensive than i thought it would be) and a six-pack of, you guessed it, the beer they had: heineken and went to the beach. the sand there is very soft, norbert tells us that it gets destroyed every year, so every year they dredge sand from miles out and deposits it to create the beach. there are restaurants there on the beach as well, temporary buildings that also get reconstructed n an annual basis.

i plop down in the sand, which is very fine, soft, and does not stick to you. a nice attribute, no? i eat my meal while watching the families and lovebirds and everyone. after, i walk down and let the water lap up over my feet (with my slut red toes, no less!). brrr! that water is damn cold! then i go back to my spot, wathc te naked baby run around a bit, listen to the screams of the young ladies that feel the freeze of the cold water, and watch the runners and surfers enjoy their craft.

the six-pack didn't make that much of an impression on me, so, when we head back to the hotel, i talk kelli into coming down to the bar for a drink or two. well, there's this thing that the choir does, sort of a tradition. it's a card game called "phase 10," made by the makers of uno. the others find out that we're heading that way, so, before you know it, there's 14 card players, me, and one other non-player.

kelli and i are rapping with the bar tender and we ask if a 15-year old, liz's son, can hang out with us in the bar area. the guy tells us that they have their first beer at 12, so it's no problem at all. kelli then asks liz if the yong chap can have a drink. she asks him, he's actually a bit tentative, but reluctantly agrees. the order on tap: malibu pepsi. i ask him later if he enjoyed it, and he said that it tasted very good. i doubt that he felt any of the effects of it, but it put a smile on his face. today, a drink, tomorrow the red light district? eh, his mom probably doesn't want him to grow up that much on this trip!

i end up drinking some cognac from france that is pretty tasty. when i go up for some more, three young gentlemen are up there and ask me how i'm doing. i figure they're practicing their english, and i'm not far from the mark. we have a pleasant conversation. one of them lives in los angeles and sells tulips, from here, over the internet. he had to get his annual europe fix, so he's here for a little while. but, he has to get to work, so they take off.

i was talking with the bartender, when a lady compliments me on my goatee. she's a half of one of the two couples there, celebrating her friend's husband's 60th birthday. her friend, the other lady, asks me how to say it in english. i tell them goatee. she asks, "like from a goat?" "i don't know, but that's what it's called. it can have a mustache too, but when it's shaved on the sides, it's a goatee." "what's this called, then?" she asks, pointing at ther husband who has a little bit of a scruff, but a mustache long enough to curl the edges. i say, "a beard with a fabulous mustache!"

after the phase 10-ites scurry to their rooms, kelli and i end up hanging out with these two couples and the dutch gentleman with the english accent, as he lives there now. he's a little rambunctuous, flirtying with kelli, who disarms him gently but easily. we laugh with these guys for a good long while, then go our separate ways for some rest...ahhh, rest! i'm going to get some of that now!

two days' worth

alright, so i finish my gelato, the last little bit of deliciousness from italy, and get a 1.5 liter bottle of water. i walk out and start heading to the boat stop to go to the train station. who do i meet? my lovely companions, sitting at the very next restaurant, in plain view of my fountain escapade...

i walk up and pull up a chair. they're cool, but something's amiss. kelli's quiet, while erika endulges me in the small talk i was making. uh oh. that can only mean one thing: trouble.

"so, i notice that you paid a third of the balance, not of the bill. i told you last night that i paid a 20% deposit." shit. of course she had, and, of course, i had forgotten. i'm not a malicious man by nature, but, by her tone, i was this morning! her and my agreement, before the trip, was that i would cover the traveling expenses and she would cover the hotel/hostel expenses and that we would make it all right at the end. erika was to pay me her portion of the travel expenses at the end as well, and then all would be well. right?

unfortunately, after erika pulled some money out of the bank initially, it wouldn't allow her to pull any cash out of the bank after that. (editorial comment: after this experience and my previous experience with bank of america, never bank there; pull your money out and find a nice little credit union or reputable entity that is not wells fargo and enjoy your banking experience, but never go to b of a.) the girls made an arrangement that superseded the arrangements that i had with them, which was fine,

but unknown until after their agreement had been made. and now they wanted to settle everything up. the problem that i had with that is that i'm putting the travel portion of this trip on my credit card and having an extra 200 euro will not help me pay off my credit card. (after much frustration and three international calls lastng at least 15 minutes each, erika was finally able to sort everything out and can get cash from the atm all is well, rest assured.)

the 15 euro that i didn't cover got under kelli's skin, and this was the conversation we were having, i figured out that i had goofed, which raised this point of contention, we talked it out, and now we have it sorted out...i hope.

after they had their cappuccino, we split up the huge hunk of milk chocolate from the night before that kelli didn't want melting in her pack for some odd reason. we threw some away, 'cause it was too much. then we walk to the boat stop to return to the train station.

when we get there, we decide to head to the airport sooner than later. this cuts into our ability to see much more of venice, but at least we get to the airport on time. earlier than expected, even.

at treviso airport, which is in the little town of treviso, italy (beautiful little town, really), we get through security and into the cattle call area of the gate. we load up. a little over an hour and 300 advertisements later (thank you, ryanair), we arrive in charleroi, brussels.

the girls made a friend who needs to get to the charleroi train station too, so he helps us through baggage collection to the bus stop. andrew is fresh out of college, lives in brussels, and has worked for the european union for the last two months. he's picking up french, but his accent is terrible (i got to hear him at the train station). he was quite friendly.

luckily, the train we needed was running late, so we got to ride it :20 after it was supposed to depart. we make an extra transfer that we didn't need to, and had to listen to the cussing that the nederlander made in the row ahead of us when he found out that the netherlands was losing in the euro cup (thanks to the little cutie that clued us in about the announcements made in dutch over the intercom). but, we get to schiphol, the airport of amsterdam. about an hour later, the hotel bus shows up, and we go to spend the night in ibis.

now, i have fond memories of hotel ibis, of the accor chain. the rooms are modern and nice, nothing great in size, but sufficient. this ibis is much the same, only older. the girls all pile into one room, leaving me to myself. i fall asleep around 2:15 am...we have to meet downstairs at 8:00 for the shuttle back to the airport to meet the group.

and we do. they come around, many of them wearing the purple t-shirts that kelli's mom tried to get for me too (but thankfully failed), and we load up. our tour guide's name is norbert, and he's an older gentleman, very kind. english is not his first language, but he speaks it very well. our driver, hergaart (i'm making that up as i go along, but it's how his name sounds, with a very strong h sound to kick it off) is also good-natured, although his handle on the english language is minimal at best.

after a couple of jokes about the red light district and the pot shops, we go to the van gogh museum (we've been saying his name for a very, very long time...) and have an independent lunch. after, we go back to the airport to pick up some others, then head to downtown amsterdam.

amsterdam is a beautiful town, with 88 canals running through it. the homes that line the streets and canals are like brownstones, multi-leveled, no side yard, and absolutely beautiful. the facades are all different, but they're very nice. we have a few minutes to walk through one of the tulip markets downtown
, then head out to sossenheim, where we're staying for three nights.

with the newly jet-lagged, we have some free time before supper. there's not a damn thing to do here, though, so we're all confined to our hotel rooms, basically. i get internet tv set up, some of the clankers practice...

supper was nice. starting with a delicious vegetable soup, the main course was a wienerschnitzel with mushroom sauce (a little dry, but otherwise good - well, for everyone but the mushroom-opposed), a side plate of skillet-fried potatoes, green beans (sliced diagonally into thin strips with an odd spice on top, maybe nutmeg or allspice), and french fries. we finished supper with a piece of apple struedel and homemade whipped cream. delicious.

after the meal, well, i blogged. then crashed...yesterday was a whole new day...


(and, if you would like to follow along on their adventures, kelli's mom started a blog after finding out about this one: http://campanillasdelsol.blogspot.com/. have at it, kids!)

my last italian meal for 2008

after blogging, i walk to find the girls. i can't find them, but i walk to find them. with that intent, at least. maybe they went on to catch the 51 boat from lido back to the venice train station. maybe they're hiding under an umbrella somewhere, enjoying a leisurely lunch on this leisurely street. regardless, i walk to find them. it is lunchtime, now, so, if i don't find them, i'll grab a bite at the end of the street.

i arrive at the end of the street, and haven't seen the girls. this place, from which i'm getting lunch, is just a little kitchen in a trailer that's parked on the side of the road with coolers flanking the bar and a seating area under a thatched roof. not big at all. yesterday, walking by, i saw these two delicious-looking sandwiches being handed across the bar. they looked like burgers, but, this is italy. there aren't burgers in italy.

i sit down at the bar. the guy to my right has a glass of water, and asks the waiter/owner/barkeep for a splash of wine in his water. odd, sure, but, when in rome, right? or venice, as the case may be. well, lido, more accurate...anyway, the waiter pulls a sandwich off the panini machine, halves it, sets it on a wooden plate, and then hands it to the guy. looks good.

"how's the panini?" the broken english answer i get back is that it's good. "what's on it?" a list of different things. "i'll have that. with everything." i wave my hand for effect, sweeping it through the air from below the bar to the sky. his eyes bulges. "everything?" he asks, incredulously. "sure, what the heck - just no tomatoes." "just three things," his grumpy partner in crime says from the meat slicer in the corner, with which he is using to slice tomatoes. "this boorger, real good-a. big-a." hmm.

i'm no advocate to eat good god-fearin' american comfort food abroad. that's not my style. and i want to punch everyone in the face who says, "i just couldn't wait to get to a mcdonald's." and not just once, either. but i start justifying this in my head. "burgers aren't really american - they're from hamburg, in germany. maybe it'll be alright. i mean, hamburguesas in mexico are nary similar to that which we enjoy in the states. besides, we're not clickin' on all cylinders here, our communication. give it a shot."

"alright! with everything - but tomatoes."

he breaks out a burger and throws it on the panini machine. then he sprinkles two different kinds of dried spices on it. he doesn't bring the top down to the meat. he pulls out a good-sized roll and cuts it. then starts to decorate it with vegetables. lettuce. onion. i think pickle too, but i don't remember. then he gets out the roll of mozzarella cheese and takes off three hunks. he drops them on the burger, then brings the top down so it's just millimeters away from the cheese. from the little fridge, he breaks out the ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise, squirting them individually on the other half of the bun. he promptly replaces them, then checks the burger. almost done. when it's ready, he sets it on the vegetables on the bun, then sprinkles the dried spices over it one more time. he closes it up, wraps it in a bright yellow napkin, sets it on a wooden plate, and hands it to me.

wow. i need to rethink my whole philosophy about american comfort food abroad. the flavors are so different. sure, the components are the same, but the flavors are different. much like the hamburguesas of mexico. the bread is something of legend, the condiments carry a sweeter flavor, and the cheese is not our traditional cheddar, something wildly different. simply different, but wildly different all the same. and that little sprinkle of dried spices? wow. this sandwich is simply...awesome!

but that whole mcdonald's thing? oh, yeah - right in the face!

but i'm a man on a mission. i have to find the girls. they might be at the gelato shop from yesterday. they know i'm going back. it's on the same side of the street, so i decided to scope out the restaurants along the way. to no avail, of course. but i did happen upon that gelateria with the home made gelato. i order up three scoops for my last gelato of the trip: cocco, stracciatella, and torrone. cocco, of course, 'cause it's my favorite, stracciatella, because the girls had it the day before and were raving about it, and torrone, the hazelnut toffee-ish one made, to my knowledge, only here.

i explained the deliciousness factor in a previous blog. i don't think i described the grittiness of the gelato that scraped gently across my tongue as i licked it off the top of my cone. or the sweetness of it all. how creamy it was. like homemade ice cream on a warm and humid summer's day. the nuts are crunchy and hard, a contrast with the creaminess of the rest. the toffee blending with it and the frozen dairy for a sumptuous flavor. the chocolate, obviously drizzled in before freezing to a crisp. and the perfectly flavored flakes of coconut and cream for one of the best treats i ever had.

i walked with it. then stood in the shade, watching young children play in the fountain. a baby girl, maybe three, stripped down to her bright blue knickers as she got herself soaked. the two boys with arms soaked o their shoulders. the parents hollering about, calling their names, setting them back in the right spot. that's where i stood, tasting my delicious final bites of my last meal in italy.

oh, yeah, the girls...i buy some water in the store on which i was leaning, turn to walk to the boat stop, and here they are. sitting there in sight from where i stood, eating my gelato whle they were finishing their last meal, wrapping it up with a sip of their final cappuccino...

have you ever been scared?

no, i'm not talking about the someone-just-jumped-out-from-behind-you-and-startled-you scared. nor am i talking about the how-far-down-is-it-from-here?-oh,-heck,-i'll-jump-anyway scared. and i'm not talking about the did-that-car-almost-hit-me? scared. i'm talking the shit-your-pants,-"i-know-it-was-in-here-a-minute-ago,-what-the-hell-happened-to-my-wallet-with-all-my-money,-credit-cards,-and-passport ?scared.

yeah, that scared.

ain't fun, man. ain't fun at all.

i set off from the hotel a little early so i can blog. i pay my part (or what turned out to be 20% less than my part) of the hotel bill stroll for the internet cafe just down the way that we found the day before. as i'm walking, i enter the street to walk around the four or so people waiting for the bus. i have my sling bag around my neck and am dragging my suitcase. i hear something hit the ground. i stop, my water bottle is on the ground. i check the ground for anything else. nope, all's well. carry on.

i walk the rest of the distance to the internet cafe, about maybe less than a quarter mile. there is a little market set up, selling fresh produce, people stopping by on their bikes, others are having some cafe on the patio of a small coffee shop, chatting about this and that. it's a leisurely morning. i walk into the internet cafe, and the owner of the shop is occupied by the lady at the counter. the morning is nice, i'm not even sweating yet. the shop has little trinkets and stuff, and computer equipment. things like travel mice and connectors and that kind of thing.

i was there for about a half minute, then figure that i'll get my cash ready as i'm about to meet up with the girls in about an hour, and i need to get my writing done (and check my account balances and all that jazz). my wallet's not where i usually put it...

i look under the water bottle, under my journal. it's not there...

maybe, when i paid the hotel bill, i stuffed it in the wrong pocket. it's not there...

no, i never misplace things like this...let me triple check the other pocket, where i always put it. it's not there...

oh, shit.

ma'am, sorry to interrupt - can i please leave my bags here for a moment? i think i dropped my wallet.

not there, around the side, so it's out of the way.

please be there. please. it must've been under my suitcase when i turned around. it'll be there. it's only been moments. please be there. please. it has to be there. please.

in this fear, your foot doesn't hurt. it's not just that you'll lose the passport with your stamps in it, or the almost-$400 in euro you took out yesterday, or your credit cards, or your driver's license. you'll lose your freedom. what can you do? sure, you want to stay in italy, but how will you get around? where will you stay? no, your foot runs just fine. your breath even holds out until you run that almost-quarter mile back to the bus stop. as you come up, you see something in the shadow. something setting there on the ground. you don't get your hopes up. i mean, if you breathe that sigh of relief for a leaf on the ground, you're f'ed, man. don't waste that sigh of relief! you have to know first.

luckily, the sigh of relief gets exhaled. luckily, on this lazy morning on this little island, luckily, full of relaxed locals and busy tourists alike, luckily, your wallet is sitting on the pavement, just where it fell, out of sight, under your duffel bag that you were rolling along. luckily, you don't have to discover the adventure of calling your credit card and bank to tell them you lost the cards on this trip. you don't have to find the u.s. embassy to figure out how to get a new passport when you're supposed to be leaving in less than five hours to go to another country.

no, luckily, today, you called in some karmic wonder that you did years ago. maybe you had done something really nice and unwarranted for your sister. maybe you gave someone a couple of bucks when he or she needed it the most. maybe you were there for a friend, being that shoulder to cry on at the perfect time. maybe you shouldn't be so stupid and check your bag when something falls out of it in the future.

eh, either way. be grateful. smile...now you have a story to tell...you know, the day you shat yourself?

a sad day, to be certain

i knew it was coming...the end of our stay in italy, i mean. i just didn't want it to. not one bit. even now, typing in my hotel room in holland, i wish i had the light sweat of the humid air in italy, overhearing the musical cadence of someone's conversation, smelling the delicious foods of the trattorias as it fills the streets, tsting the sweetness of the coconut gelato i hold in my hand, and seeing the many people join me as i walk cobblestone streets, lined by homes and churches - buildings - built hundreds of years ago...

my family and some friends have heard me talk of italy, talk about moving there, talk about these wild, outlandish things, always involving italy. i've had a love for the country since i don't know when. and, frankly, i don't know why. they're all sick and tired of it, i know, but, i still love it so very much.

please don't misunderstand, the trip wasn't all roses. i mean, traveling with two women is no easy task (and much worse than than anything i might've experienced with my sisters or traveling with sam for my first euro trip. for much of the journey, i was off on my own, tired of being second-guessed and hearing the snipey comments that happen during any time of length you may spend with someone. but, even with those frustrations, i am in love with italy and did not want to leave.

there's a magic there that i haven't found anywhere else. pardon the cliche of this next comment, but i've found it to be exceptionally true, florence is the location of my renaissance, the place of clarity for me. i see its worldliness, the energy of the city, for me, is filled with the obvious history and art, sure, but also carries an indescribable beauty. florence is a definite place of introspection for me, rivaled by the sea (best in hawai'i, but i won't hate on it anywhere) and, somewhere closer to phoenix, jerome. i know me better in florence, and that is important to me.

venice is a page of a book coming alive. the stories are not myths, they are real. the beauty is all its own. there is no smell, as many people say. the canals are not dirty, as people may lead you to believe. the air is fresh, of the sea. the water murky, but with the murkiness of a lagoon. regardless, the architecture, the spirit of the city, everything it has to offer, is a magic all its own. this does not resonate with me like florence, but its beauty is one to behold.

i still feel as though i did tuesday night atop piazzale michelango. looking out over the city, i made a conscious decision to return to the room. i did not want to leave, but i do not regret leaving. i left with the complete intent of returning. i left wanting more.

with all of this being said, i am still very excited to see the other offerings of europe, the beauty of these other cultures, the tastes of their typical food. i can't wait to walk the streets in holland, in brussels, in france. the emotion i'm feeling is akin to that i felt when i would leave my parents to visit my grandparents - i don't want to leave one, but do want to see the other. i departed something i love, something with which i am partially familiar for something else i love, something uncertain and full of adventure.

my next trip to europe may not include italy, but i will be back. as certain as this day was sad...

a lazy day in italy

after conking out, i wake up to an empty room. the room key is sitting on a piece of paper that says, "gone to the beach, e & k." i hop up, check the time - 10:00. 10:00!?! oh, crap! i get my stuff together, then head to the bus stop. i walk down to that salty body of water that butts up against the other side of lido and start my hunt for the girls.

boy, howdy! there were girls galore! the ones i'm traveling with were knee deep in the water searching for shells, so i find out where their stuff is, put my flip flops and shirt on the mats, and head in. the water is cool, fresh, but oh, so, lovely.

now, this next part may be a little uncomfortable for some of you, because i'm going to talk about being on a beach in europe. there comes a time in every little boys life when he learns about two things: balls and titties. i not so much as get my feet in the water when kelli says, "look now!" i have no idea what the heck she's talking about, so i turn...my gaze falls upon a man in a blue speedo, legs pointing towards the sea. oh, man. this horrible, horrible sight still fills my memory. you can only imagine what was falling out of his tiny speedo...

that brings a whole new level to people watching. this place, a place of modesty, only accounts for said modesty everywhere but at the beach. i'm cool with this. it seems confusing, but, it's cool. as with anywhere you go where there is nudity or partial nudity, for some people you can't get enough, for others, a little is too much.

practically all of the ladies are wearing bikinis. only a couple were walking around topless. i was grateful for that in a couple of occasions, most definitely. but there were other times that i was not so grateful.

kelli was my partner in crime people-watching. erika went back to the hotel to get her psuedo-bathing suit (she didn't bring one, so she used her exercise clothes). we were chatting about the trip, watching everyone, listening to the conversations, laughing. what a great time.

after erika got back, we stayed in the water until we got cold, probably another hour. the girls laid out for a while, "drying off," more like enjoying the sun's rays. i went and sat in the shade. afterwards, we went for a bite to eat. we found this little shop that was really an gelateria, but served some food on its patio (so, that means that we didn't get bread with our lunch). we all got something different, kelli had risotto, erika had lasagna, and i had the tortellini.

as we were sitting there, erika said that this was one of her favorite days in italy. kelli made mention that "this is what vacation is supposed to be like." i enjoyed it, but not to that extreme. it was nice to have a lazy day, to spend time at the beach, but did not offer the sentiment of standing at the feet of the david or gazing out over either the city of florence or pisa or being guided down the canals of such an old and storied city such as venice. the relaxation was pretty fantastic, though.

after lunch, we had some gelato. the lady at the shop told us that it had been open since 1932 and that the gelato is handmade. oh. my. goodness. now, any gelato - here - is good gelato. i mean, i have never had a bad gelato. sam and i staked out a gelateria in florence that i visited while there earlier this week, vivole, which, until this gelato, was the best i had ever had. but this. mmm. scrumptious.

the girls decide to kick it on the patio for a little while longer, allowing the gimp to get in the shower and start getting ready for st. mark's square (just so you know: i'm the gimp). after i'm ready to rock, they start getting ready, so we decide to meet in front of the doge's palace at 5:30. i was going to try and sneak into st. mark's basilica before it closed, but, leaving at 4:40, didn't think i was going to make it (it closes at 5:00).

i still head over, but didn't even try to go in. i just walked the streets. yep, there i was, walking the streets of venice...how outrageous! i mean...i'm walking the streets of venice! you know...the streets...right there...the ones in venice? well, the moment wasn't lost on me, i'll tell you that much!

at 5:30 i'm waiting in front of the palace. at 5:40, i'm walking into the doors of the palace. unfortunately, the girls hadn't made it, so, i figgered that they would just meet me inside when they got there...i started walking around. the doge was a figurehead of the politics in venice. i don't quite understand it, but it seemed that business was carried on when there was a doge, an individual who served for life and was selected from the most influential families in venice, but had no real power. once a doge died, though, the whole city would shut down.

what an extravagant place! the rooms were lovely and ornate. that was cool. but nothing compared to the 14th century armory. wow. the swords, the maces, the battle axes, the pikes, the spears, the crossbows, the arrows, the armor, the chastity belt...yes, the chastity belt. that thing scared the sam hill out of me! i really, really, really don't want a piece of that!

i was very excited about this, and was thinking that sam would've got a kick out of it too. but, really, i knew that i was not nearly as geeked as some of the guys at work who play with these toys when they get the chance...amazing, though!

after being sent to and from the same room three times as they were closing and cordoning off everything, including the exits, i found my way to the exit, and there were the two lovely ladies. the boat over was taking an exceptionally long time, so they didn't make the 6:00 cut off to enter. we went looking for a couple of souvenirs we didn't pick up the night before, then to dinner.

i had a bruschetta that was sooo good! i also had a mixed salad and tartialle con carni (fettucini noodle-ish with a beef ragout), the girls shared buffalo mozzarella and a vegetable pizza (eggplant, zucchini, and yellow bell peppers, i think). we get some baked goods, walk around a little more, then head back to lido. we're going to celebrate our last night in italy with a limoncello...and erika had a bellini.

we walk to maleti's, a nice little bar, and get our drinks. the first one went down nicely, as it should, slowly. the second (this time the girls both had bellinis, but i stuck with the limoncello) was toast after toast after toast after toast until it was all gone.

all in all, not a bad day in venice, if i do say so myself...

on the way to venice...

we got up thursday morning and hustled to the bus stop. the bus seemed to take its time getting us to the train station, as we got there right as the announcement ran over the intercom that the train to venice was ready for departure. the girls start jogging while i limp my way down to our car. we pile in, get situated, and off we go.

for much of the trip, the girls are hollerin' at me, "shh! you'll draw attention to us," really to no avail. (that just gives me cause to do it longer and louder - 'ello, 'ello - but they haven't figured that out yet...) so, we're ready for our 2:30 trip to venice, and they need to practice. they're ringing their imaginary bells, listening to the music on the ipod, and i hear kelli breathing, "and-one-and-two-and-three-and-four-and-one-and..." she doesn't realize it, but i'm more embarrassed in that moment than i'll ever be walking around with red toenails! hahaha...everyone in the choir will be glad to know they practiced, though!

once we arrive in venice, i check the times for saturday, when we need to go to treviso airport, so we can plan our day accordingly. we buy our tickets to the airport and walk out. we're greeted with the grand canal. the beauty is astounding. again, nothing like any picture you've ever seen, any replica you may've happened upon. a charm all its own. i can't help but gaze across the water and then to myself, "wow. i'm in venice."

my folks came to italy after i made my trip two years ago. my dad and i were conversing about our travels, and we had a difference of opinion for florence. he hated it. i absolutely fell in love with it. their vacation was of italy, mine split time in germany as well, so they went more places than i did. he told me about how beautiful venice was, and told me that it was his second favorite city in the world, the first being paris. i get to judge his opinion on this trip, as i'll be visiting both!

we're staying on an out-lying island, where the venice film festival is held, in lido. we get our bus and boat passes, then make our way to the hotel. after a moment of confusion, we make it. lido is much quieter than the busy streets of venice, reminding me of sorento when i visited a couple of years ago. we grab a bite to eat then stroll up to see what the main drag has to offer, which includes gelato, of course, walking all the way to the beach. yes, the beach! the other side of the island butts up against the adriatic sea, i think. some salty body of water, that much i know...

at lunch, where we had the tastiest balsamic vinegar so far on the trip, we decide to go up in the bell tower, st. mark's basilica, and the doge palace. unfortunately, our walking around lido only allowed us to make the bell tower (which, in retrospect, was silly, because it was open until 9:00 and the doge's palace's ticket offices closed at 6:00, which we missed by three minutes).

what comes instead? c'mon! i'm travelling with women here - shopping. so we walk around checking the shops for the venetian glass and masks and goodies and such. we're about to find something to eat, when a gondolier stops us in front of a bridge.

again, back to my pops, he told me that the gondola rides are way expensive, but well worth the experience. he told me to just take the hit and do it.

our gondolier told us that they had three prices for three different tours: the grand tour, the good tour, and the crappy tour. 120€, 100€, and 80€. we tell him that we want to go for about an hour, and the girls had me decide. i gave them an out: "are you both good with 40€ a piece?" the answer was yes, so we went on the big'un.

when i get a chance to upload some pictures, i'll include some from this experience. kelli was nervous of falling in, but got to go first. then i followed. when i hopped down, the gondola rocked and kelli shrieked. she had the benefit of sitting next to me for the duration. little erika was the balance to the boat, you know, to try and distribute the weight? yeah, right!

so, we set off, head to the grand canal, and back the little canals of venice. we get a decent oral history by giovanni (that's probably not his name, but we can't remember it, so i named him giovanni - after a kid that sam and i met when we were in florence waiting in line at the uffizi, i hope he doesn't mind). "that casanova's house." "that's where marco polo lived." "oy! oy! blahblahblah!" (when we were rounding corners he'd holler his spiel.) "the city's not sinking, the water's rising." "the griffin flag is very important to us, signifying st. mark, our patron saint." he told us about their shirts - the original garb was the black or red and white striped shirts, but that they would wear a white button-up shirt over in the summer, black in the winter.

we took a good many pictures, then i just laid back. as this was not a romantic journey, we did not pay to have him sing. maybe some honey'll want to come visit with me in the future to get the full experience? hell, yes, she will!

after our ride, giovanni directed us towards a restaurant, rivetta. the food was really good, but our waiter was the best we've encountered, in my humble opinion. he was cracking jokes, having a great time.

back to my conversation with my dad...there is definitely something magical about venice, a place all its own. there's no other place in the world like this. still, though, the accessibility and intimacy continues to draw me to florence. there are many moments of introspection there that i haven't found anywhere else.

after dinner, we head back to lido. i go in search of an internet cafe (gotta keep y'all in the loop!) to no avail (sleepy town - closes down pretty early). so, i grab a beer and watch the sunset. the girls go to the hotel, then for a walk. i get back before they do, and cash out before they even get in the room...i felt sorry for them...almost...

i'm in venice, bitches!!!

i don't have much time to write (the hotel guys are letting me check my email), but i wanted to leave a note...we got to venice yesterday and...holy cow! i'm in venice! this is so outrageous! i can't believe it!

lots to share, but not much time in which to share it...i'm enjoying the moment because we're leaving tomorrow for amsterdam, so this is it for italy. we'll be able to spend some time in the morning, but, i'm afraid, tomorrow is my last day for good old fashioned gelato. (and we found an awesome spot today where they make it handmade!)

anyhow, just know i didn't forget about you all - all's well, leave some messages, i heart you!

i'ma give youa pisa my mind!

i woke up early this morning, and not just by my standards. i was the first to wake up in the room at 6:00 am! no, really...i did...i don't know what the hell is wrong with me...and then i read...for two hours...until the girls got up (who's lazy now?)...at 8:00 am. yeah, it really happened.

around 9:00 i head out to go to the train station. i bought our tickets to venice tomorrow and a round trip ticket toooooo...pisa! my foot was hurtin', but i was going to pisa come hell or high water. i didn't realize that it was at the ass-end of town, but, hey, i was going to pisa.

the girls stayed in florence, starting their day off with some laundry before (what else do women do?) shopping...and allegedly going to the uffizi. i don't know if they made it or not as i haven't seen them yet (it's rapidly approaching midnight). but i, on the other hand, went to pisa!

i make my way through the streets. my quick glance at the map outside the train station abruptly failed me, so i asked a dude in a hotel for a map. he was quite helpful. on my way, i stopped for a bite to eat (four-cheese gnocchi, prosciutto and melon, and a glass of wine), and then carried on. when i happened upon it, i was absolutely amazed! this thing is so much better than any picture that you may have seen. no, honest.

i always thought that it was just this tower, you know, a little tilted, standing by itself. no! that's not it at all! it's surrounded by the greenest grass that you'll ever see, with cathedrals and museums and all of these other outstanding structures all around it. all of it in the same hone of white.

after buying my ticket to climb the tower, i had two hours to kill. what else do you do? well, what else do you do with a bum foot? you go lay out in the grass and enjoy the beautiful day!!! i read some more...chilled a little...watched the kids kick around the mini-futbol...watched the gaggle of girls try to impress the boys...watched the lovers smooch on the lawn...watched the kids run on the endless field...watched the one dude - you know, the one dude - sleep through everything...it was awesome!

then my chance came, and i started up the stairs. they claimed it was "almost 300" steps to the top - but i wanted to be certain. my count was 294. they were close, but not exact. i need ot keep my count somewhat intact...

the view from above was breathtaking. i tried jumping up and down on the high end to even it out, but they yelled at me...something about ruining their tourist industry 'cause no one will want to come to the tower, yadda, yadda, yadda...

on the way back, i finished my book! (i'd tell you more about it, but the first rule of the book club is that you don't talk about book club...you can only guess what the second rule is...) i tried to take a short nap, but the air conditioner went out in the cab, so it was starting to get unbearably hot. i did have dreams of getting back to the hotel to take a quick nap before heading out for a bite to eat, maybe catching up with the girls...

once i got back to florence, i tried to find the bus that took me to the train station. i succeeded. there was a slight flaw in my plan...i knew where the stop was going to the station, but i didn't know where the stop was coming from the station...this quick jaunt back to the hostel ended up being an hour and a half tour of florence and its suburbs...i went to the industrial zone...i saw where the people live that can't afford to live in the hubbub of tourism and history. what more can you ask for? all that for just €1,20!

i noticed that there was heightened nervousness when i was near my stop. i had no clue where it was, but i kept second-guessing myself and thought that i should've got off the bus in about three different places...that wouldn't have been too big of a deal, i could've just hopped on the same bus going in the opposite direction, but rode it out - and i'm glad i did!

when i finally found my spot, i went and chatted up simona, the very pleasant and beautiful girl that greeted us when we first arrived monday evening. i purchased an internet card and busted out that very lengthy first blog of the day. in fact, time ran out, so i had to get a second one (which i'm currently utilizing).

while typing, i met a nice young lady who was here for school. she was but 21, here with a class, but about to travel to rome on her lonesome. we chatted earlier today, but she was on the computer tonight too, so i enjoyed listening to her story for a little while.

after i finished that first blog, i wanted to check out ponte vecchio in the evening. kelli's mom told me about a place down that way, and i wanted to see if i could find it. i started out around 8:00. the walk down this street is beautiful. the trees are mature, and the smell is intoxicating. i followed this wall for probably, oh, i don't know, two or three miles. i think it was guiding me back up to piazzale michelango (my map was a small one printed on something a little larger than a 3" x 5" card, not too helpful at all, actually), which i wasn't opposed to, but wanted to see the other part of town.

i finally made it down there around 10:00 pm. my timing is impeccable! many of the restaurants in the area were closing down, so i grabbed the first thing i could find: expensive, horrible pizza and a beer. i way overpaid. then, not being quick in the head, i did it again with some over-priced gelato. at least that was delicious...

it's now 12:30, and i'm finishing this up before shaving the ol' noggin again and taking a bath. (god bless that shower!) tomorrow's an early morning - but we're heading to venice! i'm so excited!

deep thoughts...

when i left you last, i was typing on a computer (much like this) after climbing the 463 steps to the top of il duomo, looking over the beauty of this town...after that, i went on a hunt for the best gelato i had tasted. i got lost, but that's when i happened upon the internet cafe and let you know what i we had been doing since leaving the states. after i left the internet cafe, i found that gelato place, then i decided to go up on piazzale michelango and catch the sunset.

a few minutes before the bells started ringing in the 9:00 hour, i reach the summit. basically, there's a parking lot that has a copper statue of the david standing in the middle of it. from the edge, you can see the city, ponte vecchio, the beautifully lit bridge over the arno, il duomo, the huge dome i climbed earlier in the day, and all of the same-colored roofs of the homes below.

of course, i take a million big-head shots of me in front of the david (you can't do it in the galleria accademia), and then just sit. the weather is perfect, a slight breeze washing over the small group of people that are there at dusk. my gaze wanders...the david...the city...the river...the people...the david...the people...the city...the river...you get the idea.

as the sun goes down, the lights come on, and the city is transformed before my very eyes. i have pictures in the waning moments of day and in the beginnings of night. then i start to become more attune to my surroundings. a class of students from germany, scoffing at their teacher and the, what i can only surmise as, guest speaker. a cute couple, trying to get the timer to work just right on the camera as someone ignorantly walks past at just that time. two young american girls, teaching the vast wonders of mormonism to a chinese woman who was, initially, practicing her english. a group of italians with a priest who had a beard longer than my goatee and his gray hair pulled back into a pony tail, joking with the tour members and laughing hysterically at his antics.

there were people representing nations of the world, all right there in the square. italians, chinese, japanese, americans, germans, french, english, indian, kenyan...the air was peppered with these songs of communication, laughter, children crying, stories being told, and evangelization. my mind wandered, racing from all of these thoughts, to being still, watching what was happening. all the while, i was comfortable, sitting there, atop this fine city, by far my favorite in the world.

i walked from the center of the piazzale to the corner, nearest to the river arno. the group of german students broke into two, one sitting on the ground, playing a guitar and singing american popular songs, a beatle song, and german drinking songs. the other was on the rail, smoking their cigarettes and drinking their booze.

i have this theory...i'm still buffing it out, but it basically goes like this: if you have a box, on one side you would have good, on the other, bad. right there in the middle, everything turns fuzzy - there's a fine line between good and bad. i choose to view this whole box, instead of judging what's universally good or bad, as simply what is. there are things that are good for me, bad for you, bad for you, good for me, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, that the whole box just exists. it is what it is.

come back with me to the piazzale...i don't want to leave. i really want to stay in that moment forever. it's as perfect as perfect can be. both nostalgic (hell, i was just here two years ago in another phase of my life) and producing fresh memories from this phase in my life. i decide to leave anyway, more because i didn't want to (it means that i'm going to want to come back) than anything else.

the bells start ringing again, bringing 10:00 with it. i walk down the steps heading back to the hostel. that's when i tap into this nirvana-like, zen-ish, kind of revelation...or something. i realize that as everything happens, it happens just right. whatever the joy or the pain, it happens the way it is supposed to. and those two things, joy and pain, seem to be the highs and lows of life.

there's really no secret to life. there's really nothing more than those two states in varying degrees. i firmly believe that if one is to embrace this, that life can be so much easier. break the expectation. go against the grain. do what you want to do. you can shape your life into whatever you want.

some sort of karmic interruption came down upon me like a lightening bolt. as i'm limping along, i step wrong on my bad foot, roll my ankle, and strain my big toe. luckily, i didn't fall! just then, my journey back to the hostel moves from about :40 to an hour and it's almost impossible to walk. shit. practice what you preach, right?

my state instantaneously hops from sheer bliss to utter pain. it hurt so bad to walk. now what am i going to do? why does this always happen?

just kidding...i didn't ask either of those questions. my mind was transferred from the reflection i just described to the pain in my foot (it really hurt...bad), but that revelation stuck with me. everything happened the way it was supposed to.

i think this calls into question the whole, "everything happens for a reason" line of thinking. i absolutely do not believe this. everything happens, sure, but there is not always a rhyme or reason for why it happens. therefore, if something happens, you cannot change it, merely accept it for what it is. it happened the way it was supposed to happen. you can't change the decision that you made. you can't hope and pray for a different outcome. it happened. the sooner you can embrace that it happened, the better off you will be.

this may sound counter-intuitive to my nature, i am an optimist, after all, but i disagree whole-heartedly! i can't change the things of the past, but i sure as hell have a say in what happens in the future! i believe that things like karma play a part in what happens (how this relates to everything happening for a reason is completely different tangent/discussion, and, yes, i can have my pie and eat it too - i have an opinion on that as well).

envisioning what i want to happen to me and my life. guiding the things i do in a particular direction. that's what i can do to change the future. will mishaps occur? certainly. will it go according to plan? absolutely not. but i have to be okay with however which way it goes.

even if it includes bathing in the smallest of showers, goshdarnit...