The Road Trip Part Three

The last stop on our road trip was Brussels, the Capital of Europe. It was a nightmare to just drive into the city. Once again we had issues with the GPS system, which Theresa kept calling the GPA, to my amusement. We were driving around the circular freeway that goes around the city when we lost the signal for the GPS. We chose a random exit, which turned out to be almost correct. Finding the hostel was not really the hard part; it was finding a place to park the car. Theresa was a driving champ, but I was worried that the stress of it all would leave a sour note on the end of our trip. It was the kind of situation where if we were related to each other, we would have probably gotten into a major yelling match. Luckily, we are old friends who know when to grit their teeth and keep driving, and when to pay 15 Euros per night to park the car in a garage. We were so hungry after the parking incident that we almost ate a Pizza Hut. When the waiters at Pizza Hut ignore your request for a table in the center of Brussels, you have reached a low point. We found an Indian place on the La Bourse. Meh.

The following day we set out to conquer the sightseeing hotspots of Brussels. We strolled through the Grote Markt, which had a fabulous blue Christmas tree and flashing lights on the side of the City Hall. Just like Theresa said it would be, we walked around a corner and found Manneken Pis, which is a statue of a little boy peeing. This is the biggest tourist attraction of Brussels. The day was cloudy and cold, and before long we were ready to give up the fight. Theresa and I were walking down a stepped brick lane when she mentioned that she wanted some tea. As soon as she said this, I noticed a little shop called “The Tea Room.” This charming little place had comfortable chairs and sweet individual teapots. I liked the teat that Theresa had, black tea with mango and rose petals that I bought 100 grams to take with me to Ireland.

That night we followed our Brussels map/guide to a cozy little bar serving all the best Belgian Trappist beers. I started with the famous Belgian Gueze, a beer with special bacteria from the Zenne River that Brussels is built over. It was very sour and try as I might, I didn’t like it. We switched over to Chimay and Kriek, and had a lovely evening talking about every subject under the sun. It was an understated night, but one of my favorite nights of the trip. The next day we went for a Liege Waffle at Belgaufra, a chain of waffle-makers that I heard about from Orangette. It was so delicious that one second into my first bite, I was thinking of buying a second one. After a short ride on a Ferris wheel and a bit of a snow flurry, I was on my way to the airport.

The Road Trip Part Two

Although I was happy to leave our hostel, I was feeling sick and getting worse as we drove to Bruges. At some point on the drive, my chest was so congested I thought that I would suffocate. We were silently on the drive, but I was secretly thinking that Theresa should drive me to the nearest hospital. When we arrived, Bruges was full of people! Theresa was completely shocked, as she had been there many many times with her family and usually there is no one in sight. It was an "open Sunday," where people could sightsee and shop for last minute Christmas gifts. If you relatives gave you Belgian chocolate or beer for Christmas, they probably bought it in Bruges on that day. I don't even remember getting to the hostel and plopping down on the bed, but a few hours later, we were braving the cold to get some dinner. An unexpected Flemish specialty, we ate baby-back ribs and french fries. The one upside of having a cold is the excuse to feed yourself until you almost burst. Feed a cold, right? Anyway, I had hacked a lung out onto the Bruggian streets, so I was feeling a lot better.

In the morning we woke up early to fit everything in Bruges into one day. Bruges is a small city with a few key sights, but we were so busy! We started with the Dali museum. I never cared for Dali before. I thought his elephant posters and melting clocks were a little too hippie, but his illustrations of Spanish folk tales won me over. Afterward, we went to the French Fry Museum, however this is a misnomer. I learned there that Americans call them french fries because they were offered to American soldiers by French-speaking Belgian soldiers during WWII. Theresa had a good laugh at me and my countrymen for that. We climbed the seemingly endless staircase up to the Belfry, where we had a sunny view almost out to the North Sea. The next stop was a brewery tour at Half Moon Brewery. It was a great tour with an even better beer at the end. We could barely fit it in, but we split a waffle and some Kriek at an extremely touristy place on the main town square. The waiter had no idea whether he should speak English or German to us. Dinner was at a classy little Michelin starred place where I indulged in the Belgian special, moules frites. Theresa had a delicious lemon sole, and we both went home happy campers. Bruges had won me over, and I didn't stand a chance. Before we left we had time for one more waffle at a Mozart-themed restaurant (?)

The Road Trip Part One

The next morning we peeled ourselves out of bed, frantically packed our bags and various GPS systems and hopped in the car to the Netherlands. Whenever the Netherlands were mentioned in my history lectures, I always wondered why a country at the top of Europe was called "Nether." I don't know if this is the correct reason for the appellation, but that is one flat country. It is the essence of lowlands. Besides the occasional windmill, there is nothing taller than me in that whole country. On the drive, Theresa and I listened to her old mixes, including one from her year in Santa Barbara. I had completely forgotten that old Sugarcult song that we all sang on repeat for a year. Ironically, that song is about not being someone's memory. Our GPS system didn't know the name of the street we were staying on in Amsterdam, so a combination of Google Directions, my sense of direction, and a stop at the gas station for map perusal, was how we got to our hostel. I should probably stop complaining about that place since it has been over a month since I was there, but this place was hos-hell. I now know what people mean by a Dutch staircase, and the cat there had a specific job to do. At least our 8-person room was occupied by only us for the entire week.

We went out to eat at a little place Theresa remembered from her first trip to Amsterdam. There we met a group of young people who worked across the street at Heineken. They had blonde curly hair and drank Heineken the whole night. We were in Holland now.

The next day we took the Free Walking Tour. I swear, I am the best advertisement for that company. I tell everyone to take the free walking tours. The Amsterdam one was great, with an appropriately kooky host. We saw the smallest house in Amsterdam, learned why the house lean forward and to the side, walked through a Beijinhof, saw a few coffeeshops and red lights, and ended with some Heinekens at a corner bar across from the Anne Frank House. At this point I felt a little tickle in my throat. I had no idea it would turn into the worst and longest lasting cold of my life. The next day we only had enough energy for a boat ride along the canals. We were both sick and cold, but it was warm inside the covered boats. Amsterdam is actually one of the most charming places I have ever been. The houses seemed alive and cheery, and no, I did not visit the coffeeshops. However, Theresa and I were walking home one night when we turned onto a most endearing street. It was dark and foggy, and the red and white bricks were glowing faintly in the light of the streetlamps. It immediately reminded me of Mary Poppins. I said this to Theresa and she started freaking out and saying, "Oh my God! I was thinking the same exact thing!" We were both so in love with this street that we walked down a few more times while we were in Amsterdam.

On our last day we both said we had to go to the Anne Frank House. I have no words to describe what it was like to go inside the Secret Annex and to read the heartbreaking quotes from her diary written on the walls. Just go. At some point in your life, just go. We both got copies of her diary to read that night. The next day, we left for Bruges.

Cologne

I stepped a little outside my comfort zone and tried Mitfahrgelegenheit to get to Cologne. Mitfahrgelegenheit is really just a long German word for RideShare. Me and two Turkish guys drove five hours across a snowy German landscape when they unceremoniously dropped me off at the East Cologne train station. My dear old friend Theresa Hagelüken was waiting for me, but it was more like shivering for me. It was bitterly cold. I had been nervous to see Theresa after six years since out junior year together at Bishop Diego High School, but right away it was like we were in a time warp. At her cosy orange and red apartment, we broke out the photo albums and laughed about my penchant for funny faces and her penchant for taking pictures of the class cutie, who shall remain nameless (Ryan!). I was already having a better time than I could have imagined.When I decompressed from my ride across Germany, we went into the old part of Cologne. It was breathtakingly gorgeous as we walked over the Rhine. The bridge has a bunch of locks locked onto it where couples have engraved their names so their love will last forever. Cologne must be a city full of soulmates. The Cologne Cathedral is pretty impressive; I can see why it is a UNESCO world heritage site. What made it all the more beautiful were the twinkling winter lights of the Weihnachtsmarkt, the Christmas markets I wrote about in my last post. We had glühwein and went for Italian food. I was happy.

The next day, we went out to meet her friend Anja at their favorite spot. The waiter was trying a bit too hard, but none of use minded when he went to buy us french fries. That night was a Monday, so we didn't get too crazy. Just the usual of singing old Backstreet Boys songs at the local karaoke joint.Tuesday is apparently a good night to go out in Cologne, especially when you are a teenager. It was so strange to be in a castle-themed club with my friend from high school as we watched teens screaming along to old Britney Spears songs. This trip was going to have a lot of music nostalgia.

Christmas in Germany

(Me reenacting Do-Re-Mi)

I kept thinking that I would update this blog with all the places I have traveled to since Munich, but I got a little swept away by Berlin and it just didn't happen. In any case, today seemed like the perfect day to post a little something. So to speed through the past two months, here are the highlights. Munich: cold snap, day trip to Neuschwanstein Castle, Hofbrauhaus with new friends Terry and David and Pretzel Girl. Salzburg: The Sound of Music Tour (really cheesy fun!), Mozart's House, Schnapps Tasting, and a monastery's beer hall.

Prague: Crazy night with Terry and David and Norwegian cougars, lots of cheap beer and delicious gulasch, beautiful walks through the old city and Prague Castle.

Berlin: seeing Tobi, four-week German course, Fernsehturm. Hamburg: Pheonix Concert with Terry and David, fireworks, Bum Bum. Whoo, that was exhausting.

Now I want to write about the magic of Christmas in Germany. I was telling my roommate Kelo yesterday that Germany has the Christmas traditions that I always dreamed about. Christmas in Santa Barbara is usually pleasant and balmy, but when you want to wear cozy christmas sweaters and survive on hot chocolate, 65 degree weather can be a bummer.

It's 1 degree (celsius) today.

I woke up a bit late and have since been camped out by the heater in my bright yellow kitchen with a big mug of Earl Grey and chocolate dipped gingerbread cookies. They are called "Spekulatius" in German, which is a silly word, imho.

Yesterday, Kela and I took little Jonas to the Weihnachtsmarkt at the Kulturbrauerie. It's a small Christmas market inside the historical brewery of out neighborhood, Prenzlauerberg. Weihnachtsmarkts are probably my favorite thing about Germany so far. My Tandem partner took me to the Weihnachtsmarkt at the Gendarmenmarkt a few weeks ago. We speak for an hour in German, then an hour in English, but this time we were more concerned with eating bratwurst and drinking Glühwein. Friederike introduced me to the wonders of Feuerzangenbowle, basically a giant pot of mulled wine with a trough of sugar hanging above it. The sugar has rum poured over the top, and then it is lit on fire! And to top it all off, they have a bottle of rum to add a pinch more alcohol to each glass of carmelized rum-wine. Rike is having a Feuerzangenbowle party in Saturday, and I can't wait to have my own glass of the stuff. Other than highly flammable drinks, the Weihnachtsmarkt has lots of sweets and presents like wooden ornaments and knit caps. It's so cold you can see you breath, and the only solution is more Glühwein. I love Germany.

In other news, in two days I am setting out for more travel. This time I want to take a ton of pictures and keep this blog alive. First stop is Cologne to see a friend I haven't seen for 6 years!

Munich

Englischer Garten

I’m finally in Germany! I guess I am actually in Bavaria, which is what most Germans would say. Munich seems pretty quiet since it the weather has turned cold and Oktoberfest ended over a week ago. I thought about going to have the Oktoberfest experience, but I am no fan of crowds. I went on a free walking tour and walked around the Englischer Garten. As cold as it was, I enjoyed walking across the river, watching the surfers in the Endless Wave. In this big field, there were three guys throwing a Frisbee around with a border collie running between them. It made me miss Molly more than ever. She really was the best dog.

I could feel Fall coming around the corner in Interlaken, but the cold really hit when I got into Munich. I was really afraid of it for some reason, like it would get cold and I would just have to go home because I couldn’t handle it. Rocco was always telling me that I was overreacting, and I think he is right. It’s snowing on the grey streets of Munich right now, but I am safely inside a coffee shop with a hot cup of tea. Earlier today I went to yet another bookstore to look for a copy of “The Trouble with Physics” by Lee Smolin. Bill Bryson’s book got me on a science kick. I guess I always felt like history was my thing and I should not even give science a second thought. What I never realized something like physics is not just about solving equations but more like investigating the history of the universe. Perhaps I am only interested in the historical side of science, but I enjoy ornithology as well.

They did not have a copy of the book, but they were kind enough to order it for tomorrow. I spent a few hours wandering around Munich, specifically the Viktualien Markt. The Viktualien Markt had stands with every kind of fruit, vegetable, cheese, sausage, or pastry that you could ever desire. If I lived in Munich I think I would go there everyday.

Interlaken, Switzerland

I had never heard of Interlaken, Switzerland before this trip, but everyone I met seemed to be in love with this place. It became an inside joke with Francesca that Interlaken was the best place in all of Europe. It was raining when I arrived and I wrestled with my luggage across the park in the center of town. It was nice to have an excuse to stay in and watch The Office. The next day I took a train to Lauterbrünnen and then a cable car to Mürren. I walked around Mürren, ate some potatoes covered in melted Swiss cheese, and then hiked down to Gimmelwald. There’s a quote that says “If Heaven isn't what it's cracked up to be, send me back to Gimmelwald.” In Gimmelwald I mostly walked around taking pictures of flowers and garden gnomes. I love garden gnomes. There was a path covered in fallen leaves that led down the mountain. I followed a Swiss family on the hike, stopping occasionally to take pictures of the beautiful Swiss countryside. I think the pictures of my hike say more than anything I could write, so here they are:

Annecy, France

Arguably the best aspect of my grand tour of Europe is that I have so friends to impose myself on over here. Instead of staying in hostels, I have the first-hand insider experience of living with families and students in every country I have visited thus far. Marta invited me to Mallorca, and then took me with her family and friends on little trips all over the island. Rocco invited me to his grandparent’s house in Tuscany for a week, and I am still holding out to visit his parent’s apartment in Venice. Francesca invited me to stay with her in Geneva, and on her day off she took me to Annecy, a Savoyard town in France just outside of Geneva. Annecy, “the Venice of France” has little canals winding their way from the lake through the vieille ville. The isn’t much to do in Annecy but take pictures of the colorful house and eat a big meal of French-Savoyard food. Relying on the luck of the Irish, I ordered something off the menu. I think it was beef spare ribs? The potato tartiflette was delicious. We got a bit lost on our walk around the city, but took this great little secret path through Annecy backyards. The secret passage reminded me of the hills of Berkeley behind CZ. I used to walk up there and take any strange staircase just to see where it led. We both nodded off on the way home, but it was a nice sendoff before I traverse further into the Alpine landscapes of Switzerland. Tomorrow I am finally going to Interlaken, rain forecast be damned!

Geneva

Switzerland. Geneva is an international city of students and banks, but it also can feel very Swiss. For example, on my first day, Francesca and I went for a walk along Lake Geneva, known to the French as Lac Leman. The water was so clear that even in the middle of the bridge you could see the kelp growing up from the bottom. There were a lot of cute ducks and swans. The main tourist site in Geneva is the Jet d’Eau, a 140m fountain of water shooting up from the Lake.

Francesca and I made a lot of jokes about the coolness of the Jet d’Eau, and the general coolness of the Swiss. On the Paquis, we ran into her friends Alex and Stefano. Stefano invited us to have fondue with him and two older strangers who I later figured out were his parents. I love Italian parents, the moms are so sweet and try to practice their English, and the dads always want to know where you are from and give you advice about what to see in Europe (Italy, I guess.)

On Monday I walked around Geneva, marveled at the beautiful shops that I can’t even afford to go into, and ate some delicious chicken at Chez Ma Cousine. I got lost and was late to meet Fra in front of her university, but we still made it to a lecture on war tribunals (in French, je suis désolé). Afterward we went to a wine bar with her friends from the program and I talked to her Austrian friend Suzanne who invited me to stay with her in Graz in November. Tuesday I went to the Red Cross Museum only to find it was closed. I also saw the United Nations building. Francesca and I went to Carouge, a small town that was incorporated into Geneva. We had tea and talked about science and feminism and Iran.

La Fra

Paris - The Later Years

I wasn’t exactly in the mood to go to a cemetery, and I am not a fan of the Doors, but I still ended up in Pere Lachaise Cemetery on Thursday morning. It was cloudy and cool, and actually the perfect weather for French-cemetery wanderings. I snuck into a tour group of German teenagers, but when I realized they were a school, I felt like too much of a weirdo to follow them on their tour-de-dead people. At the newsstand outside I bought a copy of Pariscope, the events guide of the city. There was an exhibition of self-protraits by Takashi Murakami at an art gallery in the Marais district. Murakami is a strange guy, and some of his art is not appropriate for this blog, but here is some of his work with his main characters Kaikai and Kiki.

There was also a display of his cartoons, which were extremely colorful with and inordinate amount of poop references. After the exhibit I wandered around and found a French/English bookstore called I Love My Blender. If only I could read all day, but someone has to do the sightseeing.

On Friday I went on the New Europe free walking tour of the city. It was a little repetitive after the Fat Tire Bike Tour, but the tour guide was silly. If there is one quality I admire it is the ability to get silly. What is life without absurdity? I also met two girls who went to UCLA and graduated last spring, which was a nice break from Team Australia. That night I went to a party hosted by some Colombian students with the tour guide from my bike tour. It was strange, but I ate some delicious food and talked about genocide and revolution (what else does one do at a Colombian house party?).

Saturday I decided to take one last walking tour of Paris, the Montmartre tour. Saw the Moulin Rouge, Van Gogh’s home, the restaurant where Picasso traded paintings for food, the last vineyard within the city of Paris, and again Sacre Coeur. Nice bookends, however there was possibly the most annoying Australian man I have ever met. Everything he said (which was a lot) was either about the sex museum or dog poop. Even after the tour when me and the tour guide (the same one of former silliness) and some other young travelers went for drinks, we all complained about his off-color commentary. Strangest thing I have observed so far: he was married! I couldn’t even stand a two hour walking tour with this guy! Well, almost. The tour came with a free glass of wine at the end, which turned into three glasses and some snacks provided by the old bar manager whom we suspect to be a former madame. That night was Nuit Blanche, so the group of us went to a park to see some light shows and eat cotton candy. It was me, two Aussies, one girl from Davis, and the Maltese tour guide. Plus, one guy who claimed to be from Paris, but had a stronger American accent than me. I finally ate some kebab, felt sick, and went to bed.

Paris

The best way to describe my time in Paris is that I was planning to stay three days and ended up staying over a week. I arrived at the hostel, dropped off my bags, and immediately went out to explore the City of Lights. The weather was beautiful, just as Rocco had promised when he told me about Paris in the fall. I cut through the throngs of tourists at the base of Sacre Coeur to have a little picnic on the steps. I sat near a teenage French couple who were playing 90s songs on an acoustic guitar.

The next day I woke up very early because I had the naïve idea to spend the whole day in the Louvre Museum. I discovered after fours hours of crusing the ancient art, Italian and Spanish paintings (site of La Jaconda), and French royal portraiture, I could stomach no more. I was exhausted, so I hopped over the bridge to the Left Bank for lunch and a trip to Pierre Herme. Pierre Herme is a pastry –making legend, but I went for the colorful Parisian macarons. The award for strangest/best combination went to the Olive Oil and Vanilla macaron.

I ate them in the park in front of the Eiffel Tower. Before that I made a trip to the Shakespeare and Co bookstore to browse the many titles and get a copy of Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything.

Wednesday was the day I went to the Centre George Pompidou, Paris’s Museum of Modern Art. My favorite museum thus far, it was full of Picasso, Matisse, Pollock, Rothko, Duchamp (shout-out to ReadyMade!) and Otto Dix, who painted an amazing portrait of journalist Slyvia von Harden. I left for lunch at an Indian place that Anna K told me about in her list of “can’t miss” Paris. Afterward, all that was left to do was spend the afternoon reading my book in the Jardin des Plantes.

That night I went on the Fat Tire bike tour. Tons of fun, but a story for another day.

Grenoble Part Deux

So, on Thursday night we went over to Ben’s host apartment. He lives with a family, but on the second floor with the son, Madhi. At first, I was calling him Monty, but I may have been confused because of the book I was reading. Hana wants to only speak in French as of October 1^st, so I encouraged her to only speak French with Madhi. We told him wer were going to the Chartreuse distillery the next day. We kept saying “SHAAR-TROOSE” to him and after about ten times he finally said, “ah, Chartreuse!” with the requisite French accent. Story of my life.

The next day Hana and I went along on the group excursion to the Chartreuse distillery in a French Alpine town whose name has escaped me. Before the express bus took off, we found a cute little restaurant offering a “petit dejeuner.” The owners were sweet ad patient with us during our broken attempts to order in French (I took all my cues from Hana). I tried a tartine, which turned out to be an open-faced sandwich, while Hana had the ubiquitous Croque Monsieur. But the real show was the crêpewe ordered for dessert. People in France eat dessert at lunch too! It was called the Mont Blanc and it was crêpe with a scoop of vanilla glacé (ice cream), chocolate sauce, and the biggest pile of whipped cream I have ever seen (or eaten).

I thoroughly enjoyed the tour of the Charteuse distillery, even if it was completely in French. It had a little movie that condensed all of France’s history into about ten minutes with many mentions of chartreuse. It was great! At the end, we even got free samples, but I could not finish mine. After returning to Grenoble, Hana and I spent the afternoon flipping through French cookbooks at a department store and I ate some macarons from a sweet shop. We met Ben at the tram and went to a Belgian bar for happy hour. Two beers and some spicy peanuts later, I was speaking French like a pro. We ate more tartine (I ordered the Tartine al Normande, in honor of my Normandin roots) and we talked to French guy who had studied abroad in Kentucky of all places. We went to the generic Middle-Eastern hookah bar after for some tropical-mint hookah and jasmin tea. On the walk home, Ben climbed up the wall of the Natural History Museum and posed in a window frame. All in all, a very good night.

The last night, it was pouring rain outside, so we stayed in and made chicken soup. Hana was my sous chef (very French) and the soup turned out delicieux. All that was left to do was watch a chick-flick with Matthew McConaughey and eat the rest of the dark chocolate.

Grenoble, Rhone-Alpes

One of the nights we went out, Hana asked me what was my favorite place of this epic trip. It took some deliberation because I have enjoyed so many moments of the long journey, but at that moment, my favorite was actually my current location, Grenoble. I arrived in Grenoble after a full day of train travel. The long train rides are helping me achieve my goal of supplementary reading. If I’m no longer a student, I have the time to read books completely for pleasure, instead of scanning my massive volume of Thucydides. Hana met me at the station, arriving only seconds after me. I settled in at her apartment near the Parc Paul Mistral, and soon after went into town to have raspberry-flavored beer with her roommates and other friends from the study-abroad program. The next morning I set out on my own for the Musee de Histoire naturelle. The Museum was closed for sieste, so I walked a bit around the rose

garden. Roses always make me think of my mom, my granny, and my aunt Moni. I looked for a rose that best reminded me of them. I found this: Le Dame de Coeur, which I believe means Lady of the Heart.

The Natural History Museum was fascinating; I know I found it more enjoyable than the young French boys constantly pressing the buttons that light up the display and play the birdcalls. I left for a café crème down the street at a chic modern bar with a handsome bartender. A girl at the counter laughed at me when I left a tip. If being generous is a stereotype of the American traveler, I don’t mind. Hana met me at the Maison de Tourisme, and we took the bubble funicular up to the Bastille de Grenoble. It has some great views, but it was hazy that day.

We went into a strange modern art exhibit which was equal parts confusing and scary. The next day we were determined to eat fondue. Hana’s program director had recommended a place on the Rive Droit, La Confesse. It had a Halloween theme, but delicious fondue. Hana and I ate and drank ourselves into comas, while Hana’s friend Ben snuck a piece or two when the waitress wasn’t looking.

Return to Spain

The next adventure turned out to be a RyanAir flight to Alicante to visit my good friend Nikki. Being the over-planner that I am, I was nervous about taking a Ryanair flight. I had heard from my friend Gordon a few years ago about how confusing and unreliable their flights were. However, my fears were abated when Rocco told me that these days RyanAir is the only airline in Europe where the passengers don’t have to worry about the airline going bankrupt when they are trying to get through security. Rocco was worried about getting some school-related bureaucratic paperwork filled out, but he still took the time to take me to the bus station. I was sad to leave Rocco, but excited to see Nikki, whom I had barely talked to in over a month. RyanAir had a great inflight magazine with a feature on Berlin. It made me excited to go there later in this trip. I have been kind of anxious to get to the Swiss-Austrian-German part of the trip. Especially when I get to practice my German again and do some hiking in the Alps. It might be a cliché, but I want to go to the Tirol region of Austria and give yodeling a try. I had plenty of time to daydream about later adventures because the weather in Altea was thunder and lightning rainstorms for the entire week. This picture is a little hazy, but I took it before the rain started one day. Most of the week I just rested all day and then went out to dinner with Nikki. 

Tuscany

A lack of internet and a monster cold have prevented me from blogging for almost two weeks. I hope I never leave my readers (few) hanging for so long again. When I arrived in Milan, Rocco was waiting for me in the train station in exactly the kind of outfit a classy Milanese man on a hot humid day would wear: khakis, boat shoes, pink button-down.  

I had not realized how much I missed my Italian friend until I saw him and he immediately took all my bags to carry. His apartment is very chic, with huge windows that open completely to fresh air. I had a simple dinner with his mom, but I think the ricotta with olive oil is actually the best thing I have eaten in Italy so far. The olive oil comes from his grandparent’s house in Lucignano, Tuscany, which is where we headed the next day.

Rocco, Francesca, and I spent a week in Lucignano, mostly touring small Tuscan cities and eating pecorino. The first day we stopped in Pienza to have the first round of pecorino and admire the narcissism of Pio Secondo, Pope Pius II.  After lunch we drove to the Petriolo hot springs, which we would never have found without Fra’s brilliance at reading Italian road maps.

 The hot springs were too hot! We left for a dinner (wine, pasta, steak, dessert, coffee, the works) at an agritourismo called Santa Maria. It was a full moon, so we headed back to the hot springs at midnight to join the German hippie van at their bonfire.

The next day was spent in Siena. I was in a bad mood most of the day until we had some gelato. Fra said I ordered in Italian “perfectly, no mistake.” :) The cathedral was impressive, especially the tile floor mosaics. Unfortunately, none of my pictures turned out very well. On Sunday we went to Arezzo, where they happened to be hosting their yearly medieval festival. 

Every neighborhood has their own flags and colors and team of horse-riders and knights (?) It was confusing but fun; particularly when the rivalries became so heated that everyone was yelling “cheaters!” in Italian and making various hand gestures. We picked up a kilo of gelato from this amazing gelateria called Violetta to bring to La Lite for dinner. The next day my monster cold kicked in and I spent the day indoors at La Lite, napping and dreaming about missing trains. To make a long story short and skip over the Twilight Zone episode that was my first attempt at WWOOFing, I am back in Milan recovering by watching tv on Rocco’s couch. On Sunday I head out for the next adventure (TBD). Here is a picture of the lands outside Arezzo.

Le France

I spent one day in Aix-en-Pronvence, ate Pizza Capri per Noah’s suggestion, but it was so similar to Montpellier in some ways that I felt the traveler’s itch to move on. I did take the time to buy more presents for my family, at this street-side soap stand. 

I also went on a book buying spree at Book in Bar, because I think I will read a lot in Italy. 

When I couldn’t decide on one book, I bought three. The first is The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz, which many people recommended to me in Berkeley. In the morning I hopped on the bus to Marseille with a bunch of lost American teenagers (I helped, like I have any clue).

So the first thing that happened to me in Nice was that I got conned by a guy at the tram platform. He did the whole “you speak English?” and then charged me 50 cents for showing me how to use the ticket machine. 

The same ticket machine I have successfully used several times a day since I came to France. 50 euro cents is not bad, but I hate getting conned out of anything. My mood changed when I got to the hostel, Villa St.-Exupery (like The Little Prince).  I immediately started chatting with my dormmates (Aussies and a cute British couple), running through all the traditional hostel questions (where ya from, where ya goin’).  The next morning I tagged along with Eddie and Mike (other hostel-dwellers) to Villefranche-sur-mer.  We got a bit lost, but eventually found: the beach. 

Why had I not been here all along? The beach in the south of France is exactly like a beach in Spain or Italy: Mediterranean blue waters and hot, hot sand. The reason why the south of France is so beautiful is really because of the houses on the Riviera.  I now understand why Santa Barbara is called the “Riviera of the West”.  The next morning, I did not want to leave, but I had Milan and Rocco waiting.

Nimes

Today I hopped on a train to the nearby city of Nimes. It has the best-preserved Colosseum in the ancient Roman world. I took the audiotour, but honestly it was full of over-simplifications about Roman life. One of the curses of studying history is the inability to enjoy guided tours geared for entertainment value. C’est la vie. Le sigh. Even the Maison Carré hosted a 3-D movie about the “Heroes of Nimes.” Watching a 3-D movie inside Roman ruins is an extremely bizarre experience for me.  The best part of Nimes was definitely the Jardin de la Fontaine, which contains the ruins of a Temple of Diane, as well as a series of trails and roads that wind their way up to the Tour Magne, an ancient watchtower with a terrific panorama of the city, and possibly the most terrifying staircase in the history of man. To reach the viewpoint, you must climb many narrow steps that wind their way around a cylinder in the middle of the tower. Only a rickety railing keeps you from falling to your death onto the Roman stones. The view was worth it. The walk back through the garden as the sun was sinking was particularly wonderful. I found a small meadow with bizarre blue wood chips. I reminded me of something out of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. 

Montpellier-Part Deux

I had an even better second day in Montpellier. I sold a book in the basement of a French paper supply store, and then spent the money on a nice, leisurely breakfast (double espresso included.) Florence had suggested a street with boutiques and specialty stores for shopping in Montpellier. If I had brought an extra suitcase, it would be full of things from Montpellier. Especially since at the moment, everything is lavender-scented. I met a quirky girl from England who worked in a cute shop where I wanted to buy everything. 

We talked for an hour about couchsurfing, wwoofing, and how after one vacation, she ended up living in France for the last five years! She gave me good advice about London, where she grew up. I left the shop and was right in front of the church of Saint Roch, who was the son of the noble governor of Montpellier. 

I missed the festival of Saint Roch the weekend before, where they have a reenactment in the streets. I was the only one in the church, so I had a peaceful moment of prayer for my family. Saint Roch is a comforting image, with his little dog offering him food at his feet.

 I spent many hours that afternoon in the Musee Fabre. It holds France’s largest art collection outside Paris. My favorite pieces were “Albayde” by Alexandre Cabanel

 (not my photo)

and another work by Paul Signac that I can’t remember the name of. It was a scene of a country road lined by trees in the style of pointillism. I think my dad would really like it, but I can’t find a picture to post here. Afterward, I spent a few hours on a bench in a church garden reading The World According to Garp by John Irving. The light was so beautiful as the sun was setting that I didn’t want to leave. 

Montpellier

I had one more day in Barcelona before I went on le France. I stayed at the Centric Point Hostel, which definitely had all the services of the best of hostels, but it made me lonely after staying with Marta and Nora.  It was harder than I thought to interact with other travelers, but I was only there for less than one day. I spent all morning in a fabulous bookstore called La Central.

 It reminded me of Analog. I picked up a copy of The World According to Garp, which kept me entertained on the train ride to Montpellier that afternoon.

Montpellier is charming in a way that reminds me of Disneyland. 

I have never gotten lost as many times as I have in this city, and I have been here one day. My host is Florence, a freelance journalist who lives on a street that is very cute and very French. On my way out this morning, I stopped at a boulangerie for a croissant. When I said "un croissant" she thought I said "deux" so I ended up with two croissants, which is surprisingly filling. I spent the morning in the city center looking for this English bookstore. I scanned a few guidebooks on Montpellier to find out what there is to see here. So, I went to a small museum inside an old mansion where I was the only person in the whole place. The girl at the front desk even had to turn on some of the lights for me! They had a great collection of antique maps, which I loved. Then, I spent the afternoon outside the city a free zoo and an indoor rainforest. 

This man donated money to build a zoo under the condition that it be free to the public. The zoo was shady and cool, but the animals were mostly sleeping. Never go to a zoo between noon and three o’clock. It’s naptime. But, the ostriches really liked having their photo taken. 

I wish I could say the same for the rhinos. 

The rainforest was amazing, all these colorful frogs and bird and scary snakes and fish. 

and one badass iguana.